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yoditorian · 3 years

Text

lacuna- part 4

din/reader

i put our favourite idiots through the absolute wringer in this one and i refuse to apologise. it’s nECESSARY i swear.

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.4k

warnings: swears, graphic violence and injury, some naughty thoughts from our favourite buckethead so for that reason 18+ no babies thanks

The distant, rhythmic clanging echoes off of the stone staircase as he descends into the tunnels.

They’re empty, devoid of the usual flurrying activity, save for the guards that stand tall either side of the entryway. He doesn’t ask where everyone is, he doesn’t need to, the noise is enough to know where he’s going. Winding tunnel after winding tunnel, Din comes to a sharp stop after rounding a corner.

Armoured bodies spill out of the entrance to the forge, kids in and out of helmets clamouring to watch the action in the gaps between their buirs’ legs. He remembers being that small, trying desperately to see what was going on during gatherings. But he’d never seen anything quite like this.

Din shoulders his way through the crowd, watching out for the little ones under his feet, towards where Paz stands a head above everybody else. A pale, willowy man sits hunched over on his knees in the centre of the forge beside a set of armour carefully laid out on a bench. Is he a thief? The Armourer stands tall above him, ceremonial furs wrapped around her shoulders in place of the shorter, more practical ones. There’s so much sound, so many angry bodies packed into the small space, he can’t decipher exactly what it is they’re all doing there.

“What is this?” He nudges Paz, unable to take his eyes off of the man on the ground.

“He has dishonoured the creed.”

Din offers nothing in return, hoping his confused silence is mistaken for acceptance. A thousand possibilities run through his mind at breakneck speed. There are so many rules, so many afterthoughts and double meanings, he knows the newly-sworn kids struggle to remember everything from time to time. But this is a grown man, an adult who sits so shamefully in the centre of their most sacred setting. Did he kill a vod? Did he intentionally harm the ade? Did he question the Armourer? Paz, unsurprisingly, senses the question that hangs in the air between them.

“He removed his helmet, vod.”

No.

But how would- how would anybody know? How would something like that ever get back to the covert? Din doesn’t ask. He only nods, and returns his gaze to the man in the circle, while he silently prays to every deity he can think of.

The crowd around him gets louder, hurling insults and clanging their arms together in anger. Din understands the gravity of what this man has done, what he has done, but there has to be a reason. Surely, there’s an explanation. A loophole, somewhere. Their secrecy is their survival and their survival is their strength, but at what cost? The cost of your touch, of you? The cost of knowing and being known so intimately isn’t something he’d known he’d be so unwilling to pay back when he swore the creed. Din Djarin would be a lesser man had he not shed his helmet and armour for you, he is as sure of that as his creed. The creed he has broken, more than once. What would become of him, if anybody here found out?

The Armourer moves, worn metal of her tools colliding like a thunderclap, and the covert falls silent.

“Cork Gyll, you have been charged with the gravest of crimes against the creed: the removal of your helmet.”

Din can’t help but flinch as Cork does when the crowd roars again, anger and betrayal cracking in the air. He doesn’t know Cork, but his spiraling thoughts are way ahead of the game. Filling his mind with images of himself in Cork’s place, stripped of his armour and everything he knows himself to be. The taunting of his covert, of his family, echoing in his ears as though it’s meant for him. Din feels sick.

Memories of every time he’s shed his helmet for you. Every time he’s pressed his lips to yours, to every inch of you he could find purchase on. Is that why it always felt so good? An almost religious experience, the permission you give him to touch you is one he holds in the highest regard. Nothing comes close. But is that why? The thrill of breaking the code he’s lived by for a lifetime? No, he knows that’s not it. He knows it’s you that makes him feel that way, more than any rule breaking. He hates the warmth that spreads through him at the phantom taste of you on his tongue.

“Do you deny?” The Armourer speaks again, and the noise ceases.

“No, Alor.” Cork does not raise his eyes from the dust in front of him.

Anger replaces Din’s fear. At himself, at his creed, at the galaxy for being so cruel as to hold you just out of reach and deny him the only real, tangible connection he’s had since he was taken in by these people. He craves you, and everything you are, but you’re not allowed. Part of him feels like a petulant child, one of the ade denied a sweet before dinnertime. How could he be so stupid? So reckless? He should be caught. He should be exiled. He deserves it, he deserves nothing but loneliness.

“Is there reason that you should not be stripped of your armour and exiled?”

“No, Alor.”

“You will be Dar’manda. This is the way.”

“This is the way.” The words echo in chorus around the forge, as they always do. It doesn’t escape Din’s notice that Cork remains silent in the centre, head hanging low.

The clanging from before begins again, in unison this time. The younger warriors follow the elders’ lead, rhythmically hitting their vambraces together until the sound reverberates through the ground. It’s loud enough that nobody notices that Din’s own wrists barely make contact. The Armourer lifts the tray of shed armour over the forge in front of Cork, the sparks of the flames reflect harshly in the gold of her helmet. The condemned man still does not raise his eyes from the dirt.

Paz and another heavy infantry soldier step out of the crowd to haul Cork to his feet, and people start to dissipate. The show’s over, now all that remains is to serve his sentence. A life in exile. Dar’manda. Din doesn’t stick around long enough to find out what they do with him next.

He goes straight to his room, unaware of the path he treads. He can’t remember in all his time as a Mando seeing somebody actually get exiled, actually be stripped of the creed and sent away. He was half sure it was just a story told to get the ade to take the creed seriously. The guilt only digs it’s cold claws into his heart once he’s alone.

Door secure, Din all but rips the helmet off of his head. Breathe, in and out. Just like you taught him. Oh, you. Your face swimming in his memory only makes his guilt grip tighter, twisting itself in his guts until he can’t remember what he feels like without it. You’re a traitor, Djarin. He can’t tell if the grotesque voice in his head is talking about the creed or the way he’s treated you. He’s not sure it matters. Because even after all this, after everything he’s just seen, he thinks about where you might be. Whatever you’re up to, he only hopes you’re safe.

“Oh, fuck.”

Shara’s too far into the armoury to hear you call out when the guards descend.

Only a handful of them, faces all concealed by crude looking helmets, but they waste no time in splitting up to take you on. Three of them against you, they’re not the best odds you’ve ever faced. Then again, they’re definitely not the worst. You take a moment, let them try to predict your first move, until one of them gets impatient. He swings for your legs with the long barrel of his blaster, which you evade with so much ease you’re almost embarrassed for the guy. It’s less of a fight and more of a standoff. You’re cornered at the end of this dark hallway, nowhere to go. The sounds of Shara struggling against her own adversaries echo off the metal walls, and you strike.

You hit the middle guard square in the chest, splintering the weak armour, and you take the momentary panic from the others to make a break for it over his body. You don’t get far. Shara’s pained cry from the armoury stills your heart in your chest at the same moment that a stun bolt digs in between your shoulders, voltage way too high for something as delicate as human flesh. You’re out before you even hit the floor.

Your legs aren’t working like they should, muscles still jerking as the electricity works its way out of your system. A pair of guards unshackle you from the post and you hit the floor before they can catch you. Of all the ways they’ve hurt you, it’s the boss’s cackle at your weakness that makes you cringe. You’d held out for so long, stayed quiet for what feels like days, until they pulled out whatever it was that turned your blood to lightning. You’re dragged up out of the dust and back down the narrow hallway to the cell. It’s too dark in there to even see an inch in front of your face. But at least you can hear Shara through the wall.

“We’re getting out, I know it.” She’s optimistic, you’ll give her that. But you know that if you do ever make it out, it’ll be on your own. The Rebellion just doesn’t have the numbers to spare on a rescue mission for a couple of pilots who got a little too big for their boots.

“Well I’m not dying until I beat your track time, so we better.”

Shara laughs from the cell beside yours, loud and familiar, if maybe a little forced. It’s easier to join in her amusement when you don’t focus on the blood dripping down under your collar.

It’s a suspiciously easy bounty, something he’d normally pass up on. But there’d been an odd tug in his chest at the low-level puck and Din had negotiated it into his assignments from the Guild before he even really knew what he’d done. Some wannabe crime lord on a planet he didn’t care to learn the name of had set a bounty on an ex-guard, wanted him hand delivered. A deserter, he’d called him. Din pretended like that didn’t tug at his chest too.

He finds the man, oddly enough, digging up vegetables in a garden. Presumably it’s the quarry’s family home, nestled between the trees on a riverbank, and something about the way the man regards him feels extremely final. He doesn’t run, he doesn’t plead or try to fight, he simply places the bundle of freshly harvested vegetables on the doorstep and walks slowly back up the path. The bounty doesn’t say a word as his wrists are bound, nor as they start the trek through the wood towards the gang’s base.

A helmeted guard meets them at the doorway, gesturing into the dark hall, and Din only hesitates for a moment before nudging the quarry ahead of him. They barely make it into the main meeting room when a blaster shot hits the bounty right between the eyes. He crumples where he stands, Din has enough control not to flinch in surprise, and the man holding the smoking blaster splits a slimey grin. The boss, then. He points at the body, talking pointedly to his guards about loyalty and vows. It’s enough to leave a bad taste in Din’s mouth. He catches the pouch of credits thrown his way, and is ready to leave this whole mess behind him when the boss turns his attention onto the hunter.

“You have to stay for the show, Mando.”

“Show?” Was that not enough of a show?

“We found a couple of rats digging around in our armoury a few days ago, thought we’d have a little fun before they meet the same fate as our dear deserter.”

He leads Din to a small room with staggered seating above a lit area like a crude stage, clearly made for a larger audience than the six of them. There’s a single post in the middle with a woman in a dirty orange flight suit cuffed to it, blood on her face. An interrogation droid, he suppresses a shudder, is zapping her every few seconds to keep her from blacking out.

“We had the bantha-prod on the other one yesterday. Oh, the screaming.”

Unable to take his eyes off of the woman, he can’t stop himself seeing you in her place. He doesn’t even think before he’s unloaded a plasma cartridge into the boss and the four remaining guards. Din swings his pulse rifle around his body, aiming carefully, and disintegrates the droid before it can shock the woman again.

“Get your friend and get gone.” Din huffs out as he swipes the keys off of the boss and jumps down into the pit to unshackle the pilot. Her legs give out underneath her, dropping like dead weight, and for a second he’s not sure she’ll get back up. But she does, gritting her teeth the whole way.

“You think we were planning on sticking around?” She’s shaky, a little out of it for a moment before she steels herself and looks him in the eyes. Right in the eyes. It’s the same determination and strength Din always sees in you, and he knows she’ll be okay.

He leaves before the little voice in his head, the one that sounds like you, makes him do something stupid. Like stay and help the pilots, offer to take them back to their base, get sucked into a war he doesn’t have the cause to care about. Aside from one, glaringly obvious, you-shaped reason.

Shara wastes no time in ducking down the hall to the cells and getting to you. Her fingers shake when she flips through the chain to find the right chip, but the tension leaves her a little once the door slides back to reveal you curled in a dank corner. The light is harsh, after who knows how many hours sitting in complete darkness, and you’re only vaguely aware of her telling you somebody killed your captors.

“-Swooped in like a fucking knight in shining armour,” Shara laughs as she fumbles with the key to your binders, “It was crazy.”

She’s pulling you out of the cell and down the hall before you can really get your feet under you, knocking elbows and knees against the walls of the narrow space. But the logic of a pilot, a scrapper pilot, kicks in once you’ve adjusted to the movement.

“Dead guys don’t need guns, right? Might as well get what we came for.”

It takes Shara a moment to realise what you’re saying, but then she’s dragging you after her along the dim corridor. The wrong way. You have to tug on her hand to get her to slow, to point her in what you know is the right way to the armoury. You’re not sure exactly how you can be so certain, just that you know. You’ve always had a better sense of direction than her so she, at least, takes you at your word and barely stumbles in her haste.

There’s no welcoming party waiting on the landing pad for you, only a very tired looking command officer and a couple of medics, and the floodlights threaten to blind you as you and Shara lean on each other down the loading ramp. Tired, you’re both so tired.

“They’re in the cargo hold.” You manage between breaths, nodding your head towards the netting keeping the liberated armoury in place. The officer releases you to the medics at the same moment Shara loses consciousness and falls dead weight against your shoulder. The adrenaline starts to wear off as they catch her before she can hit the ground, you don’t argue when they sit you on the trolley beside her.

“What did they hit you with, Lieutenant?” A doctor you don’t recognise is in your face before you even register that you’re in the medbay.

“Forgive me if I was a little too preoccupied to ask.”

It hurts. The torn material of your flight suit is matted into your wounds, and you feel every little pull right down to your bones when she moves to lead you up and off of the trolley towards an empty bed. Even the lightest touch of her fingers around the singed edges threatens a wave of nausea. You bite it back with a grimace. If standing is this agonising, you really don’t want to find out what heaving feels like.

“Bantha-prod, looks like. Nasty burns.”

Another pair of hands guides you to lean forwards and brace your arms on the bed, and you try to remember to keep breathing while the doctor begins peeling your charred flight suit out of the half-healed burns on your back. More scars. Spots dance in your vision, blurring the world around you, and you lock your jaw up so tight to keep from screaming that you swear you crack a tooth. Even through this, this pain that seems to lick at every inch of your body, your only thought is that you want him. There’s a sharp scratch on your neck and a low groan that you think might have come from you, before the pain finally pulls you under.

Din finds no solace in the dusty tunnels of the covert, not the way he normally does. The image of Cork kneeling in the forge, enduring insults and anger and the loss of his creed without so much as a whimper. The quarry, walking from his family’s home to his death with no complaint. He’s not sure he could be that strong, that unaffected, if his treachery ever comes to light. He wonders what you would look like in the orange flight suit of rebel pilots. Maybe you knew the ones he freed, maybe he’d unknowingly saved a friend of yours. It might be the only honourable action he’s taken for years.

His lingering thought, as he finds his way to his quarters and collapses on the bed in a pile of armour and exhaustion, is how much more comfortable he is when you’re tucked into his side. Where you should be, he’s sure of it.

You plague his dreams that night, just like every night. Din sees nothing but your eyes, hears nothing but your laugh, feels nothing but your smile against his skin. He dreams about being somewhere far away with you, the way he wishes he could be. No rebels or creeds or empires, just you and him lying somewhere in soft grass watching clouds roll by. You’re wearing that old red sweater he took off of you the first night he touched you, and his armour is nowhere to be seen. He likes it that way. He can feel the warmth of you beside him like this.

But the pink-streaked sky morphs and suddenly he’s encompassed in darkness, the feeling of you surrounding him. He’s not afraid, not like when other dreams fade to black before he wakes. He knows you in this darkness, he knows himself. The sounds you make when you’re together in the dark, the heat of your mouth on him, sliding his cock past your lips. He wants this, you, for as long as you’ll let him have it. Everything you are, the smiles, the jokes, the sex, the exhaustion. The fire you get in your eyes stokes the one in his, he’s not sure who he would be without it. He could love you, one day, if that’s what you wanted. If he’s what you want. But nothing lasts, the Armourer’s voice breaks through your heady moans to condemn him as Dar’manda and you’re gone. Just like that.

Din wakes with a start. Hard in his flight suit and an even worse ache in his back. He can never see you again, a decision that leaves a pain so deep in his bones far worse than a wet dream or falling asleep in his armour ever could.

The comm buzzes late one night, weeks later.

“I’ve got a job on Akiva, if you’re anywhere near there.”

He leaves it unanswered.

TAGLIST (lmk if you want on or off the list):

@brothersdrxke @remmysbounty @aq-vetina @1800-fight-me @mandos-co @kesskirata @sarahjkl82-blog @firstofficerwiggles @keeper0fthestars @wille-zarr @rebloogggs @plants-are-better-than-humans @schreibsuchtis (tag machine broke again)

#lacuna #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars #fic #liz does words #obligatory prayer to the tag gods that they work #smut

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

Text

The Marvelous Misadventures of One: S. Marvin Argentum Ch. 3: In the Pit

Summary: Marvin realizes he’s in a bit too deep as the time continues to tick on.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Techno seemed to notice Thompson was in the club and instantly raced from the club and up the stairs, almost shouldering past people to get to the Sheriff.

“Sherman! Sherman!”

“Tech,” the huge burly man grumbled, crossing his arms in front of him. “I thought I saw yeh[1] slipping inta[2] town. What brings yah[1] over here?”

“I found a legate and it was awful!” Techno lamented, basically ignoring him, the two of them basically the same towering height.

Sherman rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, the fight lasted five seconds?”

“There wasn’t even a fight,” Techno complained. “I mean, bruhhh, he barely could defend himself. A dead leaf would have been a more satisfying fight.”

“So he’s dead?” Thompson asked.

“No, it would have been like killing a newborn puppy,” Techno huffed. “Come on, get in the pit so I can have a good fight.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Thompson scoffed and pushed Ghostbur towards the front. “Just bringin’ yer brother to yeh.”[3]

Techno looked annoyed, “Ghostbur, what are you doing here?”

“I’m helping my friends,” Ghostbur smiled.

“I’ve seen what your “help” does,” Techno rolled his eyes. “You here for Phil then?”

Ghostbur looked nervous, “I . . . uh . . . I would like to see him but I don’t know.”

“Did you bring some of the heroes with you?” Techno was looking at Marvin.

“Yah[1] know, we’ll go, we just caught yeh[1] at a bad moment,” Marvin tried to intervene.

“What are you three even doin’[4] here?” Techno leaned against the balcony railing, another fight starting up in absence of Techno.

“We were gonna[5] pick a fight with the Legionnaires’ Guildmaster, but Ghostbur here took us ta[6] see the Sheriff o’er[7] here. So we’ll just go.” Marvin jabbed his thumb at the exit.

“Taking ‘em[8] on, huh? ‘Bout[9] time someone did.” Techno hummed. Then he looked at Ghostbur and nudged him towards the other side of the balcony where the VIP area was. “Hey Ghostbur, why don’t you go say hi to Phil. He’s probably seen you already, so just head on over.”

“Wait a second,” Marvin moved to follow Ghostbur who was already moving to the VIP area.

Techno summoned and axe and moved in-between Ghostbur and Marvin.

“Look, you two make one wrong move against Phil and I’ll take your heads off,” Techno threatened.

“Not lookin’ fer a fight, I want ta get out ‘a here with Ghostbur an’ take care ‘a the hunters up north,”[10] Marvin told him firmly.

Techno braced his axe on his shoulder, “Just watch yourself.”

Ghostbur rushed over to the door and Marvin followed him, Techno opened the door for them.

“Phil!” Techno called out over the loud music. “We got company.”

Philza reached for the remote and turned the music down to a low whisper.

“Techno!” the little girl called out.

“Hey sis,” Techno smiled, walking over to her and kneeling down so the two of them could bump foreheads. “Enjoy the show?”

“You murdered them dead!” She screamed. “Blood for the Blood God!”

“That’s right, good job kid,” Techno smiled.

“Hey Ghostbur,” Philza greeted tensely. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Oh, he’s still in Brighton,” Ghostbur smiled. “He and Tubbo are having so much fun.”

“Right,” Phil kicked his feet up and stood. “Good fer[11] them.”

“You might wanna[12] know, Quackity’s here,” Techno told Philza, “I saw him when I was in the pit.”

“Okay,” Phil remarked as if he really didn’t care either way.

“I think I saw Fundy and that one slime guy with him,” Techno added.

Phil’s good wing puffed up, “Shit! Shit!”

Ghostbur gasped, clearly ecstatic, “What? Fundy? He’s here?”

