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jojotier · 4 years

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Strings for Prisoners

(Svetlana character study fic ahead)

Prison life at the most brutal institution in Russia was… dull. It was a realization that Svetlana regarded with a great deal of disappointment, using one hand to pin her wildly flying braid up. One would think that life after holding one’s equally boring tax collector of a husband at gunpoint and committing a few counts of grand larceny would land her someplace that didn’t want to make her pluck her eyes out and gently lay them in the drift ice, and yet...

It was the same monotonous routine, day in and day out. They awoke, they ate, they were scolded for things that Svetlana didn’t really care to pay attention to, they worked. They had some free time with frequent warden checks. A guard tried to court her, or maybe it was multiple (she didn’t care about men either) and they offered the same dull prize. She slept.

And now Svetlana had to deal with being slung over the shoulder of a female revolutionary after Svetlana may or may not have murdered several guards. Admittedly, she hadn’t the time to check her work.

Ah, wait. Spotting a few men getting closer, Svetlana snapped back into the present. Svetlana had been so distracted for a moment, scanning the white backdrop of the snow with Akou rising in the snow-sheeted distance, that she’d started thinking about her life story instead. This prison break was actually getting to be a little fun.

So Svetlana had tried to shoot a guard or two. Or five. Would you blame her?

“Is now the time to be doing your hair, kid?” Sofia admonished, but Svetlana could hear that cheeky damn smile in her voice. As if this biddy wasn’t having a grand old time causing mayhem- it seemed like the sort of thing the dame was suited for, strong-arming enemies and goons alike into dancing just the way she wanted. Even a novice to prison life like Svetlana could see how much of an iron grip Sofia had on the place.

“Is now the time to be running your mouth?” Svetlana shot back, raising her stolen pistol with her free hand. Since she’d only been inside of the prison for a few months now, some of the more persistent guards still hadn’t quite gotten the memo about her total lack of fucks for them. It wasn’t as if Svetlana made any effort to appear even passingly interested, but when it came to idiots, even the slightest inclination of tolerance was seen as a victory. On especially persistent guard was the one who took her silence as “tolerance”- as “warming up” to him- which made it far too easy to just grab a gun and aim for the heart.

Sofia had the gall to laugh at that, tossing her head back with a raucous uproar. “Big words, from the brat whose ass I’m saving!”

“And I’m not covering yours, too?” Svetlana took aim at the nearest of the encroaching targets, closing one eye against the stinging winter wind. She couldn’t make out much from this distance, but she thought she saw a facial scar of some kind, covering most of his indistinct face. It was possibly Yakov. Svetlana really hoped it was Yakov. She’d been itching to pop that bastard in the jaw for weeks. Never in her life had she been so singularly annoyed by a man who didn’t want to get into her skirts.

But soon the figure of their pursuer was fading back into the distance, and Svetlana had no choice but to let up on her aim. Bullets were a commodity that came in precious few bursts. If she blew everything all at once, however, would she have any left for the return trip?

There was a moment of silence as the menacing exterior of their drab prison raised in the distance. Nothing met them but the crunch of snow under thin shoes and the errant squeal of a wheel here and there. Honestly, with how fast Sofia could run with those powerful legs of hers, Svetlana had all but forgotten that she was still technically chained up to that wheelbarrow.

Fingers getting cold around the cold metal of the gun, Svetlana casually let it drop from her hand, watching it disappear into the stream of white that suddenly blew past. She didn’t need to see, thankfully- the solid clunk of metal on metal told her it had made it into its intended target.

Sofia, who apparently couldn’t stand to go five minutes without opening that mammoth trap, continued speaking, even as she slowed. “Now then, my poor degenerate, where exactly are you taking me for this little trip?”

“Who said you could slow down?” Svetlana groused quietly, eyebrows furrowing as she looked towards the ground. “Pedal while it's safe.”

“These old bones, that’s who,” Sofia complained, but it wasn’t in any genuine way. How did the crone always seem so carefree? Seemed exhausting as hell, especially at her age. “I’m not as young or spry as I used to be, you know! Those jackasses have been fattening me up all these years by giving me such light work… You can’t blame me for needing a break.” The way that Sofia took that prison work lightly, as if her being able to carry as much as many of the men there was such lazy work, got on Svetlana’s nerves. Not that Svetlana’s nerves weren’t already perpetually being trampled on by the woman and her wicked grin and her damn laugh.

“...” Svetlana oftentimes didn’t feel the need to say anything, but that desire to stay silent in the face of the verbal onslaught of Sofia’s personality would have won over her tongue even if she did want to open her mouth.

Sofia caught her breath quicker than anything else as she stopped, glancing down over the town. “If we stay around here, we’ll be caught. I suggest starting with the directions if you’d like to skip the whipping.”

“...” Svetlana sighed. “Will you at least put me down first?”

Sofia grinned. “Nope!”

~~~

It was at an evergreen tree near the outskirts of the town, down a path that almost always remained untrodden. When Svetlana had lived with her husband, he told her a story on one of the rare nights when he had gone sailing away.

She hadn’t been listening all that intently- she never wanted to, when he was so insistent on leaving her with empty promises to come and take her sailing to new and exotic places. But she caught the gist of it.

When a girl went under that tree, professing their love, that love would come true.

When he teasingly asked her if she had a love to confess, she gave a non-answer, vaguely insinuating that she might confess for him.

It was a lie. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know, though- Alexander was perceptive.

It wasn’t as if she particularly cared either way if his eyes shined with a little bit of hurt.

It was probably relief in any case- she didn’t particularly want a man, and the man she had didn’t want her. That suited her fine.

~~~

Sofia set her down onto the soft snow and Svetlana took a moment to stretch her arms up and out. Who knew that being slung for several hours over someone’s broad shoulder could create such a crick? She was going to throw her damn back out at this rate.

“Alright, here we are,” Sofia announced to no one in particular. Or probably to Svetlana. Svetlana had decided not to pay attention to her glorified taxi service for the afternoon, so she didn’t really care to differentiate. “So now, what’s the plan, then?”

“Quiet.” Svetlana ordered, pulling her bandana off her head and laying it on the icy ground. “Be useful and keep watch.”

Sofia raised her hands up in a mockery of placation, laughter coating her voice as she mockingly said, “Well, that’s just as well then- you’re the boss.”

The corner of Svetlana’s mouth ticked down as she looked over her shoulder to give Sofia a look. The look was hopefully enough to get across that she didn’t much appreciate being patronized. Sofia, looking wholly unaffected, simply lowered herself into the wheelbarrow she had spent the last few hours carting around and made herself comfortable.

Huffing a small breath out her nose, Svetlana knelt down and tilted her head so that her braid was flipped over her shoulder. Starting from the bottom, she began to pull her hair loose, gritting her teeth against the knots that had formed. It was slow and methodical work, slowly untangling her hair, because of all the little things that she had hidden inside of it.

There were strands of straw-yellow hair wrapped around little cogs and gears. There were knots tied to the bits of triggers and scrapped muzzle fragments. Working up the braid yielded larger pieces- a clockwork hammer and a dull screwdriver, a miniature wrench. Lead weights. Paperweights. And as she ran her fingers through her hair and shook it out, the last bits to fall were 7 meticulously counted bullets, harmlessly touching down against the snow.

It would have been too obvious if she carried everything in her dress pockets, shallow as they were. The apron she wore when working at some municipal politician’s house was thoroughly searched if she so much as went outside to fetch water.

There were a few girls there who had almost blown her cover by getting a little too handsy, begging to just play with her hair, but a couple of others had managed to fend them off.

(Donka was a shrewd older woman who didn’t take kindly to younger staff horseplaying, so Svetlana had expected to be able to use her as an excuse- but it had been surprising when Milica had distracted the girls the second time, begging for her own hair to be done instead. The girl was at least a decade younger than Svetlana, so it was surprising to see she was actually rather capable when reading the room.)

From her seat, Sofia whistled lowly, eyebrows shooting up. “Well, looks like someone’s got a teensy little hoarding habit.”