Phil raced across the room and hit the intercom button, “Fundy! You furball, get yer[13] ass up here this instant! I wanna[12] know where you are!”

“Oh, Marv, have you met Fundy?” Ghostbur was floating a bit off the ground. “You have to meet him. He’s my son.”

“I think I have,” Marvin answered, more than a little surprised by that information.

Techno loudly cleared his throat. “So while we’re waiting for Fundy and probably Quackity to show up, you mind tell me what brings you to Arizona? Last I checked, Egoton was in Chicago, or something like that.”

“We were gonna[5] deal with the Legionnaires, but Ghostbur said he knew someone so we took a detour,” Marvin explained. “Really we should’a[14] stopped at the station, but we’ll go.”

“You needed allies, you two are alone,” Phil said in a way that made Marvin feel like the avian was staring through his very soul. “Why go fer[11] ‘em[15] now? The hunters have been bigger problems before?”

Marvin weighed his options. “Cause they’re workin’ with the CIA an’ Dark’s nemesis. An’ they’re gonna crash a weddin’.”[16]

Techno started bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking like a small child that had been gifted a full sized robot suit for Christmas.

Phil, however, let out an indignant, insulted huff, “Oi![17] Did that fooker[18] replace me an’[19] Tech with some other bastard? How dare he‽”

“Man, is there anyone Dark hasn’t pissed off?” Marvin chuckled.

“Seems ta[6] be a much shorter list ‘a[20] who he hasn’t,” Phil smiled. “Phantom taught him really well in that regard.”

“Huh,” Marvin commented. He realized that for being two demons of roughly the same age, supposedly, and being the same type of demon that Philza and Dark were kinda opposites. “So yeh[1] on the same hatin’[21] human trend as he is, never met a demon that was particularly nice.”

“Nah,” Phil smiled. “I love humans, they make the best things like anime, an’[19] memes, an’[19] the word: “fuck”. So I love humans.”

“How old are you?” Taylor asked.

The avian demon shrugged, “I don’t count keep anymore. 350? Almost 400? I don’t know.”

At that moment the door opened and Marvin stepped out of the line of fire as Fundy walked in, Quackity and Slime right behind him.

Quackity stiffened nervously when he locked eyes with Techno,

“Fundy,” Ghostbur smiled as he started to advance. “My little champion. How are you?”

Fundy hissed, all the hair on his head and ears standing on edge. “You touch me, and I bite you.”

“Hey, chill out fer[11] five seconds will yeh[1]?” Marvin snapped back. “He hasn’t done anythin’ ta yeh.”[22]

“Oh, he’s done more than enough,” Fundy snapped.

Techno spoke up, “Where’s Tubbo? This gonna[5] be a butcher’s army 2.0?”

“No, I just came here ta[6] catch up with some contacts, didn’t even know you two were in town,” Quackity denied, taking a step back as he glanced at Techno.

“Sides we’d need Ranboo for that,” Fundy muttered a bit too loud.

“Oi![17] You watch yerself,[23] Ranboo can do no wrong!” Phil shouted at his grandson.

“Are you kidding me?” Fundy shouted back, devolving into a series of frustrated, incoherent grumbling noises.

“Looks like a pretty important meeting up here?” Quackity smiled, looking around. “You all having fun?”

“Bruhh, these two wanna[12] take on the Legionnaires and the government,” Techno declared. “And I’m helping.”

“Wait what?” Marvin demanded before his brain could tell him that looking a gift horse in the mouth was a bad idea. “Since when have yeh[1] been in on this?”

“Since you told me that you were taking on the CIA,” Technoblade grinned. “That type of stuff is literally all I do.”

The hunter spoke up, they’d been mostly quiet up until now, mostly watching the situation fly wildly out of control, but now they interjected, “I’m going to duel the Guildmaster, take over the Guild and take them back on track to what our Guild was meant to be, protecting people and not making deals with people who are literally worse than demons.”

“So you’re saying that if you’re in control you’ll go against the government?” Technoblade said.

“If that means protecting people like we’re supposed to be doing from the start, then yes,” Taylor told him.

“Now that’s the type of thing I like to hear,” Techno grinned. “But if you back out on that, I will take care of you.”

“Right,” the hunter didn’t break eye contact.

“So, yer[24] gonna[5] help us fight them then?” Marvin asked.

“Heh,” Techno grinned. “Taking down the self-entitled discount Spanish Inquisition, and the government? You’d have to fight me not to come.”

“Get rid of the Legionnaires?” Quackity smiled. “Count me in, wish I had brought Sam and Sap, they would’a[25] made this a breeze.”

Then the casino owner turned to his two companions, “Fundy, Slime, if you two aren’t up for it, yeh[1] can go back to the hotel.”

Fundy seemed to have a fire burning in his eyes, “I can do it, I want in.”

Slime gave a huge, lopsided grin, “I will also come with Quackity from Las Nevadas.”

“You wanna[12] stay on your retirement couch, Ol’[26] Man?” Techno prodded, smiling at Phil.

“Shut!” Philza snapped, rolling his eyes when Techno laughed at him.

“I wanna[12] come with,” Techno’s little sister told them.

“No!” Thompson and Techno both told her. She pouted and deflated a little bit.

“I’ll take her back an’[19] meet you all there,” Thompson told them.

“So, kitty, you got a plan?” Quackity gave him a sharp grin.

Marvin paused for a second, “Yeah, I think I got one.”

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

Accessibility Translations:

1. you

2. into

3. Just bringing your brother to you.

4. doing

5. going to

6. to

7. over

8. them

9. About

10. Not looking for a fight, I want to get out of here with Ghostbur and take care of the hunters up north

11. for

12. want to

13. your

14. should have

15. them

16. Because they’re working with the CIA and Dark’s nemesis. And they’re going to crash a wedding.

17. Hey! (or: Wait a second!)

18. fucker

19. and

20. of

21. hating

22. He hasn’t done anything to you.

23. yourself

24. you’re

25. would have

26. Old

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bethagain · 3 years

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I saw a post the other day lamenting that Din probably hasn’t felt the sun on his skin in years, and it reminded me that I never did share a tumblr version of this fic.

So, here's part III of my series On From Here. In which Din moves some rocks, eats some cake, and sits in a sunbeam.

Honest Work

The inn has a mechanical lift. It’s a small square box that lowers on a pulley. A thin cable rises from its roof and disappears into darkness above. Din looks at it skeptically and then takes the stairs. They’re narrow and dark, the treads shallow.

“Leave the key!” the innkeeper calls after him, as he strides across the dimly lit lobby toward the exit.

Making an enemy of his host here is not a good idea.

He pauses to lay the key on the counter. The dull brass shank of it clinks against its worn metal fob. There’s nothing in the room to steal, anyway.

The town center consists of a handful of low-slung buildings, all with the same tile roofs. Din pauses at the window of a repair shop. Everything inside looks old, mechanical, un-streamlined. They’d probably know exactly how to fix up the Razor Crest, with its pre-Imperial control system and antique wiring. If there were still a Razor Crest to fix.

Next is a general store, with bolts of fabric, tools, and fresh produce all for sale together. There’s a four-legged riding beast tied outside, a simple saddle on its back. A woman is choosing meemfruit from a bin near the door. She turns to watch him walk by.

There doesn’t seem to be a proper drinking establishment. At the end of the row is a small cafe, with a handful of tables and a bar at the back. Several of the tables are occupied. Some people on their own, some groups of adults, a couple of families. Most have plates of food in front of them. A shelf above the bar holds an assortment of liquor bottles.

This place will have to do.

He orders a glass of whiskey, for the sake of manners, and settles in at the bar to wait. The armor serves as its own advertisement.

"You're not going to find what you’re looking for here."

He turns toward the voice. The words are from a grizzled man seated at a corner table.

Din doesn’t bother answering, just squares his shoulders back toward the bar again. Every place has someone who’s hiding. And someone else who wants them found.

The man has come over to the bar, now, and is sliding onto the stool beside him.

Great.

"This is not that kind of town."

"Every town is that kind of town."

"Not here." The man signals to the waiter, who pours something from a spigot and sets it down. Tiny bubbles break its surface, making a faint sound of static. He takes a drink. "We didn't hold with the Empire. We don't hold with the New Republic. We live and let live, around here."

"Fine." Maybe if Din agrees, this man will go away.

"You try to bring somebody in, the whole town's going to stop you."

"Look," says Din, "I have no quarrel with anyone here. I'm just looking to earn a few credits."

The helmet’s interface lets him know that someone’s taken the barstool on his other side. The screen fills the gaps in his peripheral vision. It’s a woman, long hair in a braid, sleeveless top and arms of solid muscle.

“Not here,” she says.

The other tables are emptying, more townspeople coming to form a semicircle behind him. Even the children are glaring at him.

Damn.

“All right.” He knows better than to move his hands without a warning. “Let me pay for my drink, and I’ll be on my way.” He reaches slowly for the pouch at his waist, keeping his hand well clear of his blaster. “What do I owe you?”

The bartender names a figure. Din doubles it, setting down the small stack of credits before rising to leave.

The bartender tries to give the extra back. “That’s too much.”

“You keep it,” Din says. “Payment for the trouble.”

“Hold on.” It’s the man on the barstool beside him again. “You really just looking for work?”

Din waits, standing there by the bar. The townspeople stay there in their circle, but hands are starting to drift away from holsters. The weapons here seem to be mostly slugthrowers. Mechanical things, not blasters with their circuitry and electrics. Interesting.

“Any kind of work?” the man asks.

There are limits, even for someone like Din. “Honest work.”

The man grins at him, white teeth flashing through his unruly beard. “You look strong enough,” he says. “If it’s not beneath you, in your fancy armor there. I need somebody to move some rocks."

The job is not at all what Din had in mind, but it does, indeed, sound like honest work. And he’s not in a place to be picky.

He’s sitting next to the bearded man on a plank across the front of a high-wheeled wooden cart. The cart is pulled by two solid-looking beasts, four-legged and shaggy. Their pace is sedate and steady, the cart rolling easily over grassland. They’re headed toward a row of trees in a valley, between rolling hills.

The trees mark a stream, the man says, and on that stream is an old stone dam that diverts the water. “We’re opening up new farmland. Need to get that water back in its proper course. Get it down to the right place on the land. My regular crew could do it, but it’s heavy work. They’re not itching to volunteer.”

“Why not use an antigrav lifter?” Why pay a man for a whole day’s work, when a simple machine would cut that down to a couple of hours.

“We’re not big believers in tech around here. Parts have to be imported. Electric’s complicated to repair. We don’t care to be dependent on anyone, any more than we have to.”

That explains the shop in town, then, with its antique machinery in the window. And the hotel lift, and the drying jets that don’t work anymore.

“That’s why the slugthrowers?"

“You noticed. That’s right.” The man chuckles. “Keeps things calmer, too. If you have to forge a new bullet every time you use one, you’re a little less likely to draw.”

The cart trundles along. The sky overhead is a clear blue, the sun warm. Din nudges up the cooling system in his armor.

They go along a little way among the trees, until they’re beside a narrow stream of clear water. It emerges from a low pile of stones at the edge of a pond.

From his seat on the cart, the man points to a smaller valley that runs off to the right. “The pond drains over that way, now. Pull the dam out, and it’ll run the way it should again.”

Din takes in the clear stream, the small oval pond, the branching valley. “Who’s using that water now?”

“The folks over yonder were a little too friendly with the Empire,” the man says. “Town asked them to leave.”

“Did they leave?”

“I thought you bounty hunters had a rule about asking questions.”

“This isn’t a Guild job,” Din says.

“Suppose not." The man turns to reach toward the back of the cart, and Din tenses. But he’s just picking up a wooden box by its leather handle. He hands it to Din. "Here's lunch. We're not fancy but our crew eats well. Water in the stream's safe to drink. And don’t worry, there’s no one left to come bother you.”

He waits while Din climbs down from the cart. “You could walk out when you’re done, but it's a long way after a day's work. I'll be back to get you at sundown."

Din watches the cart make its sedate way back through the trees, the shaggy beasts pulling at their traces, the man humming off-key as he goes.

He finds a flat rock to put the lunch box on. It contains a dented metal cup, a stack of wrapped sandwiches, some pieces of a fruit he doesn’t recognize, and a generous slice of cake that smells of ginger and dark sugar.

He closes the box back up again and goes over to inspect the dam.

This certainly isn’t his usual kind of work. But a ship needs fuel and a man needs food, and pushing on to the next port with just the credits he has on hand feels reckless. Unwise. Plus, being in debt to Boba Fett is like a deep itch under his skin. It’s not comfortable. He wants it gone.

Din is no engineer, but piloting a ship means he’s used to thinking in three dimensions. He considers the shape of the dam, the way the rocks are stacked atop one another, the chinks where the water flows through. The thing looks like it was hand-built, the stones large enough not to move with the water but small enough to be picked up. The original stream cut a gully into the soil, but it’s shallow, the dam itself only a bit over knee-high.

The forest floor here is carpeted with broad, leathery leaves. Wide-trunked trees are spaced far apart, with little undergrowth between them. Their canopies cast shade across the ground. Here and there, a few sunbeams find their way through.

If he starts at the far side, removing the rocks in vertical columns, the stream should come slowly back to life. His gloves will protect his hands from the roughness of the stone. His boots are already sticking in the mud at the edge of the water. They’re water-resistant, good for a while in a rainstorm, but they’re going to be soaked through by the time he’s done.

At first, muscles complain at being asked to move in ways they’re not used to. This steady pattern of bend, lift, bend is very different from the sudden, sharp quickness of a fight. His daily workouts are rigorous but they’re precise, prescribed patterns. Each of these stones has a different shape, a different weight. Keeping his feet out of the water, keeping his balance on the slight slope makes each one its own physics problem, its own little challenge.

Soon enough, though, he’s settled into the rhythm of it. He remembers to use his legs when lifting, to save strain on his back. He kicks up the cooling system again, as sweat begins to gather under the armor.

The armor’s physiological monitors are simple, but they register heartbeat, breathing, temperature. Normally, he ignores the ping that says it might be time to take a break, to drink some water and catch his breath. Because normally, when that ping goes off, taking a break would either be desperately stupid--in the middle of a firefight?--or stupidly desperate, like during the hours walking the Tatooine desert back to Mos Eisley, carrying the wreckage of a speeder bike, no water at all on board.

This time, he gets the dented cup from the wooden box and carries it over to the stream. It’s already flowing faster, but his work has kicked up sediment. Din goes back to the box, grabs one of the wrapped sandwiches, and sets out to find the pond’s other outlet.

It’s not far. The other stream burbles over a few rocks at the edge of the pond, then curves through another shallow gully and off down a gentle slope and away. One of the great trees rises nearby, a couple of its wide roots undercut by the water.

He’s starting to feel chilled as the cooling system interacts with sweat-dampened clothing, so he switches the cooling circuits off. The helmet’s interface tells him the air outside is still warm.

Din considers, sandwich in one hand, cup in the other. There is a sunbeam crossing over the tree roots, making the water sparkle.

The forest around him is quiet.

Decision made, he dips the cup in the stream, then chooses a spot to sit on one of the wide tree roots, back against the trunk. He balances the cup on the leaf-covered ground, sets the sandwich down beside it. Then he lifts the helmet from his head, setting it in his lap as he rests his head on the tree’s rough bark, eyes closed against the brightness of the sun.

When did he last feel sunlight on his skin? It’s been a while. Before he picked up the child, surely. It hasn’t been safe to let his guard down. How long before that, though? He thinks back, but it’s a blur of work, the halls of the Nevarro covert, the streets of strange towns.

Din knows better than to stay in the sun for long. Skin that’s always covered has no defense against UV rays. After a few minutes he shifts to the shade, sitting crosslegged on the forest floor. The water from the stream is sweet, with a slight mineral taste underneath. The sandwich isn’t bad either, fresh bread dotted with different kinds of grain, slices of some kind of tender meat and crisp green leaves with just a hint of bitter.

He makes his way back around the pond to continue the work. Wiggle each stone free. Lift, carry. He’s building a sort of stone cairn, setting each one down neatly, just because it feels good to see the thing take shape.

His gloves are soaked by now, as he has to reach into the water to get at the lowest rows of stones. The water can’t be good for the circuits in the vambraces so he sheds those, too, setting them down on the flat rock beside the wooden lunch box, where his helmet already sits.

He could keep the cooling system running, but it’s not designed for this kind of exertion. The constant movement will keep the power cell charged, but he’s sweating in spite of it, and the chill from the beskar is a distraction instead of a comfort.

He’s already vulnerable without the helmet and the vambraces. He lays out cuirass, pauldrons, hip and thigh plates on that flat stone. His hand pauses on the blaster, but if it’s waterlogged it’s not going to work at all.

He looks down at the thick fabric of the flightsuit, already wet at wrists and ankles. He's got another layer underneath it. May as well leave that too.

He makes a detour through another sunbeam on the way back to the dam.

Without the armor to filter the outside world, he’s aware of the warmth of the sun on his back. Of the change in temperature between sun and shadow.

Without the helmet’s interface, he marks time by how the patches of sun creep slowly across the forest floor.

When a rush of water takes him by surprise, soaking him from elbow to wrist and chest to hip, he sheds his shirt, laying it out on the stone cairn to dry.

The air is still warm. The water that splashes his wrists is cool. He pauses again for food, then sets back to work. At one point he cups his hands in the running stream and drinks, then runs wet hands through his sweat-soaked hair.

Clearing the last few stones means sinking his hands into mud to wrest them free. When he’s carried them over and set them atop the neat pile, he looks down and finds he’s covered in mud from chest to waistband.

His employer said he’d be back at sunset. Din looks up, judging the height of the sun in the sky. Late afternoon, he guesses, edging into evening. It’s unpleasant fitting the helmet back on over wet hair, his face still damp with sweat, but he does it. The chrono built into the interface tells him there’s a good two hours until sundown.

He turns a slow circle, heat and motion sensors overlaying his vision, sound turned up high. There’s birdsong high above him, but otherwise the forest is still.

He fetches his shirt, piles the armor and flightsuit into his arms and carries it all to the edge of the pond. Then, thinking what the hell, he shucks boots, socks, and leggings and wades on in.

Din doesn’t know how to swim. It’s not a skill he normally needs in his work. It’s not a skill he particularly needs now, either. But the mud is pleasantly soft against his feet, the water soothing to tired muscles. He ducks his head under, scrubs at the dirt on his chest, rinses away sweat.

For the second time today, he uses his shirt to dry off. The approach of evening is bringing a slight chill to the air, so he pulls his other clothes back on, fastening the flightsuit over his bare chest this time before setting the pieces of his armor in place.

Back at the flat stone he considers another sandwich, decides on the cake instead, and then sits there a while, licking sugar from his fingers and watching the stream at its full strength now as it sparkles its way down the valley.

True to his word, the man is back with the wagon just as the sunbeams finish fading. He takes note of the neat cairn, and of the unfettered stream. “I wasn’t sure you’d really do it,” he says. “Guy like you. Work like this.”

Din just looks at him, impassive behind the helmet. He’s pretty much done with dignity these days, but this man doesn’t need to know it.

“Well,” the man says. “We’re clearing more land tomorrow. If you want another day’s work.”

“I’ll take my pay for this one.”

“Of course.” He counts out the amount they agreed on and drops it into Din’s hand. “I mean it. We can always use a strong set of hands.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Where are you staying?”

Din names the inn.

The man nods. “I’ll drop you there?”

“That would be fine.”