Svetlana decided not to answer that obvious provocation and instead focused on trying to find the trowel she managed to hook to one of her stockings. In the dead of winter, the ground was hard, but it wasn’t as if she had much choice in the manner. She couldn’t very well tie everything up in a neat bow and stash it in a few tree branches.

It might have seemed counterintuitive, she thought as she stabbed the hard ground a few times to make an indent, to bury her little stash here, but it was the safest place. The superstitious teenagers looking for love treated this tree as holy ground, never to be consecrated. The older people in town tended to go about their business and hide their secrets in a thousand and one other myriads of places, while the elderly tended not to take the difficult road to make it here. Thus far, no one had found it.

After making a sizable indent in the soil, she reached beside herself and struck a match. The flame flickered slightly before bursting into full force, providing a small fire that licked at the tips of her fingers. The burn brought her back to the present moment. Gritting her teeth slightly against it, she held it up to the metal end of the trowel and waited.

Sofia clicked her tongue loudly and started up yet again. “Whatever your plan is, it must be going off well- there’s not a damn thing for me to do here!”

“Mm.” Svetlana hummed noncommittally.

“You’re the young’in here,” Sofia said encouragingly, leaning forward. That wheelbarrow could not have been comfortable, and yet Sofia sat in it as if it was made of the finest silks, legs crossed daintily as she rested her elbows against her knees. “There must be something else I can do for you here.”

“Not at all.” Svetlana bluntly said, flicking the match into the snow. With the trowel sufficiently heated up, she stabbed it into the indent in the soil and slowly started to dig.

“Do you even know what to do with all those little… gadgets?” Sofia pressed.

“Of course I do.” Svetlana half-lied. She mostly knew how they worked- back home when she was especially bored, her father found her little odd jobs to work around the lighthouse. Sometimes it meant sliding into places he couldn’t reach, and other times it meant correcting little inaccuracies in the clockwork he liked to build.

“You know, my little lovely,” Her elderly father had told her once, smiling as she bent over a mainspring and the metal ribbon torsion spring that was wound a little too tight, “if you had been born a little sooner, I could have sent you to Saint Petersburg with this- they had a marvelous little school…”

Never mind the fact that Svetlana could have never attended, even if that school- nothing but a little no-name workshop, really, and not a full-fledged school- were still around. When she didn’t say anything all he said was, “I’m just glad that we have you here now, in any case.”

Svetlana stabbed the tool a little harder into the ground on the next dig, knuckles curled white around it.

“- and you should have seen him with his little toys,” Sofia was saying. Looks like Svetlana had instinctively tuned her out. Whoops.

Svetlana said pleasantly, “Interesting. You can go now.”

For once, that actually seemed to catch Sofia off guard. The look Svetlana received was taken aback and then, incredibly bemused. “You’ll need a way back, isn’t that right?”

“No. I’ve decided to go now.” Svetlana said, hearing a little thunk where the trowel hit wood. Jackpot.

“With so little?” Sofia said, and damn her, she was teasing.

“It’s not little at all.” Svetlana said, mildly peeved. She dug a little harder and faster than necessary and, finally, she was able to unearth a little chest.

There wasn’t much room inside, but Svetlana knew that it was the quality of the goods that mattered, rather than the sheer amount. It had been imparted to her by her mother, teaching her the mundane aspects of keeping kitchen and house; it had been imparted by her father, testing everything for working order; and it had been taught to her by her merchant husband, showing off all sorts of little trinkets he’d gotten in exchange for nothing at all.

Her guns were still there, almost as pearly and new as the day she stole them from her husband’s competitor.

Sofia finally got up from her seat, stretching out like a cat and glancing over Svetlana’s shoulder. The amusement in her voice had quieted somewhat. “And what do you expect to do with this?”

“Easy.” Svetlana said, loading the intact one with the bullets she’d pilfered. “I’m getting off this island.”

“That answers literally nothing.” Sofia said.

“It answers everything.” Svetlana insisted.

“Okay then, answer me this.” Sofia pressed, the smile slowly slipping off of her face. “How are you going to get off the island. Do you have men stationed somewhere nearby? A point you know you can stow away on?”

“I’ll find somewhere.” Svetlana said vaguely. She had mapped out plenty of routes with Alexander beforehand, and he told her all the best ships to hide in- so surely, if she could just find one of the vessels he’d pointed out to her, it’d be easy sailing. “It’ll be easy, with this.”

“With a gun and nothing else?” Sofia remained unconvinced.

“No, two guns and all these little bits I found,” Svetlana said with absolute certainty.

“And what do you think you’ll get for all those ‘little bits’ exactly.”

Svetlana opened her mouth to answer, glanced at the little pile of cogs and gears to fix her other pistol with, and closed her mouth. Lips pursing, she deflected from the question entirely. “That’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important- where the hell are you getting funds?” Sofia demanded, “Who’s going to be convinced of the sincerity of a lone girl with a couple of guns, exactly? A lone girl who’s already been convicted of robbery once, mind you. Will you be prepared to take an entire crew on if you stowaway? If you steal a boat, do you even know how to use it? Where-”

The questions just kept piling up, each one more biting than the last. Every single question needled at Svetlana’s carefully constructed plan, with no room for any sensible answers such as, “I’ll make it work,” to get in edgewise. It was absolutely maddening.

“Well, since you’re so knowledgeable,” Svetlana holstered her gun against her hip and slammed the lid on the chest down, cutting Sofia’s tirade short, “why haven’t you left then, hm?”

“I haven’t made all my preparations yet,” was all Sofia said, but before she could continue her lecture, Svetlana cut in again.

“Oh, bullshit,” Svetlana said curtly, head snapping back to glare at the woman hovering over her shoulder. “You think I haven’t realized how everyone treats you in that prison? Even the guards don’t like to whip you! You could have gotten out at any time- what kind of fool do you take me for?”

Sofia’s eyes narrowed at her, smile gone from her face. Finally. “A reckless little fool who hasn’t thought anything over except for the barest inkling. That’s the sort of fool you’re making yourself.”

“Of course I’ve thought it over. I’ve thought it enough .” Svetlana finally stood, hoisting the chest under one arm. “If you want to stay paralyzed planning everything down to the second, I won’t stop you. Do as you please, Sofia Golden Hand.”

“... That’s all well and good for you, then, if you can somehow miraculously pull this off without getting yourself killed.” Sofia said, looming over Svetlana’s head with a fierce look in her eye and, damnably, a little grin to her gnarled lips. Curse this damn woman- and, more importantly, curse her ability to piss Svetlana off. “You won’t make it five steps.”

“Is that a threat?” Svetlana asked, eyes narrowing in turn.

“Nah- I don’t have time to waste on petty nonsense like that. Actions over words- it’ll do you good to remember that.” Sofia said, as carefree as ever before. “It’s just me giving a little friendly advice.”

“Tch.” Svetlana huffed, turning on her heel and starting to walk. Friendly advice, her ass- all Sofia seemed to like is getting under people’s skins. She didn’t have time to waste on

Svetlana didn’t walk three steps before a bullet grazed her ear.

The shot stunned her into paralysis, muscles locking with the sharp pain that erupted in the left side of her head and hand raised partway to her holster before stopping, equally as frozen. For a few long, agonizing moments- or minutes, hours even- the world slowed and narrowed down, the blood rushing through her ears acting as the only thing keeping things from being as silent as the snow.

Underneath the thrum of her heart pounding in her eardrums, Svetlana heard Sofia give an annoyed grunt and another gunshot. This time, no bullet grazed by Svetlana; only a shadow hovering protectively at her back.

Slowly turning her head, out of the corner of her eye, Svetlana caught Sofia’s stare. The grin was still on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She stared down at Svetlana with an intense stare that bore into her bones. If she’d been religious, Svetlana might have mistaken the fire in that stare as hot enough to burn God.

“Hey kid,” Sofia said in a hushed whisper, “now’s a good time to stop dreaming.”

“Sofia Golden Hand!” A male voice barked out authoritatively. The red slowly leaking through the shoulder of Sofia’s dress told the whole story. “Svetlana Zima! You’re coming back with me.”