The first stars are out by the time Din steps down from the wagon, credits in his pocket and the last two sandwiches in his hand. He picks up the key from the innkeeper, climbs the narrow stairs, locks the door of the room behind him. He hangs his wet shirt in the shower room, lays out his wet gloves and socks to dry, strips off the armor and sets it carefully on the floor. His skin smells faintly of mud and minerals, but he can’t be bothered to shower. He sits by the window to eat, watching more stars emerge from the clear, dark sky.

The money in his pocket won’t buy much. It’s a little more fuel, another day or two of getting by.

He’ll leave in the morning. Probably.

He still has no idea where to go.

#the mandalorian #fanfic #din djarin #my fic

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jeanjauthor · 3 years

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Hello I think thinking more high born ladies, in typically England or even France16th century. Like how could I show the importance with embroidery, needlework, making cheese, and other lady specific things in those times

Well, think of it this way: Certain regions were doing exceptional work in different things. English wool was considered superior, Flemish cloth was considered superior, French lace (in certain regions) was considered superior, England again had an entire guild dedicated to making thread-of-gold that no one else could match, Italian cheese (parmesan) was widely traded because it was preserved so well, Sweden / Finland sold a lot of tall straight trees for ship masts, and so on.

Do a little bit of research, and then you could have your embroidering noblewomen being praised for "being every bit as good as (region)" ...though if it's in an historical setting the noblewomen wouldn't necessarily be expected to make a living at such embroidery, because as people head toward the later centuries. If it's an English woman and she's making lace, "That's even better than what I've seen the merchants bring from the lacemakers of Alsace! With your skills, we could make a gift of such fine lace to the King & Queen! That would surely raise our standing in the royal court..."

As for cheesemaking, the dairy was THE woman's domain, and men were NOT allowed into it. Women might not have known about microbes and germs, but they DID know that cleanliness was an absolute must for the dairy room. There's a wonderful series online, Tudor Monastic Farm, and I'll share a link to where the scenes with the dairy first begins, located here: https://youtu.be/fhZv2iYuWVE?t=1068

The series has a couple of archaeologists (the gents) and a domestic skills researcher (Ruth Goodman) doing historical re-enactment based upon the archaeology, writings, and theories about how things actually happened back then--and the Tudor era is right in your ballpark in the 16th century (1500s CE). You might want to watch the whole series for inspiration.

Even if it is about what farmers went through in a year, not nobles, a lot of what happened on a farm was still very important to the nobility, because that was a part of their livelihoods, too. Nobles didn't always just sit around in the cities looking pretty. (In fact, cities were often a bit...anti-noble...especially prior to the era of the Black plague, because of that whole freed men not land serfs status thing.) The sitting in cities looking pretty thing was much more later period. (1700s, 1800s.)

A competent noblewoman was expected to be able to oversee, hire, and possibly even train various servants on the estate / in the manor house / castle, as well as visit the various tenanted farms (like the Tudor Monastery Farm, taking the place of the monastery's oversight). While the lord of the castle might do more of the visiting, if he was away handling matters of politics, warfare, etc, perhaps taking his adult sons, and he might have a seneschal to oversee properties he didn't live upon, his lady wife was often expected to take up the burdens of the nobility's leadership (such as it was) and see to things herself--in an overseer's capacity, if not necessarily putting her own shoulder to the wheel of the stuck wagon.

If you have a character that tries to disparage women by saying, "What did you do while I was off saving our lands from invasion, literally risking life and limb in battle?" you could have your women reply, "Making sure you still had a home to come back to, and food on your table, and clothes on your back! Money in your coffers, the taxes paid on time and in full so the king didn't take our lands from us in payment instead! Everything you see here that is still here while you were gone, is still here because I made sure it would be! You would have nothing without me, and you know it! Have the grace to admit it, and stop yelling at me."

On the other hand, if the husband/father/brother isn't a douchebag*, then he/they can notice "However did you convince Farmer Attewell to fix that hedgerow? I nagged him for weeks before leaving for the city!"

"It turns out it's very hard to do a full day's labor far from the house if your wife is too ill to mind the children, so I sent the Widow Thrushberry off to the Attewell's farm to tend the house and children, along with Maisy, the hen girl to help as well, since the hens weren't laying until this last week. And since the blacksmith wasn't too busy either, I paid his two strapping sons to make a pair of bill hooks for pleaching, and sent them out to help Attewell with the hedge laying, so they'd know how to wield what they make, and thus give it some thought as to how to make them better, the next time."

"You paid the blacksmiths sons? With what money? Not the seed money for ensuring all the farmers can do their plantings?"

"Not the seed money, no. Since you didn't take me to the city, I didn't need to buy embroidered trim from Mistress Speckleton to cover the worn spots to make my gown look newer...though if you made any profit off your time in the city, I should very much like that trim for a gift some day soon."

"I shall see to it tomorrow. You have done well, my wife--far better than I. The Attewell's bull will no longer be a risk for wandering the roads--I'll see to it the linen weavers make you some fine linen for new clothes as well. I was never so blessed as the day we wed, though I could not know my great fortune for years to come--I should have you solve all the problems around here, my lady wife! You'll have me right-handed to the king some day!"

"You deal better with the merchants than I do, so I'll be pleased, my lord husband, if you'll continue to do so--else we'd be right-hand to the king, but absolute paupers for it."

...As you can see, there are ways to show the value of women's work, either through combatting disrespect or showing (ideally but not necessarily mutual) respect.

If it's an actual historical setting, there's only so much a writer can do to nudge things towards better equity and better equality between the genders, before it starts straining the readers' credulity too much. But if it's a created world, there's quite a lot more flexibility. In a created world, there's more room to include in your culture acceptance of women who are big and strong, women who can fight, women who can do "traditionally male" tasks...and you can also show more gender-equity by having men doing "traditionally female" tasks, too.

For example, if you have a noblewoman trying to teach her daughter how to run the manor's dairy, but the daughter is mad for combat and insists upon training with sword and bow, etc, that's one way...but you can also have a son who is absolutely interested in the complex methods of making cheese, brewing beer, and who absolutely loves doing embroidery. And if both children are in the same family, the parents can have one of those brief eye-contact moments, roll their eyes, sigh, shrug...and the father takes the daughter under his wing, the mother takes the son under hers, and they go on with that arrangement instead of "the more traditional one."

#*douching is actually pretty bad for vaginal microflora so yes this is an acceptable insult #answers #ladies work #respecting what ladies do

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storyofmychoices · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Masterlist] [Mal’s Orphanage Series]

Characters: Mal Volari, Daenarya (F!MC, human), Rayden (OC), Lydo (OC), Vayne (OC)

Warnings: brief allusion to child abandonment and abuse (Mal visits the Thieves Guild), threats of violence, swearing/language

Setting: Mal and Daenarya have opened an orphanage in White Tower. They have taken in a young boy, Rayden, and have been looking for his brother who has been missing for over a month. At the market, Rayden said he saw Lydo being dragged away by a man with a tattoo very similar to Mal’s.

This follows Back Where it All Started

(This is the fourth part of Rayden & Lydo’s story. I decided to break this part in half, so part five should be the last part of their initial adoption story.)

Synopsis: Mal promises to retrieve Lydo (Rayden’s missing brother) but to do that he has to return to the one place he never wanted to return.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

His tearstained face was hidden in his pillow as Daenarya softly stroked his back trying to soothe the five-year-old.

Mal brushed the boy’s hair to the side, kneeling beside the bed. “Here. Try this.” He held out a glass of warm milk with some herbs.

“Nuh-uh!” Rayden buried his face further into his bed, scooting away from Mal.

“It will make you feel better,” Daenarya promised, trying to get his attention.

“I want Lydo!” He pouted, hugging Beary the Bear tightly against his chest. “He needs help!”

“We will help him, but we need a plan. We don’t want him to get hurt…. Hey. Look at me.” Mal gently turned Rayden’s face to him. “I promised I will get your brother back and I will.”

“When?” He sniffled. The tears on his face mixing with the mucus from his nose.

“Soon. I just need you to trust me. Do you think you can do that?”

The back of his little hand wiped over his red, swollen eyes. Tears quickly pooled again falling over his warm cheeks. He shrugged unable to stop his lip from quivering.

Mal sighed heavily, his fingers stroking his chin at a loss for how to help the child. Rayden was only a year younger than he was when he was taken by the Thieves Guild. His eyes crinkled, closing in anguish as the memories of that time flashed back... the sleepless nights, the fear of being in that horrid place, the threats of violence, the loneliness even when surrounded by others. He wouldn't wish that life on any child. He shook away the heavy thoughts, he couldn't change the past but he could make sure one less child had to suffer that fate. He opened his eyes again, focusing on the child that needed him first. His fingers slipped into the coin purse on his belt, shifting around to the bottom in search of the one coin unlike all of the others. He caressed it carefully between his fingers before holding out the unusual coin.

“My mom gave me this before she died, when I was a little younger than you are now...It’s the only thing I have of hers. I want you to hold on to it until I can rescue your brother.” He gently opened one of Rayden’s balled fists and placed it safely in his palm. “I’m trusting you with this… can you trust me?”

The boy blinked back his tears as he examined the curious coin. It had round edges but a square hole cut out in the center, surrounded by strange symbols. On the back were intersecting lines. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Mal admitted, watching the child become mesmerized by the coin. “I’ve never seen another like it.”

“I trust you.” Rayden whimpered. “Just promise to hurry.”

“We will.” Mal brushed his thumb across the boy’s cheek, wiping away his tears. He lifted the glass of milk once more. “Drink this. It will help you rest.”

Rayden sat up and slowly sipped the warm milk. Daenarya took the opportunity to clean his face. Hoping that soon, he would fall asleep and wake up feeling a little better.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“Are you sure about this?” Daenarya fretted.

He took her hands in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I have to try it the honorable way first.”

“Mal Volari, being honorable, I never thought I’d see the day.” She nudged him, trying to calm both of their nerves, knowing what he was planning to do was not going to be easily accepted.

His arms snaked around her He buried his head in her hair, letting her familiar scent remind him of home, as he focused on all the reasons he had to make it back. “I love you, Daeny.”

“I know!” She pressed him back, smirking as she ran her thumb over his jaw. “And when you come back, I’ll let you know how I feel.”

He leaned into her touch, his beard tingling her skin as he moved to kiss her wrist. “I guess I’ll have to hurry!”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The old building, while fortified, was crumbling from time and neglect. Not much had changed since the last time he was there, but why should it have, it’s not like the thief masters were using any of the stolen treasures to improve the lives of the children or their buildings. It went straight to their pockets and hoards. His blood boiled as his fists clenched. He had to let it go, he couldn’t let them get to him. He would beat them by being better.

“For me? You shouldn’t have?” Mal tossed his hair back as he sauntered toward the front doors of the Thieves Guild, stopping in front of the two men who had drawn their swords to him. “And here I thought you were the welcoming committee ready to open the doors for me.”

“Go back to the palace, hero,” the guard warned spitting at Mal’s feet.

Mal’s fingers flirted with his dagger. He took a step toward them, flashing a devilish grin. “Yeah, saving the world has this way of dampening your reputation. What can you do?”

Before the men had time to react, Mal had kicked the sword out of one of the guard’s hands, his dagger pressed into his throat.

“Now, you don’t want to do that.” Mal quirked an eyebrow at the other guard who was holding his sword to him. “You stab me, I cut your friend’s throat, and you’ve got a bloody mess to clean up… so here is what you’re going to do. You’re going to lower your weapon and give me the respect I deserve.”

“Never!”

“It wasn’t a request! You will do as I say.” Mal rolled up his sleeve, exposing his Reaper tattoo.

The guard immediately sheathed his sword, lowering his head. “I didn’t know, sir. Apologies.”

“Much better.” Mal twirled his dagger, before lowering it. “Now, I’d like to speak to your boss.”

“Sir? That’s not possible.”

“Again. It wasn’t a request. Make it possible!”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

He fought against his memories as the damp and musty smell of the old building threatened to remind him of the past. He focused on his mission and the little boy waiting at home for him to return.

“He will see you now.” The guard escorting him opened the door to a large office.

“Vayne,” Mal greeted, noting the man sitting in the elaborate chair behind the ridiculously enormous desk, clearly overcompensating. “You got old.”

“Mal Volari, as I live and breath,” the old man’s darkened eyes narrowed at the Rogue. “Welcome home.”

His jaw clenched, fighting against himself. “This was never my home.”

“You dishonor me, boy,” Vayne’s domineering voice boomed throughout the room as he slapped his fists against his desk.

And for a moment, Mal was that scared little six-year-old boy again.

“I should kill you right here. You owe me a debt. The money I lost when you left. Now, you’re masquerading as some sort of would-be hero. Don’t forget, I know you. The real you. The one that has killed for me, and developed a taste for blood. You live and breathe in my city because I allow it.” Vayne leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling over Mal. “But, perhaps it is destiny that brought you back to me. No one would ever question a hero. What do you say, come home?”

“I spent years clawing my way out of this hell-hole, I’ll be damned if I let you or anyone else draw me back in.” Mal’s fingers wrapped around his dagger. It would be so easy to throw it and take him out, quickly without anyone being able to stop him. But, he wasn’t alone anymore, he had someone to live for and people that needed him. “I’m not here to discuss me. You have a child that I want. Release him to me..”

“And, who are you to make a demand like that,” Vayne scoffed amused by Mal’s request.

Mal threw a bag of gold coins on his desk. “That should more than cover it.”

Vayne poured the bag’s contents out on his desk, examining the coins. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t trust you.”

“Do we have a deal?” Mal questioned as the man returned the gold to the bag.

“This won’t even cover what a boy can make in a year, let alone his life. No deal.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Mal knew there was a chance this wouldn’t work so he tried not to lose his temper, as much as he’d like to take the years of pent up anger and pain out on this man, he wouldn’t. Not now at least. He reached for the coins.

“I’ll be keeping that,” the man instructed, snatching the bag of gold out of Mal’s reach and handing it to one of his advisors behind him. “Consider it back payment on dues you owe. Allowing you to leave unscathed is your gift. One you don’t deserve for the dishonor you showed me.”

“You will regret this,” Mal threatened. “I will be back.”

“Then you will die,” the man stated coldly. “Get him out of here.”

Three guards surrounded him, grabbing at him to lead him out. “Guys, I know I’m beautiful, but I’m spoken for.” He winked as he freed himself from their grasp. “I think I can see myself out. I remember the way.”

As the doors closed and locked behind him, his heart sank knowing he had failed... But he owed it to Daenarya, Rayden, and most importantly himself to at least try it the honorable way first. His lips turned up as a plan began to form. He was the greatest thief the city had ever known, stealing a child back, now that was the kind of challenge he would enjoy.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Perma tags: @lilyoffandoms ; @raleighcarrera ; @mfackenthal ; @the-soot-sprite ; @virtuallytakenby ; @zeniamiii ; @kaavyaethanramsey; @choicesobsessed; @xjustin-ethansgirliex ; @caseyvalentineramsey; @trappedinfandoms; @anotherbeingsworld ; @tyrils-star

Blades Tags: @princess-geek ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @missameliep ; @mvalentine; @walkerswhiskeygirl ; @nyastarlight

#Mal volari #mal volari x mc #blades of light and shadow #bolas #blades #playchoices #fan fiction #daenarya #mal x daenarya #rayden #lydo #the orphanage

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 4 years

Text

We Do This to Live Ch. 6

Chapter Six

Summary: On Earth-198742, there are no heroes. There’s humans. There’s mutants. There are even some that fall somewhere between. But when Boliver Trask manages to get the Sentinel program signed, it’s up to a thief and her brilliant sister to find those that still believe in something more - something good. And maybe, along the way, they’ll get the chance to save mutant kind.

Word Count: 1354 words

Warnings: Emotional breakdowns, cussing, that sorta thing

Masterlist to OCs - Masterlist to Other Works - Marvel Kiddos

Previous Chapter

Wakanda was a beautiful place not only in technology or its tribes, but in something so much better. It was beautiful because of its people. Amazing because they were accepting. And wonderous. And wholeheartedly…brilliant.

There was no one able to deny any of that.

And if they did? They would surely be called a liar.

At least, that’s what Wakanda’s newest guest had told its queen. Their guest – a young Cajun woman – had only been here a month. And yet she loved their world as if she had been born and raised within its borders.

Shuri, Queen of Wakanda and its Black Panther, carried herself as well as any king before her. But in moments like this, when she was allowed the opportunity to simply be, she found herself straying back to her old ways.

A small, impish skip was in her step. Beaming smile never wavering, she took the stairs as quickly as she could. Only to halt when she heard a crash downstairs.

The skip in her stride was long gone, replaced by a worry as she stumbled down the stairs. Along her way, she caught sight of two servants and asked, “What happened?”

“That’s what we were hoping to find out, my Queen.”

Shuri ran ahead of them, scrambling to a stop just outside the lab she had provided Marie. Inside was… She gulped, glancing back at the servants. “Leave us.” Turning her attention back to the lab, she slowly opened the door.

Everything was a mess.

Even her monitors, something Marie was always so careful with, were destroyed. Shards of glass and metal littered the floor. The bin was knocked over. Trash…everywhere. Shuri stepped gingerly, barely able to keep her nose from scrunching in disgust.

She looked up, gaze settling on the chair. Rather than being curled up on the floor, she was in her cocoon. “Miss Lebeau?”

Nothing. Not even a sniffle.

Shuri took a slow breath and crossed the room. The crunch of glass under her feet made her very aware that Marie was barefoot. She’d have to make sure the little hacker didn’t cut herself. “Marie.” She crouched in front of her, her hand curling around the armrest for support.

Bright eyes were fixated on her jeans, Her nails, bit down to the nub, were attempting to pick at her sleeves. Shuri expected to see tears, but nothing. Her cheeks were dry. But her lip was secured between her teeth and Shuri wouldn’t have been surprised if she had already made it bleed.

“Marie, what’s going on?”

Marie blinked, attempting to bring her fingers to her lips. Shuri caught her wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was meant to be comforting. A way to pull Marie out of whatever fog she was lost in.

And Shuri was relieved to see it work.

Green eyes looked to her, lost and broken. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her chest shook as she attempted to take a breath, looking around. “Breathe, Marie. In and out.” Shuri chuckled and pressed her thumb firmly against Marie’s wrist. “Slowly. It helps if you take your time.”

Marie pressed her head against the chair, looking towards the ceiling. She did as Shuri recommended. Slowly. In…and out…In…and out…

“There you go.” Shuri moved to stand. She sat on the edge of the desk as Marie dropped her legs. “Careful. There’s…” She gestured to the floor. “There’s a bit of glass.”

Marie grimaced, recalling her earlier incident. She tucked her knees into her chest, hood hiding most of her face. “Je suis desole, I’ll – “ She took a shaky breath and looked at the floor. “I’ll clean all that up.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She gently nudged the edge of the chair. “Want to talk about it?”

Silence.

She hesitated, worried about asking. However, she needed to cover all the bases. “Have you heard from her parents?”

Marie scoffed. It wasn’t at Shuri. No, it was at herself. She was so frustrated. Bitter and angry. “Non. Far as I know, they ain’t even speakin’.”

It was so stupid. The first couple months, the three of them had been determined. Working together in hopes of beating a corrupt government and finding one person. But sometimes the government, in all its cruel plans, worked better. It worked faster. And that “better”? That was the Sentinel Program.

She still remembered when the Sentinels went to the Thieves Guild. When they destroyed her home...