Svetlana’s mouth opened slightly, but any questions- did you know this was going to happen? why did you let them follow? why did You follow?- dried as a lump in her throat. Tilting her face down, Sofia whispered, “Keep shaking like that and play along- you can still get out of this.”

Suddenly, Sofia’s uninjured arm was thrown around Svetlana’s neck, pulling her suddenly into her side as Sofia turned on her heel. Her box fell from her hands and was kicked out of the way by the force of Sofia’s kick, and with her face smushed underneath Sofia’s armpit, she couldn’t see where it’d been kicked off to behind them. Svetlana felt the cold muzzle of a gun press against the underside of her chin. With a taunt in her words, Sofia called back, “How much do you really want to do any more of that, guard Baranov?”

Yakov- and of course the guard that just so happened to catch up with them had to be fucking Yakov, of all the dozens of guards in Akou- balked for a mere half a second, icy blue eyes widening just a fraction before he remembered himself and took steady aim. “Why, of course- how kind of you to give me the option when you’re at such a disadvantage yourself. Resorting to using that girl as a shield… that’s far lower than what I would have expected of you.”

“Oho, is it now?” Sofia got out through gritted teeth and an insincere grin, taking a shuffling step back. Yakov tensed, muzzle aimed towards Sofia’s head- and Svetlana could see his finger twitching against the trigger. “And what’s stopping me from taking my new protege and running?”

Yakov’s brow furrowed in response, eyes narrowing into pinpricks. There was an angry twist to his mouth as he spat, “Protege… As if I’d allow you to get that far! Every moment you spend monologuing, that’s another moment we stall for reinforcements. No innocents will be taken.”

Innocent? Svetlana wondered with some offense. She had, in fact, robbed some people. It was kind of insulting to be put in this damsel situation when she was the one who landed herself in prison in the first place.

“As if I’d spend time monologuing just to prolong anything,” Sofia said, continuing to monologue to prolong everything. “The second you try anything, I’ll be blowing this girl’s brains out. Even if I lose out on one protege, there are a thousand and one others who I have the allegiance of, right on this island.”

“Telling me this as if I don’t already know it?” Yakov countered, a sweltering grin coming onto his own face. Now that the talking had started, the adrenaline in Svetlana’s veins- the feeling of the gun muzzle against her, the warmth of being pressed against Sofia’s body, the pain in her ear- was all swirling together and coming down to a fine point in the tips of each of her fingers. She knew that Yakov loved to talk (by God. Did she know. And she wasn’t exactly happy about knowing) and she had a feeling Sofia was a similar way.

Her nerves jittered under her skin. She wanted this to be over already. She wanted to either be running to the other side of the island or taken in chains. Anticipation was going to kill her.

So without a second thought, she pulled her pistol and shot Yakov through his left ear.

As the man grit his teeth, springing into action and charging forward, Sofia pulled both of them out the way, hissing to Svetlana, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“... I hate monologues.” was the only answer Svetlana could come up with.

After all, what else could she have done? Wouldn’t anyone else have done the same?

Despite the fact that they ran immediately after, they were apprehended almost immediately. Svetlana still wasn’t sure where her box had gone- only that, when she looked back, it had disappeared without a trace.

~~~

Three months ago, on the day she was arrested, she held her “husband” at gunpoint and “forced” him into robbery. Except, Alexander wasn’t legally able to marry her, so they weren’t actually married. And Alexander had been the one to come up with the robbery.

She’d read the scene in book, back when she lived in the lighthouse, sitting on the stairwell and letting the lantern light dust across the pages of her book. Once, there was a couple who committed crimes together, and for the husband to save his wife from jail, he made it seem as if she had been an unwilling accomplice the entire time.

(He had also impregnated her, but Svetlana couldn’t very well do that, and it was really a very shitty book anyway.)

But Svetlana had a gun and, even with her fingers trembling, a lot of gumption.

Being on the other end of it and finding it absolutely insufferable, Svetlana thought that she should apologize to Alexander the next time they met. If they ever saw each other again.

The thought left a pang in her heart as she was carted back to Akou, eyes searching the endless vast white. It wasn’t as if she loved Alexander- and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried, again and again, and failed, because no romantic interest could ever really take root- but she cared for him. He’d been kind to her and seemed content to just have her, even if she couldn’t love him.

Svetlana never heard from Alexander again.

~~~

The feeling in her chest persisted, took root and grew as she waited with Sofia in front of the chamber where they were scheduled to be whipped. Inside, one poor sod by the name of Nikivorov was being whipped half to death, after he actually managed to kill three guards on his way out.

Svetlana was no longer feeling too good about her possible body count, and not just because Nikivorov was screaming so loudly that the glass panel in the door was shaking with his cries to God, to mercy, to anyone to help him, please for the love of anything-

“You really were damn frisky with that gun, hm?” Sofia said contemplatively, breaking the atmosphere in the worst possible way. “Didn’t pin you as the trigger happy type.”

Gurgles filtered into the room as Svetlana stared steadfastly down at her open palms resting on her lap. First, Nikivirov was scheduled to be taken to death’s doorstep. Then Sofia would enter with her unflappable attitude, and after the flogger grew tired of her flippant remarks, it would be Svetlana’s turn. There was the flutter of fabric against leg restraints, gentle choking silencing another scream of terror upon utterance.

Sofia continued as if nothing at all was wrong. “Then again, I never pinned Nikki as the masochistic type, but here he’s killing guards to have reason to get his rocks off.”

Svetlana’s head snapped up to look at Sofia in alarm and she gave a laugh so voracious that it nearly covered the wet coughs on the other side of the door. “Hah! Got you to look! The look on your face, little one, is far too much- I may just die before the whipping’s got a chance to do me in!”

The guard sitting across from Sofia looked hopeful, for just the smallest moment. She was still sporting the bullet wound in her shoulder- no doubt, he likely took it as a chance to inflict enough pain to get a rise out of her. Svetlana wanted nothing more than to punch that smug look off of his face for even daring to look in their direction. As if Sofia would ever yield to a scrawny little shitheel like that…

The struggles on the other side of the door stopped. The guard on the other side opened the door and poked his head in, dispassionately saying, “‘ey, boss? I think he’s dead.”

The scrawny jackass- Svetlana probably learned his name, but she didn’t care to remember- sighed. “Again? Jesus, that’s the second one this year.”

Svetlana felt all the blood drain away from her body. At least like that, perhaps, the inability to draw blood would make her punisher lose interest. Or else, it might make him want to lash her more- pull more lacerations out of her back until even a drop of red could be spared, seeping out of her pores, wrung out as near and dear as poison.

“... Least he died doing what he loved, eh?” Sofia tried to joke, but the smile on her lips was strained. When Svetlana didn’t respond, instead of leaving it like the usual, she paused, leaning close to whisper. “Svetlana. I really do need you to speak to me right now.”

Svetlana wet her cracking lips and just murmured, “... Why.”

“Just to make sure.” Sofia didn’t elaborate on what she was making sure of. She just laid a hand in one of Svetlana’s and squeezed, pressing into her. “Hey, don’t be too worried about these guards- since it's your first time, it’ll hurt like hell… but after this, everything comes easy.”

Svetlana didn’t want it to come easier after. She wanted it to be easy right then- because, she should have been strong enough for it not to mean anything, surely. She’d put bullets into people without a thought just earlier that day. Svetlana hadn’t even been weak when in that damsel situation, once the initial shock wore off- because that was surely simply. Shock.

… But who was she kidding, really?

After the body was carelessly handled out of the room, thrown over two shoulders and hitting into several doorframes, Sofia shed her shirt and swaggered into the torture chamber with a pep in her step. Svetlana was left alone in the room outside, hearing the crack of the whip against bare skin and Sofia’s jeering.

The arrogance in her tone had only grown. Svetlana heard a few passing guards comment on how Sofia was being more of a handful than usual.

When Yakov stalked into the room and sat across from her, Svetlana was, for once, almost glad. The left side of his head was still bandaged from the wound, but otherwise, he appeared almost normal- if somewhat more guarded.

“Sorry to surprise you,” He said with a little smile, “but I’ll be taking over your punishment.”

“...” Svetlana didn’t want to deal with him or even grace him with an answer.

“... I figured it was only fair since I go easiest. This is your first time… but you’ve shot a lot of people today, Svetlana.” Yakov continued, lightly frowning as his tone became somewhat more stern. “It was all pretty bad…”

Svetlana glanced down at her hands.

“But, none of them died, even if the blood loss was a bit of a problem.” Yakov continued, a strange sheen to his eyes. “Because you shot each and every one nonfatally. On purpose, I think- am I right?”

Svetlana didn’t answer.

“You don’t need to say anything.” Actions spoke louder than words. Sofia had told her that, and now, she was on the other side of the door, speaking louder than her singular action of laying down and taking that whipping.

For a long time, there was silence.

“I have to say… You remind me of my daughter.” Yakov finally said. Svetlana wished more than anything that the bullet from before had actually ruptured her ear.

This was the bit she hated most about this man. For months, he spoke about nothing but his goddamn daughter- how she was his little radish child and how he was so proud of her and how he was so sad that she was off to be married in just a short year, all the way across the world. Svetlana generally didn’t care about a lot, but she especially didn’t care for this man’s apparent midlife crisis.

“She’s always been a little headstrong, and as she’s grown, she’s become refined and wonderful! In fact… I think you’re about the same age.” The smile that lit up his face burned Svetlana’s eyes. He laughed gently. “Of course, I don’t believe she’s ever had a rebellious phase like this one-”

“It’s a good thing,” Svetlana cut him off coldly, “that I’m not your daughter, then.”

Yakov fell silent at that. When he spoke again, there was no warmth. “Yes. It is.”

After that, Yakov didn’t speak to her.

Svetlana almost wanted to ask why he’d volunteer to whip someone who reminded him of his daughter if he loved her so very much, but there was no need to ask. Whatever comfort he tried to offer was only surface level- it didn’t stop the fact that he was willing to cut her to shreds, likeness to his beloved child or not.

Sofia was done with her whipping soon after.

~~~

When Svetlana was very little- maybe three or four, though this memory was hazy- she had gotten a hold of one of her mother’s cookbooks. It had been the one full of beautiful hand-drawn pictures of delicious food and places all over the country, with the centerpiece being the beautiful capital.

Little Svetlana had taken a look at the pierogi recipe next to an elaborate painting of Saint Petersburg and decided that she was going to cook dinner for once. She wasn’t clear on what the logic was for it, or how she even managed to find half of the ingredients at a level she could actually reach (or if they were even the right ingredients since she didn’t learn how to read until she was about twelve), but she remembered trying to pull a rough clay pot off of the counter.

Like all disasters that are bound to happen with toddlers involved, it shattered right at her feet. The sound had been enough to make her gasp, and she remembered putting her hands to her mouth to cover the sound, in case her mother had heard.

Then, even with the footsteps hurrying, Svetlana had childishly decided that she could still clean and fix it. She immediately cut her palm, almost to the bone, when trying to snatch an especially sharp edge.

Her mother had found her, shaking and shivering while fighting the urge to cry while red dripped from her pudgy hand.

The first words out of her mother’s mouth were, “Are you okay? Does it hurt…?” Not “what have you done,” and not “look what’s been broken-”- just a question as she knelt beside Svetlana and took her bleeding hand in both of hers, wide-eyed fear settled over her face.

Her parents were already older. She made them worry then, and she was making them worried now.

But now, the focus was on the feeling of the leather against her back, beating away at single spots as if each new strike was forcing a shard of pottery into her flesh. It cut deeper and deeper, and Svetlana gave everything into trying nothing to cry out against it.

When she felt the bleed start to seep out, tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

She did her best not to cry.

~~~

“Alright. We’re done.”

“...”

“I won’t tell anyone you were crying.”

“...”