Marie dug her chin into her knee. A tremor ran up her spine. Goosebumps littered her skin. So many thieves had died that night and it wasn’t even because of Assassins. It wasn’t even because of a fight that they were a part of. She glanced at the wall, thumb tracing the edge of her jeans. “After N’Orleans, they decided t’go underground.” She sniffled. “Maybe tryin’ some methods a little messier than the Guilds. Not so safe, y’know?” She chocked on a pained laugh, shaking her head. “Fuck, don’t even know if they still toget’er.”

Shuri silently listened. She was patient. After all, most of what she knew regarding the mutant “issue” was what she had learned from her advisors. Mutants weren’t seen as a problem in Wakanda and they had been one of the few countries to turn down the Sentinel Program. And this? This was the most she had even heard Marie talk about her family.

Marie hated to admit why she was so frustrated. It had nothing to do with Remy or Rogue, though it felt like their lack of communication was killing her. It had nothing to do with them. What bothered her was, “I’ve been lookin’ for a year. A year and I’m no closer t’findin’ her.” She turned her head and finally met Shuri’s gaze. Now there were tears.

Shuri leaned forward and grabbed the chair, pulling it closer. Marie groaned softly and looked away. Her foot caught the edge of the desk, keeping some space between them. “You know, if you think about it, you’ve only been using Wakanda’s resources for a month.”

Marie snorted. “Technically t’ree months, five days, twenty-two minutes and…” She looked at her watch. “Guess countin’ is th’right term, oui?”

Shuri rolled her eyes.

Had she ever been that snarky with T’Challa?

Actually. It might be better not to think too much on that answer. “See? It hasn’t even been a month of using our resources. Patience isn’t easy, but I’m asking you to trust that we’ll find her. You will find her.”

A weak smile tugged at her lips, threatening to cheer her up. “So that’s why y’such a bon queen,” she teased.

Shuri’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Y’got that whole word-t’ing down.” Marie chuckled, hugging herself. “It’s what gets people t’listen. T’follow and believe…” She waved her hand, gesturing to nothing and yet something neither of them could see. “Whatever they need to.”

“Does that mean you believe me?”

Marie sighed. “Yeah.” She looked back at Shuri. “I do.”

“Good.” She offered a hand. “Come with me. I need to get you out of here long enough to get the room cleaned and your monitors replaced.”

She winced. “I really am sorry about that.”

Shuri shook her head. Attempting to clear a path for them, she led the way through the lab towards their exit. “Don’t be. I’ve made more than one mess from emotional outbursts. Normally they happen just before a breakthrough.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. Closing the door behind them, she tried to believe that was true. “Maybe.” No, she had to believe that was true. Not for Shuri or for herself, but for Geneva.

Geneva needed her to be strong. Hell, she knew for a fact that Geneva’s faith in her would never waver. She was infuriating like that.

She watched Shuri. The great and utterly brilliant Queen of Wakanda was helping her with such clear determination. If she could be that strong and not even know Geneva…If she could have that much faith in what they were doing… Maybe it was time for Marie to believe the same thing.

Or at the very least, it was time she tried.

A/N: I’m sorry it’s on the shorter side?

Permanent Tags:

@butcherofblackwater

#marvel au #xmen au #mutant ofc #marvel #mcu #xmen #mutant oc #xmen ofc #xmen oc #marvel oc #marvel ofc #geneva lebeau #marie lebeau #oc x canon #canon x oc #shuri #wakanda

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mwub · 5 years

Text

Hmmm, thought I had posted this but evidently I didn’t, it was supposed to be a multichapter but I couldn't figure out how to continue it.

Toward Tomorrow

”Hey Lucy, what do I look like?” Came to a playful snicker from Lucy’s now open window as a young man with vibrant spiked pink hair that seemed like it hadn’t met a hairbrush in weeks pulled himself into the windowsill. Although the guild liked to joke otherwise, Natsu was quite handsome, not classically like Gray or princely like Loke but he held a certain spark that drew one's eye.

“What do you mean?” Lucy absently hummed as she sorted through clothes, holding up a powder blue sweater with an inquisitive look before tossing the sweater to the side with a derisive shrug.

“I mean, what do I look like?” Natsu responded with a slightly impatient edge to his naturally husky voice. At his tone, Lucy glanced his way to take his appearance in. The sunlight seemed to dance on his hair in knots and waves, one moment a soothing salmon color the next a bright Sakura pink, almost as if it couldn’t decide what color it wanted to be and changes from moment to moment. Oddly enough it perfectly suited his tan skin and his sharp dark olive green eyes that often sparkled with mischief. The mischief that wasn’t absent now as Natsu rocked back on his heels in order to gain a more comfortable balance on the window, a bright fanged smirk gently pulling on his lips as he studied the blonde.

Lucy was supposed to be packing for the 100-year quest that Natsu claimed they were going on, they just were now awaiting Makarov’s permission to do so which they surely would receive. Of course, Lucy was taking forever to pack, choosing each outfit carefully despite knowing it probably wouldn’t matter anyway when it came down to a fight. Natsu thought she looked beautiful always, even though he wouldn’t say it aloud with her in earshot, the only one he had openly admitted his feelings to was Happy and he was tied and bound in secrecy under the threat of no fish for a month.

Lucy looked especially beautiful to him right now, a millennial pink knit sweater suited her pearly skin, bringing out a natural blush under her skin that’s not ordinarily seen unless you were looking for it. Her hair was tied back in a curled ponytail with a simple white ribbon and white ruffled skirt that ended mid-thigh accentuated her legs that seemed to go on for days before ending in a pair of delicate sandals. Natsu felt a warm glow of pride when he saw a pair of gold flash from Lucy’s ears as she bent to scrutinize a pair of dark jeans. A pair of red ruby eyes glared back at him in the form of two small dragon shaped dangly earrings, they were a gift for Lucy’s birthday a month before and it amused Natsu to no end to see her wear them so often.

Natsu knew he didn’t own Lucy, that he had no claim over her, she was her own person and couldn’t possibly ever be owned. But the fact that he had managed to give her a that she appreciated so much gave him a warm feeling in his heart.

Lucy quirked her eyebrow as she saw his eyes falter and glaze over slightly as he asked that question again, “Like the same Natsu I’ve always known, am I supposed to notice something different today,” Placing a hand on her hip, smoothing down her skirt, “did you get new clothes, cause most of them look the same to me.”

“No… nevermind,” Natsu grumbled, breaking his gaze before flopping forward onto his back, landing with a soft thud on Lucy’s pink comforter before grabbing her pillow and burying his face from view. “Just hurry up already, we are leaving in a few days, we don’t know when we’ll be back so you’ll need you’re more travel-ready clothes anyway. I don’t see why ya wanna pack those daggers you call heels.”

“I know that I still think we should go on one more job before we leave, the more rent money I give to my landlady ahead of time the longer I can help you guys finish whatever this quest is. It doesn’t have to be a big one, just another months worth of rent should be enough.” Lucy finished with a pleading look, her pink lip poking ever so slightly out in an adorable pout.

“...Alright fine, we’ll take that one job in Hakobe forest clearing out some were-rabbits. Shouldn’t be too dangerous as long as we catch them by surprise.” Natsu reluctantly agreed finally, “Pays 200,000 Jewel, that sound like enough to you, we’ll stay two days and be back in 4 days.”

“Thank you! You’re the best, a little extra cash never hurt anybody right?” Squealed the excited blonde as she rushed over and squeezed him into a tight hug, Natsu struggling to hide a slight blush as he was painfully aware of how soft her rather large bust was pressed against his own toned muscles. How she didn’t notice how tight her sweater was he didn’t know but he wasn’t gonna complain if it meant he got the occasional sneak peek that other the other guys in the guild drooled after. Just because he respected her as a person doesn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate her gorgeous looks and all its assets.

“I’ll be here tomorrow morning to pick you up and we can walk there.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WALK THERE, IT’LL TAKE TWICE AS LONG TO WALK THERE AND BACK!”

“Fine, walk there and train back, unless you want me to have my insides become outsides the entire trip.” Natsu quipped slyly, knowing he won by the way the girl in front of his eye twitched at the prospect of playing nurse the entire trip.

“Fine.”

~~~~~~

“You complain about wasted time and yet you insist we stop at a Hot Spring.”

“Give it a rest Natsu, it was a great deal, two nights and three days for the price of one and there’s a to die for Sauna along with a open bar.” The blond finished with a prideful smirk.

“It’s only a great deal cause they are closing it to be renovated soon and desperately need customers. Probably no one there except a few stragglers and old people” Natsu said dismissively, shuddering slightly at the thought of seeing old crotchety men fight over sauna rights.

Would there be unisex saunas and baths? I hope so, these types of things are better with Luce’s company anyway. Natsu thought, getting slightly excited at the idea of teasing Lucy again for being so embarrassed wearing such a small towel. She was so weird sometimes, at least Happy was staying with Wendy and Carla, the idea of Happy teasing Lucy into a rage was not a pleasing thought even if Happy was his best friend.

“We’re here”

Before them stood the Gin No Taki hot springs, a rather large old Edo-era style building several stories tall with gorgeous paned windows reflecting like mirrors silhouetted by overarching maple trees, their leaves beginning to shift color from green to red in some places, leaves rustling with the gentle breeze and the buzz of nearby cicadas harmonizing with the distant trickling sound of running water. It looked heavenly.

“Let’s go inside!” Lucy squeaked in excitement, grabbing Natsu’s hand and dragging him along in her wake.

After being greeted by the staff and selecting a room, being fitted into their respective yukatas, they finally settled down for a late lunch consisting of a wide variety of local fish and vegetarian delicacies. Not enough protein for Natsu’s taste but it would whatever it takes to keep the tank full.

After choosing a piece of grilled fish with a side of steamed rice and pickled plums, Natsu couldn’t help glancing at the woman beside him. His jaw slightly going slack at the vision before him, a almost shimmering periwinkle robe hugged her curves, accentuating every crevice. Clouds and cranes dances across the fabric, almost luring him into finding out where they lead, where the clouds and birds chase on the river's breeze adorning the blonds skin. Her hair was pinned into a loosely braided bun held together with a set of pins adorned with silver crescent moon and stars, her hair almost seemed to shimmer pure gold in the afternoon light.

Being caught in a daze Natsu didn't immediately catch what Lucy said until she repeated herself with a slight laugh.

“You look nice Natsu” She giggled, hiding her smile behind her hands in amusement, having noticed his ogling a moment before.

“Thanks” Replied Natsu stupidly, staring down at his own chest. His was a lot more barbaric than hers, black with fire breathing dragons spiraling across it, he felt a certain pride while wearing it as the mere decorations injected him a with a new boldness he didn’t know he needed before. Interesting.

“Have you checked out the saunas yet, I heard there's a communal one… if you want to join me? I-I mean you don’t have to, just don't want to be separated from my partner is all haha” Lucy finished nervously letting loose a shaky chuckle, unconsciously nudging the shoulder of her robe off, displaying more lush cleavage.

Gulping and trying to hide his own blush, Natsu replied as nonchalantly as possible so as to avoid suspicion, “ Yeah, I’ve seen it, we can go if you want, doesn’t really matter to me” Yes it does “ And probably shouldn’t be apart for too long in case something happens to ya”

“Y-Yeah, well, my back is feeling a little stiff carrying that backpack all day, let’s meet there in an hour, ‘kay?

“Fine”

~~~~~~

“You’ve got to be kidding me”

The sauna was packed with at least half the members of SaberTooth. Apparently, Sting had thought it would be a good idea to have a guild-wide excursion to this exact hot spring to celebrate a recent unspecified victory of theirs. Which meant there was almost no room in the damn sauna, not with everyone filling it to the brim. Lucy’s eyes searched over the crowd of heads spying a pink head conversing loudly with Sting.

Picking through the crowd, squeezing her way past a gossiping Minerva, Lucy finally made her way over to Natsu, only come to find out it was just as crowded. Natsu put the man in man-spreading, Mavis does he have no shame? Sting was no better, if not worse.

“Lucy, It’s been a while, how you been? Come sit with us” Called Sting, beckoning her over, oblivious to the seating situation.

“ Yeah come sit” Natsu joined in, ignoring her indignant sputtering; “ I was just telling him about that time we went Celestial spirits realm thing. It was wild man, even if they are so weird. I’ll never understand how Lucy deals with them.”

“Maybe cause they listen when I’m talking to them, if you haven’t noticed there’s nowhere for me to sit peabrain.” Lucy groaned in exasperation.

“Yes there is, right here” Natsu smirked, smacking his thigh, “If ya wanted a seat you should’ve just asked.”

“No way, I’ll just wait until someone moves”

“Suit yourself” Chirped Natsu, eyes glimmering with amusement at the flustered girl. “By the way, met someone on the way in here. Apparently, they had the same idea on going to a cheap hot spring”

“Aye sir!” Came a high pitched voice, “Carla said she wanted to take a bath, kinda weird for a cat to want that but whatever she wants I guess.”

A familiar blue cat came floating lazily into view only to stop to sit on the bench next to Natsu’s right leg, “You’re all sweaty Lushi”.

“Uh, that’s the point dummy.”

“NATSU, LUCY IS BEING MEAN AGAIN.”

“AM NOT!”

Natsu could only double over in laughter as his Nakama argued over what the point of a sauna was. That amusement only doubled as Lucy, who had not been paying attention to her surroundings, was bumped from behind and toppled over.

Well, almost toppled over, if it weren’t for the fact that Natsu caught her just in time, pulling her firmly into his lap between his spread legs. A rosy blush soon bloomed across the girls pretty cheeks in a heated flush, quickly becoming aware of the precariousness of the situation she has now found herself in.

Natsu’s warmed calloused hand spanned across her flat stomach, fingertips peeking just under her thin white towel and ever so slightly squeezing the underside of her full breasts under his firm grip, holding her close to him.

Heart racing at this sudden action, Lucy couldn’t help but glance at the man for only to find that he was now engaged in a rather one-sided conversation with Rogue, who seemed rather disinterested sauna as a whole.

Relaxing slightly, Lucy leaned back into his well-toned chest, feeling the ripple and flex of his pectorals and abs after each laugh, after each breath. Lucy took note of the water and steam collecting in the laugh lines of his face and dusted his hair like diamonds. He was exquisite, he was exotic, he was might she dare say enticing. He looked like a god.

Feeling a bit bolder, she pressed even firmer back against him, wiggling her butt to fit more snugly against his shoulder and lean her head on his collarbone. Only to stop when she felt him stiffen slightly at the motion and relax again.

Lip quirking slightly, Lucy repeated the motion again, a bit firmer this time. Making sure to push the softness of her rear to the apex of his thighs, daring him to respond. And he did.

Fingers tightened around her waist, slipping even farther under the fold of her towel. A low, rough growl rumbled from the chest next to her ear, exciting her, and challenging a deeper part of herself.

“What do you think you are doing”

~~~~~~~

If you guys think I should rewrite and continue the next 2 chapters let me know, I had written a second one but I didn't like how it turned out😅

#fairy tail #fairy tail 100 year quest #nalu #nalu fanfiction #i guess Tumblr ate the original #ft fanfiction #natsu dragneel #lucy heartifilla

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superfreakerz · 5 years

Photo

So, this is a request from @ccrispy asking me to write a story for my favorite artwork of hers! And lemme tell you, it was so hard to choose one because ccrispy is my fav artist on tumblr so I love literally everything she posts lmao. BUT! I have to say that this one is my favorite because it literally made me CRY seeing it the first time! So, without further ado, here it is! :D

Also, I really wanted to post a link to her post but I can’t find it on my laptop for some reason. So I’m sorry if the pictures are out of scale or something! I’ll try to add another link using mobile after I post this!

“So Long, Happy”

Rated K.

Summary: Saying goodbye hurts, especially when it’s to one of your closest friends.

So Long, Happy

All that could be heard were the muffled sobs as the three walked to their destination. Nobody said a word, their throats tight and constricted from all of their crying. Their steps were slow, as if trying to postpone the inevitable, which in truth they might have subconsciously doing. They wanted to turn around. They wanted to go home and laugh, tease each other, and continue their never-ending adventure.

But they couldn’t.

Not when Happy had a mission.

After the battle with Zeref and Acnologia, Lucy, Natsu, and Happy had found peace in their lives. They went on jobs together, messed up Lucy’s apartment together, and shared each day like it was their last. They had been through so much over the past couple of years, they very much needed the serenity.

Not long after, however, two strange people entered the guildhall. One was a girl with blonde hair, lighter than Lucy’s and not as golden. It fell in waves, a little bit past her shoulders. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of blue, similar to Mira’s. Next to her was a boy with black hair, not unlike Gray’s. His eyes were dark and slanted. There was a small bandage over his cheek.

Before anyone could speak, they both dropped to their knees and bowed.

“Please,” the girl spoke. Her voice was strained, cracking as if she had been crying recently. “We… We need your help.”

Everyone in the guild shared a look of concern. The one who spoke next was none other than Natsu, who had walked closer to the strange pair.

“Then you came to the right place!” he said, giving them a wide grin in hopes of lightening the mood. “Fairy Tail never backs down from a job!”

“What is it you need?” Erza chimed in.

“We need your help,” the strange girl answered, her gaze still glued to the floor. “Our world- or worlds, I should say- is in danger of destruction.”

“What do you mean by worlds? Who are you people?”

“My name is Rebecca, and this is Shiki. We come from a different planet in another dimension of space.”

“A different dimension of space?” Lucy repeated, her mouth opened wide. “Is this like Edolas again?”

“I don’t think so,” Makarov answered. “Edolas was another world, but it was connected to ours. If their world is in a different pocket of space, then it would be different entirely, is that correct?”

Rebecca nodded. “There are multiple universes. We come from the Sakura Cosmos. I know it may be hard to believe but-”

“After everything all of us have been through, there’s really not much that’s hard to believe,” Natsu interrupted, giving the girl a grin. “So, what do you need us to do? Head over there?”

“Well… it’s not that simple. We can only take one of you. Coming from different universes, our bodies are made up of different materials. Ours are made up of something called ether, while yours are made up of something foreign to us. In order to get here, one of our friends back home had to create these devices that are inserted into our bodies and converts our ether into what is known as magical power over here. The parts needed to make them are rare in our world, so he could only make enough to bring back one person.”

“Just one?” Lucy asked, a frown spreading over her face.

“Don’t worry, Lucy,” Natsu said, nudging the girl and flashing her a reassuring grin. “I’ll go. And I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Actually…” Rebecca started, biting her lower lip. “There’s a specific person that we came for.”

“Huh? Who is it?”

Rebecca glanced behind Natsu, pointing at the blue exceed behind him.

“We came for Happy.”

The cat’s eyes widened. Pointing at himself, he asked, “Me?”

“Yes. I used to have a companion like you,” Rebecca started, her voice cracking. Her eyes pricked with tears, but she blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time to cry. She had to save the world. “But, umm… He didn’t make it in our last battle.”

Lucy’s hands flew to her mouth. It was that bad over there? Sure, she’d had more than a few close calls with her friends, but she’d never had any of them actually die.

“You look and sound just like the Happy from my own world,” Rebecca said with a sad smile. “And in order to use my powers, I need Happy. We’re running low on fighters, I can’t be put on the sidelines now.”

“So Happy will help you use your powers?” Erza asked. “How?”

“Well, once we insert the conversion device into Happy, his body will have ether that is compatible with my own. He will be able to transform his body into my weapon. That is, if he chooses to come with us.”

Everyone turned towards the cat in question. He shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?” Happy said with a grin.

Shiki frowned, shaking his head. “You should take some time to think about it first.”

“Huh? Why? All I’m doing there is helping you win and then coming back, right?”

“It’s not that simple,” Rebecca said, her frown growing. “While having you around will help our efforts, it won’t change the tide of the battle overnight. It’s a long and dangerous journey. In fact… It could take up to years.”

“Years!?” Lucy repeated. “But… But Happy…”

Natsu’s eyes were wide, his stomach filled with dread. The thought of going without one of his best friends for so long made him sick. Happy had been there for him through everything. He was there to help look for Igneel, there when Igneel had died, and was there to help with Zeref. Happy was his partner in crime, his confidant.

Happy frowned, glancing up at Natsu. It was clear that the boy wasn’t processing the information well.

“I’m sorry,” Happy said, turning back towards Rebecca and Shiki. “I don’t think I can be away that long. This is my home, and all of my friends are here…”

Rebecca nodded, but she couldn’t fight the tears that slipped down her cheeks. Happy was her only hope, and while she understood completely, it was devasting to know that he wasn’t going to help.

“We understand,” Shiki said. “Thank you for hearing us out.” He picked Rebecca up from the floor and went to lead her out of the guild when Natsu spoke.

“Wait,” he said, swallowing thickly. He crouched in front of Happy, ruffling his fur. “Don’t worry about me, buddy.”

“But-!” the cat started, only to be interrupted.

“I’m not gonna force you to go or anything, but these people need your help. I’m not gonna selfishly keep you here either. We’re Fairy Tail wizards, we don’t give up on jobs that we accept, right?”

Happy nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “A-Aye…” Before he could get discouraged and change his mind, he turned back towards the two. “I’ll go with you.”

After that, they were given one last day to hang out together. Many tears were shed that night, knowing that it would be their last time seeing each other for a while. Still, they made the best they could out of it.

But now that the fateful day was upon them, their feet felt like bricks and sorrow was heavy in their hearts. As selfish as it was, they didn’t want to let Happy go. They wanted him to stay with the guild, laughing, eating fish, and trying to win Charle’s heart.

Reaching Hargeon, the place they were told to meet up with Rebecca and Shiki, their sorrow intensified. This was the place Natsu and Happy had met Lucy. It held wonderful memories for them, as it was the beginning of their adventure. Ironically, it was also the end of it as well.

Soon enough, they could make out Rebecca and Shiki standing by the pier. A large, metallic ship rested in the water behind them. It was clear it wasn’t an ordinary ship, but they didn’t care about that at the moment.

Reaching the pair, the trio started their goodbyes.

Lucy watched, her heart sinking in her chest as Natsu crouched beside Happy, scooping him into his arms in a tight hug, his hand cupping the back of the exceed’s head. Tears washed over his face and sunk into Happy’s fur. The two cried together, uncaring of who saw.

Lucy crouched beside them, poking the back of Happy’s head. Her eyes stung with tears and her throat was dry. She hadn’t been able to stop crying since yesterday. Still, she wanted to be strong for her friend.

Forcing a smile to her face, Lucy held her arms out in front of her. Happy choked back a sob, launching himself into her chest for a final hug. No longer able to hold it in any longer, Lucy broke down, her cries loud enough to gain the attention of people passing by. She wept and wept, expecting her tears to run out eventually, but they didn’t.

It seemed Happy wasn’t faring any better, his claws digging into her sides as he cried. How many times had they hugged like this before? It was too much to count.

Trying to regain control of herself, Lucy pulled away.

A shaky smile spread over her face. “Be good, okay? D-Don’t give these guys too much trouble.”

Happy nodded, burying his face into her chest again. They held onto each other for a few more minutes, but their time was short. Happy had to go soon, and Lucy knew that his next goodbye meant even more.

Gently carrying Happy, Lucy handed him to Natsu. Without saying a word, the boy held Happy close to his chest. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn’t speak. The words wouldn’t come to him and his throat felt like it was getting tighter by the second. He felt sick to his stomach, so sad that he thought he might throw up. The only other times he’d been this sad was when he saw Igneel die or when he thought Lucy had died.

Still, he needed to be optimistic. He knew Happy better than anyone, and if he continued to act like this, then Happy would change his mind. And even though a large part of Natsu wished he would, he knew that there were people that needed him. People were dying, even if he couldn’t see it happening with his own two eyes. The thought alone was to galvanize him to speak.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he started, his voice just above a whisper. It was hoarse, cracking under the pressure of his emotions. “I trust them.”

“A-Aye,” Happy replied, his voice muffled as his face was buried in Natsu’s scarf.

They stayed like that in silence, as if scared that their time together would end if one of them spoke. Knowing that their time together was coming to an end soon, Lucy hugged them both tightly.

“I love you, Happy,” she whispered, unable to speak any louder. “Be safe, got it? You make sure that you come back to us.”

“Aye,” Happy replied with a nod.

Natsu smoothed a hand over the cat’s head one more time before pulling away from the hug. He knew that he needed to be the one to act, for if he didn’t, nobody else would. He had to be strong.

“C'mon, buddy. It’s time for you to go. A new journey for you begins,” he said, wiping away his tears and smiling at his friend. His lips quivered, and the smile didn’t reach his eyes, but it was enough to reassure the cat that what he was doing was the right thing to do.

Shiki picked up Happy, admittedly feeling guilty for being the one to take him away from such a loving family. He loved making new friends, but doing it like this wasn’t satisfying. His heart broke for the three of them just watching them say goodbye.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him,” Rebecca told Lucy, a smile on her face in hopes of cheering the other girl up.

Lucy gave a wet smile in return, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sure of that.”

Natsu swallowed thickly, ruffling his hand through Happy’s fur one more time. This was it. This was goodbye.

“So long, Happy,” he choked out. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Aye,” the exceed replied with a nod. “Soon.”

With that, Rebecca, Shiki, and Happy headed towards the ship, ready to start their new adventure.

The weight of Natsu’s emotions at the sight of Happy’s retreating form brought him crashing to his knees and clutching his scarf for support. His breathing was staggered, unable to be calmed even as Lucy wrapped her arms around him. Together, the two cried, knowing that their lives weren’t going to be the same without Happy there with them. The three of them were the original Team Natsu. Until Happy returned, there was always going to be a hole in their hearts.

But they had faith in their friend. Happy was a strong cat, stronger than he looked. They knew that he would help Rebecca and Shiki, just as he had helped them. Then, he would return.

“H-Happy!” Natsu cried out.

Happy turned around to find Natsu being held in Lucy’s arms. The boy’s body trembled as he brought a shaky hand into the air. Pointing his index finger and thumb out, he gave the cat Fairy Tail’s signature salute. Lucy smiled through her tears, raising her hand and doing the same.

For the first time that day, Happy smiled back at them, finally feeling ready to follow through with his decision. Raising his paw in the air, he mirrored their form. With that, he boarded the ship with the others, not turning around again to check on them. He knew that they were distraught. He was too. But he was going to see them again, he’d make sure of it.

Because even if they couldn’t find where he was, they would always be looking his way, just as he would with them.

#fairy tail #nalu #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #ftfanficton #ccrispy #requests #slh #so long happy

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hypexion · 4 years

Text

Fanwalker’s Friends

Some of my fanwalkers are fleshed out enough to have friends or family. Or allies. Or conspiring forces acting somewhat in their favour.

Xand, of course, was in a gang. A small, five person gang, perhaps the minimum of a gang, but a gang none the less. While their days of reckless mischeif are over, they still find time between guild work for reckful mischeif, gossip, and some of that good wine from down in the Undercity.

The stand out member of this group is Vasilisa, a red skinned and black haired (snaked?) gorgon, who dresses more like a member of a biker gang than a member of the Cult of Rakdos. Lacking the standard petrifying gaze, Vasilisa instead has the ability to ignite anything she can see, which is as useful on the stage as it is on in a brawl. While not a permanent member of any Rakdos troupes, Vasilisa brings a certain fire to any show she appears in, and enables spectacles other performers could only dream of.

Off to the side, but always willing to have a conversation is Nikolai. This Golgari devkarin believes that everyone has a place where they’re at their best, and furthermore, that everyone should try to get there. He believes in the power of making connections, and always seems know the right person for a problem. Whether it’s naturally aged wine, tickets to an Ozhov party, or just a recommendation for a Rakdos show that won’t end in fatalities, Nikolai can get you what you need. And in return? Well, you see, he’s got a friend with a problem, and he’d like to make an introduction. Everyone benefits, and so everyone is happy.

The closest person to a voice of reason, at least until the fighting breaks out, is Katherine. She often gets a few second looks, since Vedalken usually aren’t members of the Boros Legion. While certainly an off-beat career choice, Katherine is good at it, and is a surprisingly decisive brawler, who is often the one putting people out of commission. While her martial abilities have gotten her so far in the Legion, her rank is effectively capped as long as she keeps associating with “dangerous and manic hooligans“. Which suits Katherine just fine - she’s never been one for paperwork, and if she advances any further, the higher ups are going to start asking her to actually do it before the cases go to trial.

Finally, there’s Skrza. This little demon has big ambitions, but for now he’s happy doing a series of satire shows, which look to jab a blade into the heart of Ravnica society. Metaphorically. In a fight, Skrza prefers to hit people with his marotte, which just happens to be covered in spikes. There’s never a time when he’s not being a menace to polite society, but he does it in a way that’s never quite illegal. Plenty of attempts have been made to crack down on Skrza’s unflattering routines on the guilds, but when you know a Boros captain, a devkarin with unusal connections, and an arsonally talented gorgon, you find ways to make a show pop up out of nowhere, and disappear just as quickly.

Occationally, Alagard seems to escape from situations in ways that are positively implausible. Or, more likely, fall into them in ways that one might call negatively implausible. These bouts of (mis)fortune are due to the attention of Xelia, Elder Faerie and self-crowned Queen of Fate. Not that anyone wishes to challenge her for the title, lest their ventures fail in increasingly unlikely ways.

Xelia can see the many ways the future might occur, like an endless tapestry unwinding before her. She knows how likely it is that any thread might become reality, and how she might bend and twist probabiliy so that outcomes she desires are the true future. Yet for all her foresight, Xelia is also fickle, willingly blinding herself to what might be in order to better enjoy what is. And unlike some who dabble in fate, Xelia relishes in the application of chaos, always trying to find the smallest change of fortune with the greatest ripples.

Yet in spite of all her abilities, one achievement eludes Xelia. No matter what she tries, it seems she cannot arrange for a planeswalker’s spark to ignite. There’s something about the moment of ignition that makes it an impossible needle to thread. Xelia can, to an extent, manipulate where on Orpheri a planeswalker might arrive, but this mostly involves nudging them towards or away from her realm. She’d be able to do more if she weren’t emitting a constant “No Skath” aura around her realm. Xelia doesn’t want the nagas to find out where she lives, for some reason. (You can ask why, provided you never want to gamble again.)

The actual relationship between Alagard and Xelia is... not great, with Alagard being perfectly happy to gripe about it in Xelia’s presence. Xelia finds this an amusing distraction, because you know, Fae are like that.

On Ithmorne, there’s a woman named Annabelle who has a nice, safe job in the Imperial Capital. She’s in a happy (and decidedly romantic) relationship with Galina, who occationally expresses aspects of her pre-trauma personality when they’re together. Anna worries that Galina is pushing herself a little too hard, and doesn’t always approve of her methods.

Locke’s ex is the bartender at one of the few decent bars in the city. But they’re both reasonable men, and the break up was mutual, so there’s not really any drama there. Sometimes, realationships don’t suddenly collapse for strange contrived reasons.

Velos is part of a family that’s a little infamous for guild-hopping. He’s got a cousin in the Azorius, an uncle in the Gruul, and quite a few relatives in the Selesyna, only a few of which had to be estranged. Family reunions are hectic, but thankfully tend to be free from guild-based violence.

To the surprise and concern of most people, Aster has a wife. Learning that she chose to marry him does not tend to alleviate these feelings. Especially since Aster recounts the meeting to marriage story in a way that’s more disturbing than romantic. Yet his “dear Eleador“ is one of the few people in the multiverse he actually cares about, proving that even someone you think is The Worst is actually not.

Eleador is fair skinned and silver haired, and seems to be serenely calm. Born under a particularly worrying celestial configuration, her father decided to do the irrational thing and severly limit her contact with unapproved people. Aster met her by chance anyway, because apparently keeping track of your potenially doom-bringing daughter was too difficult for her father. Eleador’s family claim that Aster corrupted their “sweet, pure child“, while Aster contends (correctly) that she was never as innocent as they believed, and had simply been kept from desiring anything enough to lash out.

Eleador’s family’s solution to her associating with a inappropriately star-signed man who brought her strange gifts was to marry her to a more suitable candidate. In their haste, they picked a date that was not a good day for weddings in general, and specifically a bad day for Eleador to get married. Given that Zodyas is a plane where astrology works, this was very foolish of them. In the end, Aster crashed the wedding, quite a few people died, including the would-be groom, most of the security, and Eleador’s father. Who was actually murdered by his daughter-in-law, which was quite unpredicted.

#fanwalker #magic the gathering #fan character february

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thewolfisawake · 4 years

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The Tales series if you haven't gotten it already

Favorite character:

Undeniably goes to Yuri and Velvet. What can I say? I’m into the dark-haired protagonists that ‘aren’t like the others.’ I can get onboard with why they come to the conclusions they do even if I don’t think it’s write. With Yuri, I admire the ability to do when others cannot. And can’t deny, he made me laugh the most with his sense of sarcasm and panache. Plus that voice...Troy Baker, they did you dirty. Meanwhile with Velvet I was like ‘yes, let’s be married in this quaint little town together’ in the beginning. She was just cute. Then it became attraction of ‘I don’t give a damn what happens to this world so long as I get what I want’ and ferocity.

Least Favorite character:

Emeraude. Like what the fuck is your problem lady? You’re getting jealous of a child. Your feelings towards someone should be directed towards that person, not abusing some third-party that doesn’t even understand what you two have going on.

Cumore. Fuck him too. For a side character that you don’t even really fight, he’s a real ass that his death was catharsis. Pure catharsis. There was no a single moment that he showed any redemption. He was a cruel bastard that held no regard for human life. He was willing to make excuses for anyone under him to get in trouble. He lied to people to enslave them and work them to death. He dragged people into the desert to look for an impossible item and left them without resources to die. Fuck him so much. He might’ve been cartoonishly evil compared to some not nice guys but those actions translate to atrocities.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

Selfish Coexistence (Basically the Berseria Party) - Their relationships seem so hard to define to me as they all use each other for various reasons. They also seem to develop care through their selfishness and all of the either are like *shrug* guess we’re doing this now or ‘what is this I’m feeling?’ ‘emotions?’ ‘disgusting.’ There’s an understood protection amongst all of them and then a fierce rationalization for their action rather than saying ‘because I like you okay!’ They’re very smart yet they’re all dumbasses and I love them all.

Ludju - You know what’s better than one adorkable dumbass? Two adorkable dumbasses. I like Ludger and Jude’s relation better than any I have unlocked during the story. Jude by nature is very caring but it just is different with Ludger? Main thing I can note is that Jude touches Ludger a lot. Like a firm, ‘I’m right here’ shoulder touch. A nudge in the arm. Catching when about to faint. And I just don’t see Jude do the same with anyone in his party in either game. I just find their interactions from the extra scenes are really cute.

Velvet/Niko - “If you were a boy, I think I’d be in love.” Gurl she don’t have to be a boy to kiss fall in love. Shipping a Main Character with an NPC? Is it madness? Absolutely. But I had feelings about that from the very beginning. Like this could’ve been so fucking sweet. Could’ve had it all. And then the Advent happened.