"I'll just say this... I'm sorry."

~~~

Sofia was the one to tend to Svetlana’s wounds instead of the rough nurse with the contempt for female prisoners that usually did it. Someone’s arm had to have been twisted for that to happen, but Svetlana didn’t really care to dwell on it.

For someone so callous and rough around the edges, Sofia’s large hands were surprisingly gentle and precise. Blood was wiped in clean strokes, replaced with a stinging antiseptic that Svetlana grit her teeth against. It stung, still, and fresh tears threatened to spill over her bottom lashes, but Svetlana swallowed them down. Loathe as she was to admit it, Sofia had been right. It hurt like hell, but afterward, it was easier.

When Sofia finally spoke, it wasn’t to tease or taunt. She just asked, “Was this your first time ever being hit like that?”

Svetlana nodded.

Her parents had never done more than smack her hands. Even on the road, she had been handled delicately by those she came across, and the most she’d gotten were bruises and stubbed toes. Other than the bullet by her ear and the chafing of manacles in the prison, this was her first time being tortured, and it was certainly the first time she’d been hurt this badly.

“You did well for yourself,” Sofia said, reaching for the bandages.

Svetlana choked on a quiet sob.

She wasn’t sure why that was what did her in, in the end. During the course of her beating, only a few stray tears were squeezed out of her eyes. Even during her most turbulent fights with that man, when they’d screamed at each other until they were hoarse and she felt she was never going to find any way to advance forward, she never cried from frustration. Even when she stayed up late on her most homesick nights, nostalgic and nauseous because she was afraid that the further she moved away the more she would forget her parents’ faces, she never wept.

But having Sofia gently press cool gauze into her aching back, smoothing a hand gently over the tender skin, Svetlana was the closest she’d ever been to breaking down. Sofia had such genuine words for her, and then Svetlana turned out to be too weak to deserve them.

Pressing a hand to her mouth to muffle herself, eyes blurring against the onslaught, she tried to keep herself quiet. Tried to ignore the little, bare hints of a whine slipping out and tried to keep from trembling and making Sofia’s job any harder than it must have already been.

“You asked why I stayed earlier, even though I could leave at any time,” Sofia said, and Svetlana bit into the meat of her palm, cutting off a pained gasp when Sofia applied the bandage around an especially sore spot. She still wanted to quiet herself- but, she also wanted to listen, now that Sofia was actually speaking to her. Not in riddles or jests or nagging- but really speaking to her.

“You know the men around me need me- not the wardens and guards, but the prisoners,” Sofia said, pulling and ripping more bandages. Svetlana was facing away, but from the sound of that rip, it was likely being pulled by the woman’s teeth. Even now, she could be a damn animal.

Sofia paused for a moment as if attempting to choose her words carefully. Then she said, “The prisoners here know that they need me, and know that I could leave them at any time- but because I want to, I stay right where they need me. Women like me… there is no happiness in womanhood, for those like me. You still have a chance-”

Svetlana couldn’t help the near-hysterical laugh that bubbled out of her. “Happiness as a woman? What the hell would I need that for?”

“It’s not about if you need it,” Sofia said patiently, voice tinged with something strange and nostalgic that Svetlana couldn’t even begin to place. “It’s about if you want it.”

When Svetlana didn’t say anything, Sofia continued. “If you don’t want it, people act all kinds of ways about it. A lot of men don’t know how to handle a woman like that if they think they can still have power over her.”

“Where…” Svetlana’s voice cracked slightly, and she cleared her throat before starting again, “Where is this going, exactly?”

“It’s going to the easiest answer imaginable,” Sofia said, a smile creeping back into her voice. “I’m here because I want to be by my men’s side, so we can fight on the day we all can escape. I only go where I want to- and I only want to be where I’m needed as myself.”

“... Only what you want, huh…” Svetlana said and, thankfully, it seemed her tears had finally dried. She turned to face Sofia and Sofia, mischief glinting in her eye, took out a handkerchief for Svetlana to take. Wiping away her own tears, Svetlana said, “I don’t know how that’s supposed to be any kind of lesson. I was going to do that anyway.”

“Oh, I know- you’re a brash little shit, I’ll give you that.” Sofia snorted, eyes crinkling at the corners. “All I’m saying is, we’re not so different, you and I…”

“Ew.” Svetlana deadpanned, self consciously covering her chest. “I’d rather that not be the case, thank you.”

“No respect! I swear.” Sofia huffed, but it was with more amusement than anything. Honestly… out of everything that had happened that day, even with her own spectacular failure, Svetlana felt a lot better than she had in a long time.

So before Sofia could get up and start putting things away, Svetlana hazarded a question. “... what are you needed for here?”

Sofia’s eyes twinkled with some pleasant surprise as she leaned forward, looking as youthful as any girl Svetlana had seen working as a servant out in the town. “Now there’s an interesting question- you see, there’s a war going on out there that you don’t even know about…”

Sofia spoke, fire bleeding into her words and passion sparking in her eyes.

Svetlana listened.

#golden kamuy #golden kamui #sofia golden hand #svetlana golden kamuy #fanfiction #my writing #fluff and angst #hurt/comfort #character study #torture tw

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chokefriends · 5 years

Text

Hall Pass

ZoSan modern AU fragment with cute boyfriend banter and light bondage. It's just 3+ kinds of trash, porny, giddy and fluffy, I cant stand myself

Explicit, no warnings.

Read below or on AO3, I’m Ossicle!

Sanji blew through Zoro's front door swinging his keys on one finger, wearing a bloody oxford and a slightly frantic look.

“Mossman, I need a lemon zester and one hell of a hall pass.”

Zoro paused mid-crunch, hanging by the knees in the kitchen doorway, and took out one blaring ear bud. “...Whose ass??”

“Idiot. Move.”

Zoro crunched up so Sanji could get by underneath him. He checked his watch. Weird… the workaholic never left his shop before eight if he could help it. Sanji ran this artisanal butcher shop / charcuterie / whatever, the hipster kind with twelve different ground meat mixtures on ‘tap’ and all these tatted-up, lumberjack-looking shop boys manfully wrangling sausage links in the shopfront. Hence the blood-spattered shirt—chronic nosebleeds.

Zoro twisted around to watch the blond ransack his kitchen drawers, apparently for some ass-related thing.

“Turkey baster somewhere in there, if that's—”

Sanji stopped and shot him a look. “What? No. I'm looking for a lemon zester. And a hall pass… which, let me just say, I VERY fucking deserve after this hell week…”

Zoro plugged the earbud back in and resumed his upside down workout routine. Sanji was just getting himself into one of his rambling Sanji States. Probably just work-related; probably not requiring Zoro's input… He crunched and counted until, a few reps later, a blue eye was suddenly glaring in front of his face.

Sanji tugged an ear bud out of Zoro’s head.

“Lemon zester.”

Zoro dangled, and thought carefully. “The vibrating thing?”

“NO, you houseplant. The thing that's like a cheese grater but with little bitty teeth.”

“...and whose ass is this for?”

Sanji threw the earbud down and went back to tearing apart the kitchen.

Zoro swung down from the door-mounted bar and left him to it. He took a quick shower, and settled in the sectional couch with his sweatpants on and a pile of physio grading next to him. This class he was TAing for was fuckin brutal, tests every week and three exams, all graded by a small team of grad students who were rumored to be robots but were actually masochists. Just constant work; Zoro loved it.

Sanji finally found what he was after and slid over the top of the couch to join the stoic gradbot. He held his prize and looked at Zoro, eyebrows raised expectantly. This usually meant that he thought Zoro was being too stoic and should say something.

“...Bitty cheese grater,” Zoro commented.

“It’s a lemon zester.”

“For what.”

“Getting laid,” Sanji stated matter-of-factly.

Well. It wasn't the weirdest come-on the erratic gourmand had ever tried.

“Okay.” Zoro pulled the pert ass into his lap and went for it.

“Heyhey, hold it, hooold it, that’s not what I came here to… or actually… yeah, hm…” Sanji trailed off as strong hands grabbed at him greedily. His belt buckle clunked to the floor.

“Heh. Lemon zester…” Zoro shook his head. “You don’t have to stash all your weird kitchen stuff here just for an excuse to come over anymore. You know that right, Cook?”

“I know! Just… habit…”

“Mhm.” Zoro focused on the deepening arch of the back in front of him. He pulled the shirttails free and let his hands wander up underneath.

Sanji cleared his throat and tried to focus. “I was tryna ask for a thing, though. Uh…”

“Yeah? Something in particular?”

“Oh yeah, hall pass.”

Zoro paused for a second in case Sanji felt like making this easy and just saying what the hell that was. But the guy was either being coy or was getting distracted by the hand in his pants.

“That a position?” Zoro prompted.

“Hm? No, it's… do you seriously not know what a hall pass is?” Sanji looked over his shoulder.

“Well, sorry if I don't know all the gay lingo like some scene queens—”

He could just feel the force of Sanji's eyeroll. “It's not even! It's such a straight boy thing, you've definitely heard it, bro-y scene like yours. Like ‘bruuuh, Vegas bruh, got a hall pass from the ol ball and chain,’ ugh.”

Zoro frowned. “Great. So am I the bro or the ball and chain.”

Sanji clambered around to face him instead. “Oh my god don't be ugh about it. I'm just observing how your muscle nerd crowd is a whole thing. Don't get off-topic.”

“Well you're the one calling people bros, so—”

“Well you're the one going to grad school for gym, so.”

Sanji crossed his arms. He was doing his pout thing, as though Zoro was the one being difficult. And he was still all disheveled and covered in blood… A familiar tic went through Zoro's eye at the exact same time as that other tic went through his dick.

“Other way. Face the other fuckin way.” Zoro turned the blond away from him and got back to work on his pants.

“Nope, you're dealing with this FACE.” Sanji stubbornly resisted.

They ended up on the floor really quickly, as usual, Sanji trying to mush his face against Zoro’s, and the latter trying to pin him facedown. It did kinda seriously irritate Zoro that his superior crunch power didn’t seem to count for anything against the noodle-boned butcher. The guy knew it, too, and liked to aggravate his sparring partner with non-standard moves.

“If I give you a forehead-hickey, I win,” the clinging blond declared.

“NO.”

“C’mere, sexy forehead.”

“NO.”

It fuckin paid off once Zoro did get him under control, though. The satisfaction was nigh euphoric. This time Zoro got the butcher’s hands behind his back and a knee in his spine, and Sanji gave up his squirming with a laugh. He hmmed against the rug and allowed his hands to be secured with the ever-ready bandana. He was hard and eager when Zoro turned him back over and settled heavily overtop of him, smothering him with a deep kiss.

“It’s been a second,” Sanji breathed when Zoro let up.

“Yeah. I’ll go slow.”

“Mm. Kay but how about not slow.”

“Heh…”

Zoro went ahead and ignored that request. He liked to draw out the lead-in once he’d gotten to this point, to get back at the guy for all his ridiculous shit, but also because Sanji just got more and more fuckable the more desperate and disheveled he got.

Sanji blew his long curtain of blond hair out of his eyes and glared down at the too-slow proceedings between his knees. “Put the fucking dick in your mouth, fucking put. The fucking dick. In your fucking… ah!… fuck, ah…”

That was the third finger, and Zoro let himself grin a little. He watched the long limbs tense and un-tense as he eased his hand in and out. He gave the needy dick another swift, brief massage with his tongue, and stifled a laugh when Sanji kicked him.

“You want me to fucking beg??”

“Yeah, I’m a fan of that,” Zoro nodded his encouragement.

“DICK IN YOUR MOUTH.”

“That’s not begging…”

“DICK,” Sanji insisted.

Zoro laughed and came up to kiss the irate butcher. “...Dick??”

“Dick.”

With his slight smile widening into a full-on grin, Zoro got up so he was straddling Sanji’s shoulders. The blue eye widened, “Not THAT di—hhhhnnnck”

“Hm what?”

Sanji gave a deeply sarcastic roll of his eyes. He couldn’t say much else, though.

Zoro eased in deeper, feeling himself gradually hardening in the wet mouth with its quick tongue.

“C’mon, get me hard.” He pulled back a little so Sanji could swallow and adjust his head, then pushed in deep enough to nudge the back of his throat. “C’mon. You want me to fuck your throat? Suck.”

A cocky eyebrow challenged him to do just that, and Zoro obliged. He watched the smooth lips strain around his cock and the blue eyes start to water. Zoro fit a hand around the back of his neck and angled it way up, so he could hold him still and fuck down into his face. Sanji started making those urgent sounds he was after, and he felt himself edging already… fuck.

“Mm! Mmmm!!… ah!” Sanji’s eyes were screwed shut and his mouth wide open, gasping air, as Zoro pulled out of his mouth and hurried to get a condom on and lube himself up.

“Face or floor?”

“Face, cuz deal with it,” Sanji determined, stubborn streak still fully intact despite his flustered flush.

“Fair.” Zoro left him on his back.

He parted the well-toned thighs and braced a hand on each one, pressing Sanji's legs so wide apart they were touching the floor. God, this body was just made to be fucked, it was so smooth and yielding. Zoro’s dick found the tight hole, and it opened up around him just as smoothly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, steadying himself, “I can’t believe how flexible you are. I could do anything to you…”

Sanji made a little scoffing noise between heavy breaths. “Think you could you shut up and fuck me, though?”

Zoro leaned into him suddenly and heavily, without answering. That got a harsh intake of breath, but it wasn’t yet the desperate gasping he was going for. He canted his hips and dragged out frustratingly slow. He really wanted to let go and just… fucking pound the hell out of the trim, pliable body. Just as much as Sanji wanted him to do it. But he was the disciplined one, here, and also, holding out on the other was a pleasure in itself.

He slid into that perfect heat over and over, deliberate and deep, until the blond’s voice got that wild edge to it. He was as vocal when he was being fucked as the rest of the time, and it got to Zoro just as much. In a good way—Zoro usually prided himself on being all quietly composed during sex, but Sanji had this way of completely letting himself go, and taking the other with him.

“Zoro, Z-zoro ah! Ahh!”

“Shit… ah, fuck, Cook…” Zoro gathered up both legs and hooked them over his shoulder, so he could fold Sanji almost in half and sink straight down into him. Their faces were close together, they were breathing each other’s air, hardly even hearing what was being gasped out between breaths. Sanji was saying something like “Want you, want you, want you,” and Zoro was probably just saying “Cook” and “fuck,” but even he wasn’t sure.

“I’m gonna come,” Zoro gasped out finally.

“Fuckin cmon then, ah…”

It felt like he could just come and come like this. Everything was so tight and hot, Sanji was kissing him and he was getting lightheaded. Zoro waited until his ears stopped ringing and his blood pressure went down a little. He opened his eyes to Sanji’s flushed face, still glassy-eyed with need. He loosened the bandana and shuffled down to put that dick in his mouth, as requested.

“Yes… fuck…” Sanji twisted out of the ties and crossed his arms under his head, shuffling until he was comfortable.

They’d been fucking for a few months now, more and more regularly, and Zoro pretty much knew how to get him off any time. It was better to make him wait a little, though. Winding the guy up so tight like this, he'd go over the edge like a ton of bricks. Zoro swallowed him down smoothly and then pulled back off until he was massaging the head with his tongue, sucking hard. He jammed two fingers into his ass at the same time, hard and even, like Sanji wanted when he was close. And he was so, so close right now… He’d hooked both legs over Zoro’s shoulders and was hanging on, tensed and swearing.

He came and was wordless for a full minute while Zoro worked every last drop out of him with the same steady insistence.

“...Unnh… hh…”

Zoro grinned to himself a little as he caught it all in his mouth. Catching Sanji’s eye, he licked stray drops from his fingers and swallowed it all with deliberate relish.

“Fuck… that’s hot,” Sanji commented, letting out a spent laugh and flexing the feeling back into his toes.

“Mm…” Zoro sighed and sat up to consider his own state. His dick was half-hard again, come leaking down inside the condom. He watched Sanji lying back and trying to recover his head, still all hazy and addled with pleasure. So fucking fuckable.

He pulled the blond over by the arm and nipped his ear.

“Ah!”

“Can I do it hard?”

“I dunno. Can you?” Sanji needled him. “Ow.”

Zoro gave a soothing suck at the chomped ear. “I dunno, can I?”

“Haha… mmm. Floor?”

“Yeah…” Zoro moved on to sucking at his neck urgently, massaging what was now a fully hard erection.

Sanji laughed at him. He turned over facing the floor and braced on his forearms while Zoro fit a new condom on. “I should make you beg instead. Shitty dog, practically humping my leg.”

He quieted for a moment as Zoro pushed him flat and ground into him in one insistent push.

Sanji steadied himself and chuckled, “Ahh… haha. Here, boy. Now sit—mff!”

Lying atop of him like this, Zoro had his hands free, so he clamped one over Sanji’s mouth.

“Shhh… stay. Good boy.”

Sanji huffed an outraged sigh through his nose at the order. But by the way he moaned into Zoro's hand and arched his back into Zoro's driving thrusts, he was probably gonna come again soon.

“Why do you always wanna cuddle on the floor?” Sanji teased him, afterward. “There’s pillows right up there. I got them for a reason.”

“Just stay still a second,” Zoro mumbled from somewhere between Sanji's shoulder blades, thick arms wrapped around the narrow waist.

“I wanna smoke.” Sanji was already fidgeting and trying to get up.

Zoro tightened his arms so he was stuck.

“Why the floor, is all I'm saying,” Sanji objected.

“Well you're the one who likes to fuck on the floor, so.”

“Well you're the one who flips furniture when they get too into it, so.”

Zoro grinned to himself. “Yeah… You make yourself hell to wrangle, to be fair.” He shifted up a little so he could hook his chin over Sanji's shoulder.

Sanji laughed. “You like it.”

“Mm. I like fucking you into the ground, yeah.”

“Ah...” Sanji shifted and exhaled sharply at the lips on his neck. “You angling for another round? That why we're still down here in the fuck zone?”

“Nah, just comfortable.” Zoro let up his hold a little, so Sanji could turn in his arms and settle in facing him. “Hey, so what's this ass thing you want?”

“Hall. Pass.” Sanji sighed, and then swallowed. He was suddenly tense in Zoro's arms. “Uh. So first of all, the lemon zester. I need it to lend to this… individual? So I have an excuse to go over and say heyy? Cuz earlier he was kinda like, heyyyy, lookin for a lemon zester. And this is NOT how I normally do things, okay. I'm pretty much the king of cling. But this guy is Christian Slater-level exceptional, and it'll be just once because honestly I'm getting a Christian-Slater-in-Heathers vibe more than anything and that is a sometimes-food…”