Alvin/Presa - Oh man. Ooooh man. This was just a curiosity on the way of Tale’s of Xillia’s path. Like it was a lady that lent to Alvin’s skeevy or ladykiller vibe he gave off. And it was like was she just a jilted one-time or something else? And the answer seemed like ‘something else’ but didn’t know what. It was a little ‘wonder how that went...’ Then you do Tales of Xillia 2 and I thought I was wrecked. Because it reframes so much of their interaction to a really sad relationship that fell apart because Alvin was a coward.

Flynn/Yuri/Judith - Haha! Didn’t expect the end part of this one did you? I think everyone knew I liked Fluri. Like their dynamics are so interesting. But I really do enjoy Judy being involved. I’m really sad that Judy and Flynn don’t get much interaction even in the PS3 version but I don’t find it hard for them to get along. But I do usually see that more times it’s Flynn and Judy dating Yuri and their relationship changes over time. They can scrap together, they can travel together, and not needing as much talking to get what anyone means. I find it hard to describe this one but I feel it.

Character I find most attractive:

Yuri and Velvet are like the reflexive thoughts. But I actually really also like Jude and Judy. I mean look at this cute little nerd, he’s adorable! And then there’s hot elf lady that she could kick me in the face and I’d thank her. In general you can probably guess my type from those four.

Character I would marry:

Probably Yuri. I’m sorry that this is my answer to so many but he is like my type to a T and it’s just ruined so many standards for me. Like a funny guy that is good at cooking (and has a sweet tooth!) and can go venturing with? What else is there? I mean yeah there’s the hair and voice but that’s like given. But yeah, I’m a basic bitch with that.

Character I would be best friends with:

Eizen, if that’s a bit surprising. Sure he’s a bit of an edgelord but I feel like I’ve never left it so he’s already doing better than I. But I like the idea of sailing on the ship with him there, probably not gonna be able to let me struggle for that long. He’s funny with a dry sense of humor to me and also he’s a low-key nerd that knows a lot of things and likes finding new and interesting things. So yeah.

And as much as I give shit about him, I actually think I would be friends with Sorey. He’s the kind of excitable that makes others excited and that’s kind of what I do. So we’d kind of excite each other. And so long as it’s not spelunking, I’m down for going exploring.

a random thought:

What defenses occur with the end of blastia? Barriers were what repelled monsters from most of the inhabited areas in Terca Lumireis. Dahngrest and Zaphias look to have fortresses that can hold back most land beasts. But there are other places. What stops the monsters now? Will they go towards more mana based works?

Also, someone also mentioned, does ANYONE know how to do medical work? Like actually patching up injuries? How to care for someone in sickness? Healing artes were what were used! They can’t use blastia anymore! What happens now?

Can there be a history of how things changed from Berseria to Zestiria? Mainly the shifting of how malevolence works from turning people to reflect their sinister nature to straight up monsters with no sense? How the Shepherd thing went to include the malak as much as it does. The change from malak to seraphim. Just...how did we geeeetttttt heeeerrreeeeee.

An unpopular opinion:

I fucking hate that I had to be told from other friends that actually could find the material or read the fucking wiki to understand the dynamics of the Kresnik family. Ludger has a LOT of fucking baggage that we don’t even get to hear anything about! Partially because he’s silent and partially because ‘oh he was young so he conveniently forgot?’ And a lot of it was important to the last half of the story! That’s bullshit! And even further bullshit is that there was no reason they couldn’t have found time to put it in the game but they chose not to.

Tales can’t make a fun last level to save their lives. I haven’t enjoyed a single final level in any of the games I’ve played. I don’t mind doing puzzles for it but straight up spiraling branches full of dead ends is frustrating. ESPECIALLY FUCK XILLIA 2′s! Randomly generated based off those in the party and then you can’t even see when a path is not truly there so you can follow the path and then all of suddenly blank ground, meaning dead end you have back up and retrace another path. And then like Berseria’s made me feel nauseous from the ‘ethereal’ look it was going for. And just made it hard as fuck to see. And more of this awful tower climbing. I just...mmmmmmm, I will probably always enjoy the game until the final level exists. I swear.

My Canon OTP:

Uuuuuuhhhhhh I don’t think I have one.

My Non-canon OTP:

Most protags x happiness?

Most Badass Character:

Don Whitehorse. He was like definition of like ‘stubborn old man’ but man was he cool. He was staunch in the honor of the guilds under his control and was proud of what he and other had built up with their own hands. Also you don’t often see a man willing to sacrifice his life to right a wrong done by his own.

Most Epic Villain:

Gaius. Like me and my friend were like ‘what the fuck’ when we were co-oping Xillia together. Like this was a king that meant business! Mhm. .

Pairing I am not a fan of:

Most of the pairings are fine to me.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

Sorey. I’m sure I’ve gone on this so many times but I really hated that they kept alluding to him having to make hard decisions but whenever one was brought to him, someone else took it for him. Like if his job is that important and it’s expected to make these choices, THEN LET HIM MAKE THEM. I was so angry over that. I spent the entire game waiting for when they’d do a major point where Sorey had no choice but to step up.

Favourite Friendship:

Alvin & Elize - I really like how much they have both grown from each other. And how when Alvin broke her trust that he had to live with her mistrust and work to earn it back. Their friendship had uneasiness that seemed hopeful at the end of the first game and turned to just banter and teasing by the second. Growth baby, it’s wonderful.

Character I most identify with:

Mmmmm, probably Ludger. Look at all that debt. Can’t do nothing but cry over it.

Character I wish I could be:

Yeah, no. JRPG rules means everyone has some fucked up shit in their past or coming for them. I’m fine over here.

#answered #wolfatrest #arcxnumvitae

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eryiss · 5 years

Text

Fraxus Week Day 7: Seasons

Summary: The walk to and from the guildhall had always been something that Freed had taken for granted. But now, dating Laxus and sharing that walk with him, he found himself enjoying the scenic pathways more than he could have expected.

This is my seventh and final admission for Fraxus Week event for twenty-nineteen hosted by the tumbler user @fuckyeahfraxus.This one is a fluffy as well, and acts a little bit like an anthology. It follows the 'Seasons' prompt.

You can read it on Fanfiction, Archive of our Own, or under the cut. I hope you all enjoy it!

Day 7: Walking Through the Year

Spring

Having never really been in a long-term relationship, Freed hadn't realised all the changes that would occur. He of course knew that different parts of his life would be affected when he started to date Laxus seriously, but he had mainly expected this to occur in larger ways. He had been shocked when he found out the small ways in which Laxus and his relationship would cause adjustments to his life.

Case and point, the walk to the guild.

Previously, walking to and from the guildhall had been nothing but a short journey. A nuisance, essentially. It could be seen as a scenic walk but, given the postcard-like design of Magnolia, that could be said about anywhere and the appeal wore of quickly. It was just a chore to bypass, so much so that Freed had gotten into the habit of teleporting to conserve time.

But now that Laxus and he were dating, and living together, the walk to the guild became somewhat romantic. A small moment of time that was shared between them and them alone. With how their lives were so busy, small moments where they could be together without any form of interruption were rare. So to have something so consistent – even if it was just a ten-minute walk between their house and the guildhall – was something that Freed was beginning to love. More than he thought would be possible.

The springtime was particularly nice in Magnolia. The trees coming into bloom, the sunlight glinting over the canals and making the water sparkle, and the brightness of the white builds came together to make an overall beautiful setting. It was something that he was only now appreciating.

All because of the blonde man beside him.

In the light, Laxus looked positively beautiful. His skin seems to glitter and shine in the same way that the water did in the sun, his calmed expression as he walked softening his features significantly, and the soft breeze that gently ruffled his clothes showed off his impressive physique in a subtle way. The blonde seemed as though he belonged in such a setting; as if the world around him was constructed to make him look as perfect as possible.

Freed also hadn't expected being in a relationship to make him so sentimental.

In years past, when he had been walking to the guild in the springtime, he hadn't bothered to take note of his surroundings. The walk had been a means to and end and he would have been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about what everything looked like. But now, with the picture completed by his boyfriend, he was practically awestruck.

As they approached a more populated area of Magnolia, Freed made sure to break the small trance that he seemed to have placed upon himself. As much as he wanted to admire Laxus as the wind ruffled his hair and he wore a content expression, he needed to pay attention to his surroundings.

"I really like this," Laxus said, seemingly at random.

"You like what?" Freed asked wearing a small frown as he looked towards his boyfriend.

"Spending time with you," Laxus shrugged slightly, wearing a small blush across his cheeks. It was a blush that, previously, he may have tried to hide from Freed. The rune mage was glad he didn't.

"I would hope so," Freed chuckled. "Dating would be a little awkward otherwise."

"You know what I mean," Laxus chuckled, nudging Freed on the side as they walked. "I always thought that, if I was gonna get serious with someone, it's be stressful. Like, I'd have to be aware of things kinda like when we're in a fight. Only instead of thinking about where the next attack is from, I'd be thinking about emotions and crap. Like, it'd be overwhelming. But being with you, it's pretty easy to do. It's nice."

Freed smiled at the confession. If he were honest, he too had had apprehensions to starting their relationship. They had been good friends and partners beforehand and adding a romantic element – which was something both men were unfamiliar with – might have been too much. But, even though their relationship was at its start, Freed had felt these doubts dissipate almost instantly.

"I feel the same way," He promised.

As they approached the canal that would lead them to the guildhall, Freed could see Laxus' smiling face illuminated by the sun but also slightly covered by the shade of the blooming trees. A small but open show of affection that was somehow private between the two of them. Much like the walks they were sharing.

Deciding to take a step closer to his boyfriend, Freed smiled slightly. They were now doubtlessly side by side, their knuckles grazing each other as their arms swung gently. Neither man showed any acknowledgement to the small action other than a shared smile.

This changed when Laxus, in a quick motion, took Freed's hand in his own and intertwined their fingers. To say that Freed was shocked by the action was an understatement, as the two had never held hands at all, let alone in public. They had decided to keep their blossoming romance to themselves while they found their feet, meaning nobody in the guild knew they were dating. So to have Laxus display such an obvious show of affection that only two men dating would do, and to do so when they were close enough to the guild where anyone could see them, meant quite a lot for their relationship.

It was like a promise. A sign that this wasn't something that was going to stop anytime soon, but instead was something that Laxus was taking seriously. It made the rune mage feel somewhat warm inside, and he gave a small squeeze of Laxus' hand to show how he was happy with the action.

"So," Laxus spoke softly, almost a whisper to Freed. "Pretty nice walk."

"Yes," Freed nodded, hyperaware of their interconnected hands and unable to fight back the small smile. "I'm starting to think so too."

"You didn't like it before?"

"It was missing something," Freed replied, squeezing Laxus' hands for a second time. The blonde made a small sound of acknowledgment to let Freed know he had understood what he had meant and continued to walk.

As they approached the guildhall, they were silent but content. They were enjoying the gentle sun on their faces, the breeze keeping them cool enough, the beautiful surroundings, and of course each other's company. Their hands never left each other, even as they crossed the threshold through the large wooden doors that would lead them into an inevitable barrage of questions from their guildmates.

Neither cared. The springtime did bring out the best in people.

-~~~-

Summer

Freed withheld a small chuckle as he watched Laxus sway slightly as he walked. It was late evening, the sun only just starting to set leaving a large orange tint across Magnolia. It was quiet beside the two men walking down the cobbled streets, who had just returned from a barbeque that had taken place at the guildhall as a celebration of some kind; they held so many parties that it was somewhat hard to remember what the lesser needed ones were for.

The two of them had had a good time. The food had been well cooked and delicious, the company had been well behaved enough for their antics to be charming rather than annoying, and the alcohol had been cold and limitless. Laxus was feeling the effects of the final point.

He was tipsy, to say the least.

As he walked, the blonde was uneven and occasionally stumbled across the uneven path. He scowled every time he did, taking a second to reassess where he was walking before starting again; he hadn't walked for over a minute without a trip of some kind since the two men left the guildhall. It was hard not to find it amusing.

"Are you sure you don't need any help, Laxus?" Freed asked as Laxus glared at the cobbles.

The blonde slowly looked up, closing his eyes for a second having seemingly moved his head too fast, and wore something resembling a pout. "No. It's fine."

He knew that Laxus would give in and ask for some kind of help eventually, but only when he wanted to, so Freed simply nodded and continued to walk. He made sure to keep an eye on the stumbling man, also dragging him to the side of the canal so he wouldn't fall in if he had a particularly nasty tumble that would bring him to the floor.

As he did this, the rune mage's mind wondered slightly, to his boyfriend in particular. To see him so openly in an inebriated – and possibly vulnerable state – state without seemingly caring about who saw him was endearing as hell. Compared to what the blonde was like in the past, Laxus' openness and seeming lack of ego, even in such a small way, showed just how far the blonde had come in his personal progression. It was hard not to smile as the blonde frowned, confused at his lack of stability.

Laxus seemingly noticed that Freed wasn't paying any attention to the situation, so slowly walked towards him; almost misjudging how far Freed was and walking into him. He wrapped an arm around Freed's shoulders and brought their heads close.

"You're fucking gorgeous," He slurred slightly in his words, but meant them. Freed laughed.

"I'm glad to hear it," The rune mage smiled. "And you're not bad looking yourself."

"Yeah I am," Laxus grinned wide. "But your all… like… elegant and shit. Like a fucking prince."

"Do I now?" Freed laughed a little again, "I think it's there we'll have to disagree.

Still grinning, Freed pushed Laxus' face away from his so he could look forward. As much as he liked his boyfriend, having his haphazard alcohol tainted breath hitting his senses every few seconds wasn't exactly enjoyable. Besides, the drunken blonde didn't seem to take it personally, as he was grinning.

"You don't believe me, huh?" Laxus' tone suggested he saw Freed's denial as a challenge. "So, if you ain't a prince of some kind, why's the sun setting?"

Freed couldn't fight back the frown that had formed at Laxus' words and looked towards the blonde with a question in his eyes. Laxus was looking into the sun as it set slowly, the golden light hitting both of their faces. The wide grin on Laxus' face was illuminated by the golden light, and the expression of gentle happiness made Freed feel warm. It was such a contrast with how he used to be, and Freed loved seeing it.

But his admiration of his boyfriend was cut short, as he remembered that somehow Laxus had created a connection between the sun setting and his appearance apparently being princely. The rune mage nudged Laxus to make sure he wasn't trapped in thoughts.

"It's bowing to you," Laxus explained, nodding to the sun. "Sun only sets because its got to bow to ya. Never used to do it before."

"Didn't it now?" Freed smiled, wondering just where Laxus' ramblings would go.

"No," Laxus shook his head, expression seemingly determined. "Older than you, remember? Spent three years and it was just always sunny. Night never happened then one day, on your birthday, the sun went down. Because you were born, and the sun needed to show its respect to the most princely prince of the world. Oh shit."

Seemingly remembering something, Laxus detracted his arm from around Freed's shoulders and took a step back. The rune mage watched with curiosity as Laxus made an overexaggerated movement that seemed to be a bow. The doubt laid in the fact that he couldn't seem to stand up straight on his own; Freed realised this after about thirty seconds when Laxus had remained at a right angle. He walked forward and started to help the other man up, smiling softly.

"Was that a smart thing to do when you're drunk," Freed chuckled, and Laxus refused to answer. The rune mage continued to speak after a few seconds of silence. "Are you trying to tell me that night didn't exist before I was born?"

"No," Laxus slightly elongated the word. "I'm trying to tell you that you're fucking amazing and that the sun is shit compared to you. Fucking sun."

Before Freed could reply – and he had intended to lecture Laxus about the importance of the 'fucking sun' – Laxus leant down and pressed their lips together. It wasn't the most elegant of kisses that they had shared, and Laxus' hands lingered in the middle of Freed's stomach more for balance than anything else. But still, even with the alcohol lingering on his breath, it was enjoyable.

After the kiss had lasted a little while, they pulled apart. Laxus was wearing a somewhat lovestruck expression that seemed a bit unfamiliar on his usually harsh features, but Freed smiled non the less and laughed.

"Come on," He whispered, looking at his boyfriend happily. "We should get home before the sun bows for me again and it gets dark."

"Yeah, I guess," Laxus nodded. They started to walk before Laxus spoke. "Also your hair's the same."

"What?"

"As the royal family. Your hairs the same colour," Laxus explained. "That's another reason why you look like a prince."

Freed just laughed, grabbed his boyfriend's hand and walked towards the retreating summer sun.

-~~~-

Autumn

"You shouldn't be out when you're like this."

Freed attempted to glare at Laxus after he spoke, but couldn't find the energy. The two men were walking towards the guildhall, the cold autumnal weather forcing them to wear their coats, as well as Freed wearing his scarf. He needed the heat more than Laxus, as the occasional sniffing or sneeze that came form the rune mage told Laxus that, despite Freed's denial, his sickness hadn't gotten any better than it had been the day before.

The blonde had managed to keep Freed at home for a few days while he recovered form his sickness, though the rune mage had been resistant for as long as he had been assigned to bedrest. Laxus had intended to keep the rune mage there until the worst of his illness had subsided, but Freed had other plans.

Laxus hadn't been impressed when he woke up to see Freed showered and dressed for work.

Still, the blonde knew that Freed could be as stubborn as anyone else in the guild and for him to have planned out waking up early without letting Laxus know meant he was serious. He would just have to keep an eye on Freed and make sure he wasn't going to overwork himself.

"I promised Lucy that I would help her translate something last week, it should've been done by now," Freed insisted, arms wrapped around himself. "She's been trying it on her own for weeks."

"Then she can wait a little while longer, surely?" Laxus retorted.

The rune mage didn't reply at that, as it was an annoyingly good point, and instead focused on walking to the guild. He had never been particularly good at being sick; it happened to him so rarely that he often overlooked the signs of oncoming illness and was hit by a cold or flu without expecting it. That, mixed with his somewhat overactive work ethic, meant that he would often refuse to admit a sickness was hitting him as much as it was, and he would try to carry on his life as if he wasn't affecting him at all.

He also had a habit of being a little stir crazy whenever he was forced inti bedrest this way. When he was injured, he understood it – resting a broken bone or pulled muscle was just the logical thing to do– but he had yet to be presented with a reason as to why lying in a bed would speed up the recovery of an illness.

Freed also refused to listen when Laxus reminded him of his insistence that Laxus rest when he was last sick.

The autumn wind seemed to go through him as they walked, and he clutched the lapel of his coat to bring it closer in a useless attempt to get himself any warmer. From the corner of his eye he could see Laxus looking at him with a slight expression of concern and tried to ignore it. His pride had been a contributing factor to him going to the guild before he recovered – as well as being bored – and admitting the cold was getting to him was too much. Laxus must have known this, as he sighed and looked forward.

They continued to walk forward, Freed keeping his eyes down slightly as if he looked towards the sun the migraine that he was fighting off would be reignited. This continued for a little moment before Freed felt something dropped gently over his shoulders. It was Laxus' coat.

"Laxus," He spoke, voice slightly hoarse. "You don't need to-"

"If you're gonna be an idiot and force yourself to work, I'm not gonna let you get any worse," Laxus shrugged. "But you're only keeping it if you promise not to overwork yourself."

"I won't," Freed nodded. "Thank you, Laxus."

"Don't worry about it," Laxus mumbled, smiling as he wrapped an arm around Freed's waist in a small act of intimacy. "Is this the kinda stubborn shit I've got to get used to with you?"

"You're acting like this side of me is news to you," Freed chuckled, resting his head against Laxus' shoulder. It was shockingly comfortable given the fact they were walking, and a thought struck Freed. "Assuming that you'll be forcing me back home the moment that I finish translating as much as I can-"

"Glad we're on the same page."

"Well, when we get home it'll be likely that I'll be mentally drained after focusing on a language I don't know for so long," Freed continued, and the tone in which he spoke suggested to Laxus that he was plotting something. "As you know, I typically like to read before I sleep as it helps relax me. With how exhausted I'll be, I might not be able to read for myself, and therefore if you want me to sleep then you will have to help me read for a little while. Would that at all be possible?"

"So you want me to read for you huh?" Laxus asked with a small chuckle, Freed nodding. "How about this. You promise me you won't push yourself too hard until you're feeling better, and the second we get home I'll brew you some tea and read you whatever you want."

"That's… agreeable," Freed nodded.

"Thought so," Laxus chuckled.

The blonde continued to keep his arm around Freed's waist as they walked, lazily attempting to kick at the dead leaves that populated the ground. The rune mage smiled, looking forward to having such a moment of domesticity with his boyfriend. In the past, he had been sick on his own, but he supposed that having someone to look after him while he was recovering could perhaps help the process become less intolerable.