Zoro listened for a while, then counted to ten once he'd gotten lost, and tried to get back into the conversation. “...what?”

Sanji frowned. “What part is unclear.”

“The… hall pass.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sanji muttered to the ceiling.

“No, literally just use words that go together.”

“I have been! I've been so patient and thorough!”

Zoro reached for his sweatpants, lying on Sanji's other side. “I'll just fucking Google it. Gimme my phone.”

“N-no wait. Uh!” Sanji extended a long leg and kicked the pants across the room.

“...This is getting weird,” Zoro growled, getting up. “Did you not eat all day again? You know it's real ironic how often you forget to feed yourself.”

“I did forget but that's not the issue here!”

“Let go of my leg.”

“No!”

Zoro sighed at the weirdo hugging his ankle. “Okay. What's a hall pass.”

“It's when you ask your otherwise committed, exclusive partner for a one-time go-ahead to bang someone else because Christian Slater wants to get in your pants and it's a fucking sin to pass that up!”

Zoro sat down heavily on the couch. Sanji slowly came to sit next to him, legs folded and hands in lap.

“One-time,” Sanji insisted. “Christian Slater.”

“...actual Christian Slater?”

“Oh, uh, no, I just mean he's really hot and kinda weird.”

Zoro rubbed his head, his mind grappling with several, very urgent aspects of this matter. There was one part that really stuck out, though.

“So you'd say we're… exclusive? And stuff?” Zoro wondered, a little wild-eyed.

Sanji frowned. “Aren't we? Wait, are you—”

“Nono, I'm not seeing anyone else. I just mean like, we're… in a committed thing? You'd say?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Sanji confirmed, just realizing that he'd maybe skipped several steps in this whole talk. “Yeah, like, dating.”

“Oh, okay.”

Sanji was getting flustered again. “I mean, I guess I don't know if you wanna be… that way. We don't have to. It's so status quo, right? Ugh, haha, very not radical haha…”

“Nono, it's good. That's good.”

Zoro wasn't sure what else to say, and Sanji was looking at him expectantly, so he gave him a little peck.

Sanji seemed to accept this. “Okay good. Good talk. Um. So… all of it is good?”

“All of what.”

“Can I… the hall pass?”

Zoro frowned and thought. “Oh that. I don't know. I need to think some more.”

Sanji shuffled a little and Zoro realized he was stealing a look at the clock. “How much more.”

“Well more than a few fucking minutes!”

“Hour?”

“You're planning to go right now??”

“I was… Um.” Blue eyes wandered around the room. “Or not. If that's weird.”

“You’re weird. You're always so weird.” Zoro grumbled, trapping him in another bear hug and toppling them both to the couch. Sanji huffed but Zoro held on, an unfamiliar feeling making him stubborn.

Sanji waited til the count of ten, then went about disentangling himself from the other, anxious for a smoke.

“Let go of my leg,” Sanji complained.

“No.”

“Are you getting clingy?”

“No…”

He laughed. “Monosyllabic Marimo.”

Zoro wasn't budging on the time-to-think issue, so Sanji had to message whoever it was to postpone the lemon zester handoff. He'd already delegated things at the shop, so he actually had a rare evening free. He made snacks, and Zoro dragged the duvet over to the couch.

“So Christian Slater is a psychopath,” Zoro offered his thoughts on the nonsense movie they were watching, “But also, the Heathers seem like a high school Resident Evil situation. I'd purge with fire too.”

“Um, Christian Slater is a misunderstood super sweetheart with a minor murder problem,” Sanji objected. “And the Heathers are fabulous beyond reproach.”

“Her scrunchie matches her lipstick,” Zoro complained.

“That’s how you know she's a powerbitch.”

“I could tell from the shoulder pads.”

They watched Christian Slater shoot some more frat boys.

“Okay, not terrible,” Zoro approved by the end. “But I'm not convinced that Christian Slater should be allowed to fuck anyone, let alone MY otherwise exclusive, committed… thing.”

“You can say boyfriend,” Sanji offered.

“... 'Boyfriend,’” Zoro tried the word out, and immediately felt that stubbornness spike again. “Hmph.”

“Well this actual guy’s not a psycho killer, okay? He just… likes to give the impression that he is?”

“You're not selling this super well,” Zoro informed him.

Sanji considered the matter. “Well, what if you met the guy and saw that he was okay? You might already know him, actually, we have friends in common.”

“I doubt that,” Zoro grouched. “Who is it then.”

“Okay so you know your stupid orc-looking friend with the hair?”

Zoro spat out his cucumber water. “KIDD is Christian Slater??”

“Oh my god NO. It's his boy-thing, not him. As if I'd let that get its dick in me, plllease. He literally clanks when he walks.”

“He’d just be getting his dick in you by proxy,” Zoro put on his own pout face. “And I didn't know he had a boy-thing.”

“Yeah, apparently Christian Slater is into orc ass…”

Something occurred to Zoro. “This guy's a top?”

Sanji thought. “I guess…? He made it pretty clear how he'd like to do me in particular, so I assume—”

“Whoooaa, what if Kidd's a bottom,” Zoro interrupted.

“Hah. I doubt it. He’s always talking like he's the one getting his dick in everyone and everything… Christian Slater’s probably vers.”

“Nope, Kidd's a pillow-biter, it's settled,” Zoro settled back smugly. “And I can leg-press more than him.”

He got a pillow thrown at his smug green head by an exasperated boyfriend. “Yeah, yeah, you're supreme dick, dumbass. Biggest, sweatiest package around. Fucking typical top...”

“Damn right,” Zoro caught the next pillow. “Well I'm feeling rosier about this whole hall pass thing.”

Sanji paused with a cushion in hand and raised a flawless eyebrow. “Really? I literally just had to talk up your little guy?”

“Yeah, heh. Just make sure Christian Slater knows how monster this meat be.” Zoro patted his junk.

“I’ll bring it to his attention,” Sanji shook his head. But then he laughed and put his head on Zoro's lap. “Boyfriend,” he murmured.

“Boyfriend,” Zoro affirmed.

#zosan #zosan fanfic #ao3fic #one piece modern au #fic fragment #Zoro calls his dick Monster Meat #Sanji is a ho for Heathers #back to my zosan roots for a sec here while i burn out on inspiration for my kidlaw fics

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sugar-petals · 6 years

Text

BTS as submissive boyfriends

a/n: A thought experiment to envision Bangtan as subs in your daily and sexual life.

warning: Dom/sub dynamics, femdom!reader

Jimin

Jimin is dashing as a submissive, it suits him well. An eager pleaser who memorizes all of your wishes exactingly, always giving more than taking because it fulfills him. Jimin addresses you as his one and only Queen, serenades and serves you with all of his allure. He’ll make you a bubble bath after you get home, write countless love letters, provide all sorts of comfort especially on your period, organize an evening to watch a cute movie, kiss and hug you tight the way you love it. But don’t be fooled, he’s volatile. This man will walk through your house naked all day, too. You know him, he draws a lot of confidence out of approval, so he’ll really groom himself. If you love his natural black hair and soft tummy, he’ll do everything to look like that. If you enjoy his ample legs, he will train each day without fail, and proudly display the results here and there through his ripped blue jeans.

In bed, Jimin’s divide between soft and sensual shows all the more. He is immensely passionate and sacrificing, all of his avid affection is yours. Prepare for a myriad of curious questions, he wants to know everything you’re into, all the dos and don’ts. This type of devotion is made for someone intense and dominant because it requires guidance as well as receptivity. Your voluptuous Jimin can massage your feet, kiss your breasts, eat you out like it’s nothing. And he wants to do more, more, more, to satisfy you all the time because he loves seeing you gratified. Imagine how many special hours he will dedicate to that. “Love and sex” is his life mantra - that means all of your tensions in these realms will be alleviated. And listen. What you can look forward to the most is how he puts his lusciously gyrating dancer hips and thighs to practice.

Taehyung

The light of your existence - you won’t ever be bored again. Taehyung will enrich your life effortlessly because he makes it so interesting and positive. Compliments and good conversation within your quality time are his strong points: He will always be mindful that you will receive plenty of this, since you become his unchallenged priority. Taehyung will talk with you at length to entertain and cheer you up with his witty mannerisms straight out of his video games and keep you up to date with literally the entire world. He adds some excitement through cheeky flirting and cuddling (Taetae is the clingiest member. If you are deprived of hugs he’s perfect for you), soothing you with his deep, deep voice which he’ll deliberately bring out. He will send you selcas with his smexy bandana creations, funny filters, and a plunging fashionable neckline to add pizazz to it. He texts with the cutest emojis and always encourages you since he believes in your potential. “Mommy, fighting”, he’ll write, and you know he smiles his rectangle smile as he sends it to you.