He leant up slowly and pressed his lips against Laxus' cheek for a split second, a silent sign of appreciation for putting up with his somewhat bratty behaviour. Laxus smiled a little wider and squeezed Freed's hip in reply.

It was a small moment, and somewhat romantic. If not for the fact that Freed flicked his head to the side and was hacking out a collection of phlegm that had built up in his throat. Laxus laughed at him slightly as he patted his boyfriend's back. Freed appreciated the action as he finished coughing, and two thoughts filled his mind.

He loved Laxus. He hated autumn.

-~~~-

Winter

A flurry of runes shot up before Freed, a protective rune that seemingly melted the onslaught before they could hit Freed. The rune mage narrowed his eyes, looking through the purple lettering to spot his enemy before he could be hit by another surprise attack. His gaze was sharp and intense, the blood rushing through his veins keeping his adrenaline high and senses sharp.

"Fuck off," Laxus shouted. "Using your runes as a shield is cheating!"

"And why is that?" Freed asked, smirking as he leant down and scooped up a handful of snow. He patted it into a ball and waited for a reply.

"How am I meant to use lighting to stop you?" The blonde demanded, seemingly also creating a snowball in the moment of respite between them both.

"Learn a more practical type of magic," Freed suggested, smirking.

The snowball fight hadn't meant to be this intense. Laxus had initiated it on the walk home from their guild, Freed had been walking a little ahead and Laxus had claimed that he was going to tie his shoes. The rune mage had waited, absently watching the people cautiously walking over the frozen canals as a form of entertainment. Just as he felt himself relaxing in the cold of the Magnolian winter, the back of his head was hit by a compacted ball of snow.

When he turned around, he was met with a shit eating grin by his boyfriend.

His reaction was almost instantaneous. He shook the clumps of snow from his hair and was on his knees making a large snowball within a moment, seeing Laxus doing the same. He dodged the snowball aimed towards him and threw one towards Laxus, managing to hit him on his chest with enough force to shock the lightning mage for a moment.

That had been twenty minutes ago. Neither man had stopped since then.

Ducking behind a tree to stop another of Laxus' snowballs from hitting him, the rune mage grinned. Both men were showing the extents of their competitive nature were on full display, and both knew that the other wasn't going to give up until absolutely necessary.

"Why don't you come out and say that to my face, Justine," Laxus slightly taunted. "Unless you're scared to see me?"

He knew it was a manipulation. He knew this was Laxus trying to get him away from the tree so he could be vulnerable to whatever plot Laxus had created. But, despite being fully aware that this was Laxus' intention, Freed decided that there was no honour in hiding when he could confront his foe face on, and walked from behind his cover.

The snowball came instantly, almost hitting his face if his reflexes hadn't brought his hand up to protect himself. He smirked, dropping down again and forming two snowballs before Laxus could make one. He threw them towards the blonde with a grin; one hitting his chest while the other hit his shoulder. His grin faltered when he realised that Laxus had thrown one at the same time he had, hitting him on the chin.

Both men, now without ammunition, stood across from each other. They both panted slightly, looking at each other during the stalemate that had appeared before them both. Neither was willing to give up yet.

"Looking a little tired, Laxus," Freed taunted. "We can stop if you want, I know what snow does to old men like you."

"Oh you little bastard," Laxus said, talking a step forward. "You're going to regret saying that."

"And you're going to regret coming outside when your knees give up on you."

With that, it seemed as though Freed had signed his own fate. Laxus pounced forward, leaning down so he could pick up a large pile of snow from the ground before standing upright again. He went to launch himself towards Freed to make good use of the snow he had picked up but was met with a snowball to the nose when he was upright again.

Even when covered in snow, he could see that Laxus' jaw had clenched at the most recent hit. Freed smirked, crossing his arms in slight curiosity as Laxus slammed the snow he had picked up onto the ground and looked at Freed with steely determination. He clearly had a plan.

He showed what it was a moment later.

Pouncing forward with the speed of an animal, Laxus wrapped his arms around Freed's waist in a tackle and brought them both to the ground. Freed's back was pressed against snow covered grass, sending a shiver down his spine as he became used to the sudden change in temperature. Laxus had placed a hand on his chest, keeping the rune mage down as he picked up a handful of loose snow and held it over his face.

"You wanna apologise for the old man comments?" Laxus raised an eyebrow in question.

"How d'you know I haven't?" Freed countered despite his position. "It's not unheard of that your hearing can be unreliable when you enter your twilight years."

The handful of snow was forced into Freed's, haphazardly smothered across his features. He was overtaken by a flurry of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. Having Laxus smearing snow across his face after a playful yet competitive snowball fight wasn't exactly what he had thought would happen nearly a year into his relationship with the blonde. He couldn't deny that it was a good thing, as it was truly fun to have such a ridiculous interaction with his boyfriend.

But still, he couldn't be outdone. So he grabbed an equally large clump of fresh snow and slammed it into Laxus' face, pushing the blonde off him so they were lying side by side in the snow, both laughing.

"You got it in my eye, asshole," Laxus laughed, wiping his eyes and looking to his boyfriend.

"I swallowed some myself, if it's any consolation," Freed grinned.

"Did I?" Laxus smiled, cocking an eyebrow. "Sorry, didn't mean to."

"It's fine," Freed smiled back, reaching across and cupping Laxus' cheek. "You look good covered in snow."

"So do you," Laxus smiled. "Like a prince."

"You really do like that comparison, don't you," Freed chuckled, stroking a finger up and down Laxus' cheek. "Well, if I am to be a prince, perhaps you could be the handsome stable hand with whom I shall have my affair."

Laxus grinned. "Yeah, think I can do that."

Both men laughed at what had become something of an inside joke between them both. They remained lying in the snow for a little while, and Freed let his mind wonder to the walks they had shared to and from the guild throughout the year. They had each been small, understated moments of romance that he had grown to love that had taken over the four seasons.

It had been perfect.

#fraxus week #fraxusweek #fraxus #freed justine #Laxus Dreyar #one shot #fairy tail #fanfic

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curuniel · 4 years

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For @skullsunflowerstars: Kessex Hills - an illusion they had shattered at some point in their life (prompts here)

I was given the choice of rolling a die or choosing for these, and in this case I’m going to choose because there’s an obvious candidate that I haven’t really introduced here: Jura Ogawe, Elonan firebrand guardian.

Jura grew up in Vabbi under the Immortal King Joko. That means he grew up with all Joko’s false histories, revisionism and propaganda all around him, and also Awakened all over the place. While he’s not noble-born his family were reasonably well off, and Vabbi was a prosperous part of the kingdom benefiting from Awakened labour and protection to make its living citizens’ lives easier (the days of Joko conquering Vabbi through cruel force by redirecting the Elon River were long gone by the time he was born).

As a child Jura believed Joko’s party line. His parents were actually seditious, something he was aware of and always struggled to reconcile with his more conventional Vabbian beliefs - they were members of a cult of Grenth that persisted in secret in Joko’s Vabbi, teaching that Awakening was a perversion of the course of death and Joko a tyrant and a liar who should be resisted.

Despite that, they didn’t want to put their son in danger. Rather than teach him their ways they tried to just gently nudge him towards thinking critically, but let him be educated by the establishment through his childhood. They figured that as he got older they would introduce him to more, when he could make his own decisions and protect himself from the consequences of standing against Joko, even in private. A child would not know to watch his words as carefully as he would need to.

This didn’t start to change until Jura’s parents were betrayed by someone - he never found out who. Awakened soldiers came for them and dragged them away, and he never saw them again. Jura himself was brought in for questioning, briefly by one of the Mordant Crescent, but thanks to his parents’ caution he could quite honestly insist on his innocence and knew no information about his parents’ cult or contacts. They let him go, but it was a turning point. Seeing how the kingdom dealt with his parents (who were otherwise kind, responsible people and well liked by their community) made him begin to question. The more he investigated and read, the more he began to see - and dread - that what Joko taught was lies. And if the history of his own nation was lies, what else had Joko lied about? Jura began digging out more obscure sources of information, including the sort of old hermits who everyone knew existed here and there living outside the kinddom’s society for whatever reason and might remember older stories. He got mad, and wished he’d listened to his parents more, and thought about the world outside Vabbi that it turned out he knew nothing about.

When the arrival of Balthazar and his forces along with King Joko’s notable absence threw Vabbi into chaos, it was the push Jura needed to get out of Joko’s kingdom. Taking the hard road from Vabbi through to the riverlands, having to climb and sneak through the parts of the Desolation tolerable for human life, he eventually joined exiles and refugees travelling into Amnoon. The journey took a long time and by the time he reached the Free City he was a bit older and wiser, a lot tougher, and considerably more jaded. Still, life in Amnoon suits him well as he can help other refugees and exiles and use his ability in a fight to protect people. It’s while taking odd jobs to keep himself fed that Jura crosses paths with the Brazen Rose guild and gets recruited by Suri to help with operations in Elona.

#my characters #Guild Wars 2 #gw2 #Elona #I would like the chance to rp this guy

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kiliinstinct · 5 years

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His Sun and Stars

Companion Piece to @caandleworks “Like The Sun.” Written after gaining her permission.

The thoughts and memories of Jude Heartfilia. Enjoy!

TAG LIST:

@pbfanart @cobblepottantrum @yuldragneel @bearpluscat @millennial-star-gazer @kaycha1989 @furidojasutin @eragonsoul @just-another-dream-girl @whatdidyasayiamdaydreaming @fluffygrandina @mysticalpolicetyrant @dlshieldss @ctay21 @lovelyluce

An old, worn photograph was held gently between weary hands. Jude Heartfilia, hunched over his desk, paperwork piled high, stared at the image with a softness most would not believe possible in the man. It flicked like a candle- seeming to almost fade away before sparking back again. It was a photo he kept with him at all times, no matter how deep into his work he grew.

Acalypha had barely changed since he had originally worked there as a young boy, head full of hopes and dreams of owning his own trade business. Once upon a time, he never assumed he’d be the current Patriarch of the Heartfilia family, the one called to hold its business and noble lineage afloat at all costs.

Or the fact he’d have to do it alone. Eyes closing, blinking back exhaustion, the image never left his mind- etched into his memory before becoming blurry when he opened his lids again. It was an old photo, but also his favorite. It held a memory inside it of a time when he was happy and in love, with all things he could have ever hoped for in life.

The first day Jude met Layla Heartfilia was the day he began to believe the Sun walked on Earth. And that belief shone in the photo as the image of himself, stood tall and straight, smile wide beneath the brim of his mustache while one arm wrapped around the shoulders of the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

Her golden tresses framed a kind, sweet face and he remembered their first meeting with ease. Why a woman of such high breeding had chose to work at a Merchant Guild had been lost on the young Entrepreneur at the time, but he certainly didn’t question it. Not at first. Sharing the same room as her had been akin to drinking in sunlight, constantly being invigorated each time she graced him with her smile.

Even then, he had gravitated around Layla, helpless to ignore her magnetic pull. Once upon a time, many claimed his interest had been only for her money and noble name. As time passed, he eventually chose to let the gossip be- they knew the truth and that was what mattered.

“I have to know and understand trade,” She had told him one day while the two of them crunched numbers for the guild and tallied inventory together. “And while my family wished for me to learn at a Private Academy, I chose here.”

Thank the gods for that, he had thought to himself, face heating up at the mere thoughts he couldn’t place into words. Not just yet. “Not that I’m complaining, but why here?”

“- that’s because…” A sigh followed, brown eyes hollowing out to something almost empty before filling up with an inner peace he hadn’t felt before. Lips curved into to the softest of smiles and she brush a stray hair behind her ear. “How can I ever understand the hard work others do if I hide behind my riches? I want to see the world how others view it, to understand what people truly want and need.”

Something in the way she said it, the way her decision, so thoroughly cemented into her heart, made his own swell up. She was perfect. A wealthy woman who understood that those who worked for the Rich often held different, hardier lives.

Then she nudged him with a gentle shove, eyes gleaming in mischief. “I met you. Isn’t that proof enough my decision was the right one?”

He had choked on his own tongue and stammered like a shy school boy for the next fifteen minutes, face and neck burning hot even as her laughter boiled heat into his stomach. A happy, fulfilled, exhilarated feel. It positively invigorated him.

“The Heartfilia fortune cannot be left in the hands of some no-account man. How could we agree to such a union? The answer is no!”

The day he had offered to court her was the day his motivation and hopes were shot down from the sky. A man raised with nothing to his name- trained under the apprenticeship of another merchant, but still building his own work. How could he ever be good enough for a woman such as her? The cold taunts had frozen the heat of his soul and for days, Jude had grown cold and desolate.

A building friendship, but he was not allowed to have more? To hope to hold her hand in his? To feel the warmth of her smile for the rest of his life?

“Actually- I think he’s PERFECT.” - but then, light broke through the storm clouds of his mind as this kind, beautiful woman, stared down her own parents, hands shaking in tightened fists. The look she gave them was one of defiance: her decision made and unwilling to back down from it.

“So what if he has no name?” She had asked them, “He knows more of business than many Nobles do. He understands hard work and has never faltered from doing it. He can KEEP us afloat and make us SOAR- and you would deny me happiness because he has no name? I would rather stay in Acalypha and never return if that’s your true answer!”

A threat she had meant- keys jingling on her hip, just over the bustle of her skirts. This woman, was willing to fight her way through her own home just for him. And what was he doing? Succumbing to the wishes of her parents? The stunned looks of the Heartfilia Matriarch became all the more dubious when strength surged through his being and he stood, boldly reaching to take her hand- eyes narrowing.

“I’ll prove it.” He told them. Voice firm, strengthened by the courage Layla held to with every breath in her being. “I will NOT shame the Heartfilia house- I will bring it HIGHER. Give me- us, the chance.”

The curl of her fingers against his own was the only answer he needed. They would be together: even if they had to defy all sense and reason.

Her family finally relented, but only with little give. Jude’s intense work towards proving his words began that day. He tirelessly worked to increase stock and sales in the Heartfilia name. He pushed for trades and stock between other merchant’s and company’s until the wealth, not even under his own name, doubled. All for just the chance to live under the light of his sun until his lungs stopped breathing and his body gave in.

He didn’t even mind taking the last name Heartfilia when he finally witnessed her walk down that marble aisle, gorgeous and glowing in her own happiness. Life, fas far as he knew it, had become his perfect dream. Throat constricting from the memories- the older man set the photo down, blinking back misty tears he refused to shed.

Lucy didn’t even witness his tears at the funeral. He had been numb, too frozen, to have let a single drop fall from his eyes. It was much easier to succumb to his emotions now. The woman he had loved, worked so hard to keep, had dwindled before his very eyes, with each passing breath and year and she had known it would happen too. All the while, no amount of money, work of passion could save her.

Jude Heartfilia had basked in the sun, only to have it eclipsed and taken from his very hands. Work had become the only distraction, the only way he could withdraw into himself and hide away from the pain. A cough escaped him, wracking his tired, broad shoulders as he hacked into his hands- ignoring the slight taste of iron that came into his mouth.

Once upon a time, he hadn’t regretted a single decision in his life, now… regrets filled him like an empty bucket, crying for something asides from ice to fill the gaping bottom.

To uphold the family name- … it had been his original goal… and he had clung to it with such blind determination that it had shielded his thoughts from all other emotions and logic. A matching, smiling face in the photo of a young girls smle that matched the sunlight, filled his heart with a guilt he almost couldn’t bare.

In his grief over the sun, he had cast away his stars.

“Perhaps… she truly would forgive me…” He murmured into the quiet of his office, rifling through parchment paper until he found an empty one, shaking hand already moving to fetch his quil. Lucy had been a light he had almost snuffed out in all attempts to run from the loss he had suffered. If not for her return after his hiring of Phantom Lord, he may have continued to dwell within that darkness.

Those stars in her eyes… the determination to defy him despite all odds, the firm decision in her eyes…. So like Layla… so much like her mother, and yet a mix that as all her own. It had been a healing balm he hadn’t known he needed and failed to recognize until everything he had striven for, the Konzern, had slipped from his very fingers. He had held on for so long, just to lose it all in the end.

‘Dear Lucy,’

‘Happy Birthday, Daughter….’

His eyes glanced towards the Calendar, almost covered in all his paperwork and a sad, soft smile, eased at his hard features. Lucy wasn’t home yet. That he knew. The papers all claimed she and her friends were dead- but he refused to believe it. Jude had made the mistake of casting out his stars the moment his Sun had left the world, but he would not make it again.

There were far too many stars in the sky to be forgotten so easily. Pen flew elegantly across the paper, his wishes and hopes coming through with each word written. Jude had never felt closer to Layla in that moment, lungs rattling as another cough vibrated through him. If she was the sun and Lucy the stars… than he was the moon, constantly in awe of them.

Lucy would return and continue to shine her brightness over the world… and even if he did not make it that day- he would be proud. His fulfillment finally earned as he finally made it back to the warm embrace he had missed for so long.

She would live on- and he would finally be, once more, with his Sun.

#Fairy Tail Fanfiction #fairy tail drabb #Jude x Layla #Lucy #Mira's Fanfiction #was supposed to be shorter than this #oops #no read more #because its not extremely long #and i couldn't find a could break off point for it

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drabbleitout · 5 years

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Chapter 3: A Woman Scorned

(Beginning | Previous)

Myghal was gone and if not for the clawing anxiety in Ira's skull, it would have been nice.

No one around but Berma. The quiet of the wooded trail, only songbirds and the occasional rustle of a squirrel in leaf litter. But as soon as Myghal was out of eyesight, the curse curled itself up tight taking up as much space in the confines of Ira’s mind.

Ira nudged Berma on down the trail, Nepi towed behind. He could sense Myghal like a strong magnet. He was moving down the wooded hill at a crawl. Since leaving Felmire, he hadn’t stopped offering to hunt for a meal. Ira had no issue with their dried apples and bread, but Myghal insisted on something “real to eat”. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t Myghal. He got distracted by anything and everything. Clouds. Animals. Plants. If he noticed something new, they had to stop, and wait, and watch.

It drove Ira mad.

While traveling alone, Ira rode as long as Berma was comfortable. Rain, sun, or snow, Ira kept moving. If it weren't for him at the lead, he doubted they would get very far. He claimed driving the horses the way they did to Felmire earned them a leisure pace. He wanted to take his time, to explore, to see everything there was to see. Ira tried, he could say that in earnest. He did try to move them along but he found was Myghal was stubborn, and Ira had no choice but to wait.

The anxiety waned as Myghal emerged from the brush holding a hare above his head in victory.

A quick meal later and Ira had them back on the road.

“So, the Cinders,” Myghal spoke up, “they’re the guild –who’s after you?”

“Part of it.” Ira hadn’t been bothered with Myghal’s questions because most of them weren’t about him personally, but about cities, villages, and more general areas. This one felt like a glancing blow.

“And they’re after you because…?” He passed Myghal a warning glance. “You told me you’d tell me, back in Felmire.” He thumbed behind them. “Let me guess, you’re just another dishonest thief?”

“It was competition. There, happy?”

“Come on, Ira. Can’t you tell me something about you? I’m the one dropping what I’m doing to help you along on your little quest.” Ira decided not to bite on that hook.

“That’s what it was. I was the best hand in the guild and that caught attention. Bad thieves are hungry thieves, and their jealousy turns to hate. So, they threw me out.”

“Thieves threw you out?” Myghal laughed in bewilderment.

“Well, they tried killing me. Same thing.” Ira tossed his shoulders, “it’s really not so different from living with the Northmen. Just a different kind of barbarian, right? You fight for survival. You can’t trust anyone—”

“You trust Darts.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” he almost stripped his blade for good measure, but the look on Myghal’s face told him he caught the hint. He pulled on his hood and the rest of the night was silent.

The next morning they were moving before the sun rose. It was drizzling, foggy and damp making it hard to recognize certain trees he was looking for. Ira didn’t make it a habit to visit a victim more than once, and certainly not some hut in the woods. The first time it had given him chills, and a second? He almost rather the Imperial keep.

“We go the rest of the way on foot,” he stopped them at a short, thick-based tree. He knew it by it’s twisting limbs, looking as if they had been braided like rope. “Don’t make a sound, don’t stop, just follow me.” He kept Berma’s lead short, stepping off the path and into the forest. The sun was giving light and color to the world now. Fog remained low on the ground, creeping around their footfalls and cascading between trees.

It didn’t take long for that feeling to come back. A sensation of something dreadful, something otherworldly that he knew at his core he would never understand, or want to. His palms grew cold, magic aching as if pressed against ice. It knew it was close. It was home.

They came across a dog sized rock and Ira stopped, tying Berma to a tree and signaling to Myghal to do the same. He skewed his brow but didn’t ask questions. By habit, Ira took the silent path. He couldn’t help but feel like these were the same steps he took before. Around sticks and fallen cones, weight on the balls of his feet keeping to moss and protruding stones when he could.

The short, wide hut emerged against shadowed trunks, made of lumber and long, slatted shingles. Ira crouched near the edge of the clearing, searching for movement in the windows. Myghal eased up beside him, taking a knee. Ira turned to him, pointing at him with a finger before diving it into his other palm.

Myghal shook his head.

He pointed at himself, using two fingers to mimic walking towards the door. And then he stood up and strolled off. Ira leapt up, darting around in front to shove against his shoulders. He didn’t budge. “I’m going to talk to her,” Myghal hissed, “You’re not the only one who wants answers.”

“You’re just going to walk up to her?”

“What’s your plan? Break in again? Do you really think that’s a good idea a second time?”

“What is she going to do, curse me again?”

"If you're trying to get her to remove the curse that's not a good idea." Ira didn't care. Either she was going to get rid of it or give him some answers. Myghal pushed past him, walked up the steps and reached for the door.

"What are you doing?" Ira yanked on the back of his shirt, almost getting him to lose his balance.

"It's called manners." Myghal turned to knock his hand away, "This is how most people use a door. You knock and you wait, and if someone's home they come to the door." In horror he knocked against the gate and Ira felt his stomach crawl for his throat.

The knob turned, hinges creaking as the gate was pulled open. Ira tensed, glaring at the short, hunched woman who appeared against firelight. She was stout, all of her silver hair combed to one side, wrinkled eyes shut. Fearlessly she stood there, face lifting as a wide smile pulled across her lips.

"Thief, you've learned how to use the door." Ira glared at her hoping she could sense it, "Come in, come in before you catch something in this chill." She waved over a shoulder as she turned. Ira passed Myghal his glare needing someone to see it.

Entering Ira looked around the small house, round, one level and one room. The kitchen was at the back, cauldron hanging over a low fire steaming up into the chimney. There was a bed on one wall, the other holding a desk with a number of jars and dry goods. Nothing had changed since he was last here.

"I have soup cooking." She shuffled over to the pot, patting the wall for the ladle hanging there.

"We aren't here to eat." Ira announced.

"Well, I have nothing else to steal," she laughed, "so what brings you back?" Ira looked around, from the desk up to the hanging dried plants.

"I did what the curse wanted. I found him so now what am I supposed to do?" She stirred at the soup, making a deep sound of indifference with a shrug of her shoulders. "You don't know?" Ira couldn't help his voice getting loud, "you put a curse on me and you don't know how to fix it?"

"There are different kinds of curses, none two alike. I don't know what the curse wants."

"You just used it on me." Ira snarled, stilling as Myghal placed a hand on his shoulder. "Why did you curse me?"

"Everything comes with a price, even for a thief." She turned from the pot, face impassive, "the curse is to teach you a lesson. So, what have you learned?"

"That you're useless." He growled. She only laughed.

"I wasn't so useless when you came for that magic, was I? Have you made good use of it in the past year, thief?"

"I have a name."

"I know that you do. I only want to remind you of what you are, considering you tend to forget."

"Don't speak as if you're familiar to me." Myghal squeezed his shoulder, "you have to know what I need to break the curse. You gave it to me, you can take it away."

"To do that, return what was taken."

"Then tell me why he's here? Why do I need him?" Ira threw his shoulder as if to signal to Myghal, but it was mostly to remove his hand. She took her time ladling the pale soup into two bowls, infuriatingly slow as she carried them over. One she handed to Ira, ignoring him as she turned to Myghal.

"Ah, well, it's good to meet you," she paused, searching for a name.

"Myghal."

"Myghal," she repeated, smiling as she placed the bowl in his hands. "You have a good heart, a good soul. I'm sorry that you've been caught up in all of this."

"So you'll apologize to him?"

"He's the innocent party here," she snapped at Ira. "He didn't steal ancient magic from a defenseless, blind woman."

"Defenseless," Ira scoffed. "Don't pretend you didn't nearly kill me in the process."

"It's a curse, don't be a baby about it." She swatted Ira's shoulder, turning to retrieve her bowl from the counter. "Sit down and rest. You've drug Myghal half way across the country. No telling what he's had to deal with, with you."

"I like her," Myghal chuckled.

"Sit, sit, rest out from the cold for a moment." She motioned them towards the pelt rug before the fire. Myghal didn't even hesitate. He strolled over, sat stretching his legs with a hum. Ira remained rooted. "So, let's hear it, thief. What have you learned?"

"Do you want me to say not to steal from old ladies?"

"Would you mean it?" She chuckled and shook her head as if knowing the answer. "You wanted that magic more than anything."

"I've heard it's the only thing that can stand against the Emperor."

"Ah, you're correct. Where did you hear such a thing?"

"I spent a lot of time with others who feel the same about the Emperor. Information spreads like a plague." Mirth worked over the fire, silent besides the occasional humming.

"You're the Rook, escaped from Dungaree, are you?" She poured herself a bowl of soup. Ira could feel Myghal watching.

"Dungaree is filled with those the Emperor wants to silence. It's more civilians than criminals and killers." He idly stirred at his bowl, "Its’ where he stores his secrets he doesn’t want the masses to know about."

"They must be sore you're missing," Mirth lost her playful tone, quiet and almost saddened now.

"What? Disappointed it wasn't some prince charming who came to take your magic? Someone to save the world? Instead, you got a guttersnipe."

"I would expect a prince would have a very hard time using The Foul." She turned and he was sure even the fire went silent, "That magic takes something dark to control, to barter with. But even you, Rook, must be careful opening up to it. Without balance, without control, it can decompose you." Ira snorted, drifting over to the desk to sit on its edge.

"So, the Emperor, he can send whoever he wants to prison?" Myghal sat his bowl down, turning to them with sunken brow.

"The Emperor is loved by most, He has a devoted following among the Empire, and not by force." Mirth shuffled to the desk, fingers running across the designs of notches carved into each container. "If you wish to end him, Rook, you will need more than The Foul."

"Would another curse help?"

"No, but I can give you another if you like. You have your magic, your destruction, and to balance such darkness you will need wisdom."

"Well, that doesn't explain the curse." Ira glanced at Myghal finding a glare. "Are you saying you want in?"

"I'm already helping you. You have my magic, but I appreciate your compliment." She chuckled to herself, an infuriating sound. Shooing him off the desk she opened a drawer for what looked to be a dried rat foot. "You will need the eye of a dragon."

"A dragon?" Myghal amazed him with how confused he sounded. "What's a dragon?" Ira cursed to himself as he strolled towards the counter.

"You may know it as a flying serpent, an Ophtenka." Mirth added with a wave of her hand.

"An Ophtenka eye?!" Myghal slouched, almost dropping his bowl, looking like a boy who had been told he was up for punishment. "Why?"

"She just said –I'm evil." Ira smirked, wincing as Mirth slapped his shoulder.

"If you want to be able to understand The Foul, to use it to its potential to over throw the Emperor, you will need the wisdom of dragons." Mirth dropped the ingredients into a mortar to grind together. "Your alignment has nothing to do with it. You're simply too stupid."

Myghal laughed.

"And you are too careless," she didn't spare him either. "Were you waiting for infection to set in? Hm? Neither of you are keen in self-preservation, I see." Myghal went quiet, shocked as he glanced to Ira. "Off with it. Let me fix it before you get yourself killed." Myghal scrambled to remove his belt, clearly worried at her raised tone.

"Infection?" Ira tilted his head, "don't tell me I'm going to have to start watching you like some ankle biter. This really is some curse, isn't it?"

"I'm a little sore, it's nothing bad –ah!" He bit off into a grimace as Mirth packed the mixture into his shoulder.

“Yes, well, you’ll be speaking a different verse when it begins to fester and spreads to your heart. You’ll be worse off than that louse over there.” She made a sloppy gesture towards Ira, scraping more from the mortar to pack. Myghal hissed a grimace.

“And… what happens if he dies?” Ira sat his bowl on the desk, crossing his arms in a dare for Myghal to look at him.

“I suppose you return to the state you were before you found him.”

“You mean, while I was looking for him?”

“Yes,” she deeply bobbed her head. “This curse chose him for a reason. I doubt it would search for another.”

“If he dies, I’m stuck with this curse, searching for him, when he’s dead?!” The icy ache melted in the rage, aiming it for Myghal considering she couldn’t see his face.

“Then, I suppose Rook, you best take care of your stolen goods.”

"These dragons, where are we going to find one? Are they even around anymore?" Myghal had become more relaxed on his horse in the two weeks since leaving Mirth's. Nepi was no longer a means of escape or stolen property, but instead a familiar fixture. She had also given him a new staff, one she promised wouldn’t break no matter what it struck. Ira had forgotten Myghal had a weapon at all. It didn’t seem to suit him.

"No dragons in the Arctic Ridge?"

"Not that I know of. Besides, if there is, you couldn't pay me all the gold in the Empire to go back there."

"What about in the south? No... what did you call them? Open-tents?"

"Ophtenka," his voice was somehow deeper when he spoke his native language. "And no, we haven't seen one of those for centuries. The last one died when the People of the Plains came together to defeat after they got tired of it destroying their villages."

"So then, you know how to kill one?" Ira hooked his reins on the saddle horn, twisting about to dig through his satchel. He was out of dried apples and with a low canteen he didn't want the last piece of bread. They would need to restock soon.

"It took an entire village to kill it. No offense, but I don't think one fighter and a thief are going to have any luck."

"Optimistic, aren't you?" Ira gave up looking for a snack. "Then what should we get instead?"

"I'm not saying we can't. Maybe we can find someone who does or who can help."

"Well, where would you look for someone like that? Or to even find an Ophtenka?" Ira knew who he could talk to, but he had found Myghal saw things very differently. Learning about him made for shorter rides and gave him an idea of who he was working with.

"A Row House," he answered and then paused. "Is that what they're called here?"

"Don't think so. Not that I've heard."

"You know, a place where everyone gets together for drinks or a good meal. It's the place for gossip, tall tales, war stories and legends. It's a fountain of information."

"So, a tavern. A place to eat and drink. Usually dark and a hive of underhanded business and good-for-nothings."

"The first part, yeah." Myghal grimaced, "What is wrong with people here?"

"You'll get used to it." Ira noticed movement through the trees in the bend. The woods were thinning out and between the trunks he could see sunlit fields, and three people on horseback. He knew a roadblock when he saw one, but the black banner flickering from their halberd wasn't Imperial so Ira didn't care.

"What's this?" Myghal grunted, having noticed Ira was looking. "Trouble?"

"Looks like someone may own this road," Ira shrugged. Myghal gave him that infamous look of confusion and he began to wonder how people lived in the south. "Sometimes people set up places in the road to intimidate riders. Sometimes it's officials or soldier, others it's bandits. Either way, they want money. They see this as their road –their territory.”

“No one owns a road,” Myghal scoffed. They slowed on their approach as one rider got down from their horse to stand in the middle of the dirt track. It looked to be their usual place. Trees along the side of the road had long since been taken down, lying in piles topped with limbs and litter giving a horse little room to maneuver around them.

“Halt!” the man called, hand lifted as one of the smaller riders readied a bow. “By the order of the region, you must pay a toll to continue on this road.” Ira stopped Berma, looking to Myghal.

“Pay to use a road?” He asked, still fumbling with the concept. “We haven’t seen any other roads we have to pay to use.” He glanced to Ira and was given a shrug.

“This road you do.” The archer spoke up, a woman. She was young by her tone, still carrying some childish whine. “If you want to get to Galenia you have ta pay the toll.”

“Oh, so the funds go to Galenia. Is that a town that’s nearby? Do they have a tavern?”

“I’m sure they do.” The gruff man carrying the halberd on his horse waved for them to hurry. “You need to pay up first.”

“So, not for Galenia then. What about for the Empire?” The three of them laughed.

"It's a toll road," the young woman snapped. “Just pay up or I’ll put an arrow between your eyes.” Myghal looked to Ira, brow wrinkled in confusion as if they were speaking a foreign language.

"But the funds don't go to the town or the Empire? Shouldn't it go to trying to make the place better for the people, or, at least, fix the road?" He motioned to the rocky mud, and Ira let him walk himself through it. "All right," Myghal released a long breath, tossing his shoulders before getting down from Nepi.

"Toll is two silver." The lead man clarified. Ira watched his partner in curiosity.

"How much are you going to give them, Myghal?" He paused, looking over the top of the saddle at Ira.

"Well, there's three of them. Two a piece?"

"Two? Each?" Ira frowned. But he saw Myghal reach under his pack, hand freeing the buttons to the holster Mirth had given them.

"Why not? I'm feeling a little generous." He whipped the staff free, twirling it to grab one end and swing across the mounted man from his horse. In an incredible flipping bounce of the staff, Myghal slid in an advance, spinning it on a wrist knocking the swordsman in the gut –one. Then the back of the head—two. The archer was too slow, having to reload. Myghal moved almost weightless, the way Ira had seen runners take rooftops.

A spin of Myghal’s staff caught the next arrow, and he leapt batting her across the stomach. One. And on the back of the head spilling her face down onto the road. Two. All three lay motionless in the dirt, Myghal taking a step back as he watched. Ira slouched in the saddle. He had expected money to be handed over, a loss on their part, Myghal as gullible as some noble's child. What he found he didn’t even have words for.

"What?" Myghal asked.

"Nothing."

"You're smiling."

"It's nothing." Ira assured, "two a piece, huh?"

"Yeah. That's what I said I'd give them." He chuckled, tapping his staff against a flat rock.

"I think your shorted him," Ira clicked his tongue pointing to the fallen horseman. Myghal glanced over, shoulders falling.

"Well, that's not fair, is it?" He reached out, giving a firm jab to their back. They gave a weak groan. "Even," he announced. "I've never understood the motive of highwaymen." He returned his staff to the sling before mounting again.

"Lack of skill or plethora of violence." Ira caught himself staring. Not that he could help it. He hadn't been this caught off guard since he was set up failure that put him in Dungaree. By Myghal's height and the width of his shoulders, Ira had placed him as a lumber oaf, not a weapons master.

"You know," he started, moving Berma around the unconscious woman. "This might not be so bad."

"What?"

"The curse. If it’s supposed to teach me something, maybe you’re the one to teach it to me, even if you are an idiot."

"That was almost a compliment." Myghal glared at him.

“Give me credit, I’m trying.”

#AU Time!#My Writing

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thatonemirror · 5 years

Text

A/N: self-insert ft Noctis. Sometimes its fun just doing nothing with friends.

“Are you sure its okay for you to blow off work like this?” Luckily KC had managed to snag a booth in a quiet cafe way in the back. She had ordered a bunch of snacks and drinks to share with her companion, although she had ordered it all before he had arrived. The guy at the counter had given her a weird look and it made her anxious, but it was whatever.

Noctis waved a hand. “Yeah, I just scheduled in time and said it was an offsite meeting.” He was still dressed in a fine suit and looked a little bit out of place in such a casual setting. No one could see them unless they walked through the back to get to the restroom, but it was a pretty quiet setting regardless.

“So no one knows you’re kind of blowing off work to sit in a cafe and play mobile games?” KC snickered and grabbed a few fries to munch on.

“Nope.” Noctis grinned without looking up from his screen and tapped away.

The two friends had bonded through Kings Knight. KC had joined the guild in game and they had hit off. When they found out they worked in the same district, they decided to meet up one day. It KC’s surprise, Noctis was quite a bit more distinguished than she thought he was, although she supposed it was better than the alternative. She was also pleasantly wrong about her assumptions—Noctis was a rich boy, but he wasn’t insufferable. Noctis was just glad KC’s attitude towards him hadn’t changed when they finally met face-to-face.

“You know Ignis probably knows—can you change your assist unit to a tank? I’m gonna tackle the latest trial.” KC set up her team and waited for her friend’s list to refresh.

“I thought you finished it already?” Noctis switched up his assist unit as requested. “And yeah, I know, but it’s been a while since I’ve done this, so I’ll probably just get a talking to.” He munched on some fries. “Don’t forget to equip elemental resist gear.”

“I died at like 5 percent HP, so I rage quit. I have passable elemental resist gear, but I ceebs farming for better stuff.” KC proclaimed that she was a kind-of-sort-of a lazy gamer. She couldn’t hit that grind like Noctis could; she always got bored with long grind tasks in games. It was just so tedious. “I really don’t want to get into trouble with Ignis for not telling him you were bludging with me.”

Noctis looked up from his screen and gave KC a pointed look. “If you tell him where I am, I will tell him all about your crush on him.” He warned and the woman flushed before throwing a fry at him, which he dodged because her aim was kind of lame. “Plus you won’t get into trouble. He always says you’re one of my more respectable friends.”

“More respectable.” KC snickered. “Because I’m not completely respectable? That huuuuurts.” She faux whined.

“You know what I mean.” Noctis nudged her under the table with the tip of his shoe. “Tell me about work. Are things any better?”

KC shook her head. “Nah. I gotta get out. I’m an idiot because I’m lazy. I keep thinking things will be better, but that’s just me being hopeful that I won’t have to go into job search mode. Do you know how hard it is to sell your skills with low self-esteem?” The woman started the boss fight in Kings Knight and watched carefully for attack patterns. “I had to take a mental health day today.” Or else she was going to cry at her desk again.

At this point she had weaponised her crying at work—if she cried, people would feel uncomfortable and would leave her alone. The only people who cared were her closest co-workers, but she didn’t like emotionally burdening them. They were also in the same boat—the workplace was toxic in general.

A silence fell over the two friends as they played on their phones, but enjoyed each other’s company regardless. Halfway through KC’s boss fight, Noctis glanced at his friend. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she figured out her next actions. “Are you okay?” He asked carefully when it looked like she wasn’t in the middle of an action.

“Hm?” KC paused her game and looked up. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Noctis repeated. He knew she was having a rough time, but she was the sort to try and solve all her problems on her own. Even though she touted being lazy, she was a problem-solver at heart and would never leave something undone for too long. It irritated her. “You can put me down as a reference if you want—for the job search. I’ll write you a recommendation.”

KC rolled her eyes. “That would just be problematic for you.” She waved a hand. Noctis was someone prolific, sure, but first and foremost, he was her friend. She didn’t want to use his name for self-gain. Plus if people saw she was connected to him through her CV, they’d want to use her as a way to get to Noctis. “It's okay.” She groaned. “I just have to not be lazy and start looking.”

Noctis quirked his lip. “Send your CV and cover letter to Gladio. He’s a people person and can spruce it up.”

KC gasped in mock indignation. “Are you saying I am incapable of making a bomb ass application myself? How dare you.”

The corporate prince rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner before flicking a fry at his friend. They laughed quietly at their own antics.

The woman gave up on the trial and put her phone away, deciding to focus on snacking instead. She was good at that—eating food. “Thanks, Noct. I think I really need to hang out with a friend—stop pulling that face—oh my god!”

Noctis had a look of faux disgust. “You’re expressing affection, it’s weird. Please stop.” He raised his arms as KC became embarrassed and swatted at him from across the table. “See? This is more like you!” He knew she liked to tout that she was heartless and emotionless, but everyone who knew KC knew it wasn’t true.

KC sat back in her seat and huffed. “I’ll call Ignis on you.”

“I’ll—” Noctis started, but his phone started ringing. “Oh man, speak of the devil.” He held up the screen; it was Ignis. Noctis hesitated a few times before answering it. “Hey, Iggy—yeah—I kno—wait that’s not—you don’t need to—” He pulled a face and stayed quiet as Ignis very patiently and kindly reminded him of all his responsibilities and the harsh consequences of avoiding such responsibilities. Noctis raised his eyes to see KC looking smug. At first he felt betrayed, but then he slowly grinned. “KC needed some moral support, I wasn’t going to leave her alone.”

Said woman’s jaw dropped and she raised a fist as if she was going to throw a punch. ‘Don’t you bring me into this!’ She mouthed and made the slit throat gesture. ‘Shut up!’

“Yeah, she’s really down. Took a mental health day. She was crying and everything.” Noctis sounded solemn pushed the truth a little, but he so badly wanted to laugh. KC was bright red from either embarrassment or holding in her anger. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. I’m gonna give her a ride home first—yeah, that sounds like a great idea. I’m sure she’d love a call from you.”

KC looked like she was about to jump over the table and strangle him, so said a quick ‘bye’ to Ignis before hanging up. “Noctis!” The woman hissed at him. “What the fuck?! We’re friends? Don’t use me as an excuse to escape your consequences!” The volume of her voice was rising with each word, as it usually did when she as either angry or excited; in this case, it was the former rather than the latter.

Noctis simply slid out of the booth and gestured for her to follow him. “Please, I just got you a private call with Ignis, you should be thanking me.” Since his dependable executive coworker figured out he was dodging work, it was time for him to go.

“I’ll thank you with a slap, how ‘bout that?!” KC slapped Noctis on the back and he yelped.

He guessed he kind of deserved it.

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