Erotic hours with Taehyung will echo a similar feeling. He is down for every conceivable endeavor, but it stays light. Unless he switches on his temptation mode, that is. All in all, nothing is ever confined to the bedroom alone - it seems that his affinity goes towards the bathroom instead. Sensual showers and baths with lots of foam, voilà, Taehyung will be all cute and bashful for you. The kitchen is the second favorite where you will have some fruit adventures, you can imagine how creative he gets. Tae also amuses you with his dirty talk, so many clever innuendoes. He can bring everything sexual to an intellectual level, which will lead to the most juicy messages on your fridge. Talking about juicy: have you seen Taehyung’s hands? They will make you feel so, so good. In the morning, at noon, at night. And that voice is sure to push you over the edge every time.

Yoongi

The fascinator. A very private man of unwavering loyalty. To share this hermit-like intimacy with you is his gift - he’s exclusive to you, undemanding, very minimalistic. Yoongi is an immensely shrewd shadow worker and secret keeper. None of your problems will remain unsolved, even if he stores a lot in his head only to reveal it much later. You have all the power, and Yoongi the master plan to solidify your reign. He really thinks long-term which makes him very sure about his commitment. Yoongi knows your future and how to make it good: By loving you. Foreseeing the hard times, he becomes proactive. His devotion also shows in the way he gives you presents as often as he can. A personal mixtape, a ticket to your favorite singer’s concert. He works hard, so hard. Usually the critical type, he is able to let down his guard with you. He can share his heart without having to protect himself with coldness or sharp comments. Trust me when I say that he will shower you with the most sincerely endearing things. He’ll also guard you from outside malice and back you up. If you are struggling with any problem concerning your state of mind, Yoongi will sacrifice everything he has to make you healthy because he knows how it is. Know that you are his Empress, ready to be revered every day.

You will fully realize that when he gets intimate. It is true, you have South Korea’s most talented tongue between your legs and at your whim. His job lends him ridiculous stamina, Yoongi can make you groan and shake all night. What he does not utter or express through writing during the day, he will make up for with a plethora of lavish tongue movements. Sweet Suga might take his time and finish intensely or vice versa if that is your wish. Yoongi is not afraid of taboos and extremes - in fact, he needs them. You can lead and dominate him completely, he loves to feel your impact. He can finally let go of his troubles like this. Remember how he said he likes Jimin and J-Hope for their extroverted energy and strong vibe as it makes him snap out of his blues. Getting tied up or teased with toys, he craves it all. Last but not least, a little secret: It is safe to say that this sexy vampire will lick your sensitive neck to some new orgasmic heights.

Namjoon

A yielding and steadfast partner for you, highly intuitive. This jovial man will muse about you as the meaning of his life, and how divine you are, like a Priestess blessing him. You’re always on his mind and he’ll let you know about it artistically, no matter how cheesy it gets. I am sure he could open a museum dedicated to you as the overarching theme. Joon is also going to be a feast for your eyes. Chic and futuristic, he models the neatest couture for you, and helps you to buy your own so you can be an edgy couple. He will wear stylish bags and his eccentric sunglasses, and you call him babe. Occasionally, Rapmon will share his music with you and write an entire collection of raps that describe his feelings. Namjoon is a poet, philosopher, and psychologist, striving to understand all of your motivations and dreams. He’s your biggest fan in a way, and heals your soul. Whatever makes you chuckle becomes his daily task - he’ll even break some trivial items on purpose because it makes you laugh yourself to tears.

Namjoon in bed is not very agile precisely due to his lanky stature and those clumsy moments. Do you know what that means? You can top the living hell out of him. That’s right. Joonie is just fine on his back having you ravage him, and he’ll whisper the lewdest, intelligent things to you. If you’ve studied his lyrics, you know how far he wants to go. Though you have to know that his heart and sexual demeanor are much softer than his image suggests. Like Jimin, he is a romantic in search of a woman who can conquer him, who can get him into the heat of the moment, out of his head in the clouds. You can control and tantalize him and his delicious, sexy body however you want, all he loves is to see you delight in your power position. With submissive Namjoon, I guarantee you will have tons of fun.

J-Hope

Hobi is tremendously bright, empathetic, and gentle. Thus, he’s perfectly in tune with your needs as his character is so reactive. If you are an introvert, this is your perfect match. J-Hope will energize you one-to-one or in a group because he’s the paramount socialite, and once you’ve charged enough sunlight, he’ll show you his peaceful and relaxed side which can also be quite hedonistic. Like Jungkook, he will indulge you, make you feel good the way you never experienced it before. No matter the circumstance: He’ll say or text “I love you” at least once a day in the most uplifting tone, often addressing you with sugary sweet names on top of that. You’re his Aphrodite, and Hoseok will never make you doubt that the arrows of Eros have reached his heart. He’ll always get so excited how amazing you are, conveying it with his animated body language, joking and jumping around. And even in the serious moments, he will do everything in his power to make you happy.

That includes creating a very vivid sexual life with you. He’s not perfectly submissive like Yoongi and Jimin, but more like Taehyung, in a glamorous fashion. If he arrives with his hair sleeked or swiped back with his glorious forehead on full display, you know what’s going on. This guy will really put on a show for you. Just because you two are getting intimate it doesn’t mean he’s no longer an entertainer. You can sit on his lap when he’s in his shiny sequin suit, and run your hands through his meticulously styled hair (Hobi is fastidious with self-care, you will never have any complaints). Did you see pictures of him in suspenders? Blazing hot! He’ll wear these underneath his jackets because you are really into them. And if you don’t like to keep it classy here and there, get flexible. Literally, because this is what Hoseok’s body is. You can have sex in the most incredible positions, no limits. He really is such a well-rounded and well-versed (heh) sexual partner, and very zestful for that matter.

Jin

Class act. A flawless gentleman. The ace of Bangtan, with better manners than any butler. It is not chivalry in a sense that he interferes with your business that you can perfectly handle on your own. No, he rather has the nerve to absorb all daily life burdens from you in private to assure that his goddess is never stressed out too much. You come home tired and ask for something soothing, he makes you some soup. You rant about someone, he will mediate and understand you. In essence, he provides all the relief you desire. He entertains you generously but also has an open ear and a shoulder to lean on - you can talk to Jin to everything, he can and will be able to deal with it so your safety and well-being is the priority of everything in your relationship. Always responsible and caring, he shops and manages and cleans as good as he can, and rests his gorgeous head in your lap every evening so you can caress him at will.

Now what happens when this handsome fella sleeps with his goddess? He’ll dine you first, and then show his terrifically seductive side. Jin has figured out what arouses you down to a T. For instance, once he slowly strips off his shirt to reveal those chiseled, broad shoulders, there’s no turning back. He can pepper your hot sessions with plenty of his humor to spice it up, you can really feel free to get weird with him as much as you please. In fact, Jin loves a lot of randomness and talking when you two make out. There’s going to be a lot of eye contact involved, too, mixed with many giggles. And now here’s the cherry on top. Jin will often combine your sexual activities with travels and wellness. How does this sound like: You both finance a day at a spa in Jeju, followed by getting some more relief in the hotel afterwards. Though Jin can deliver a massage himself you see. Whenever you ask, this guy will drop everything.

Jungkook

We all know why he hates being called Oppa. The “show your ID” is just a cop-out, Jungkook makes it obvious that he wants a Noona to adore and look up to. Partly, he’s doing it out of sheer fun, he’s playful, nimble. On the other hand, he’ll take it seriously. So he’ll diligently cater to you. For instance, he’ll be your humble yet sultry chef, not missing any opportunity to indulge you with his kitchen skills. He loves to cook because it pleases you so much, especially with an apron tied around his lovely slender hips, moving through the kitchen whistling and singing - he’s a treat, so charming. He’ll spoil you rotten and ask for your approval like this: “Noona tell me, did I do well?” Kookie knows you love his tight shirts and the side part so you can feel up his chest and silky hair. Hence he’ll take some time styling himself, is often seen somewhere ironing or folding the clothes you like on him. And he will style you, too! Cozy Jungkook attends to your locks in particular, he’ll comb and braid them just to hear you sigh under his relaxing hands while you two watch anime. He’ll also massage and tickle you if you demand it, and put on a suave dance as in Rainism to turn you on when you’re in the mood.

So when it comes down to sex: Take him out to your favorite restaurant and you can already see how much of a sensory gourmet he is. He’s not an extreme of sexual naïvity or total overdrive as it may seem. Jungkook will be fairly balanced, in fact. Have you seen how deliberately he manages his own body? The physical territory is where he roams successfully, and he is sure to become a connoisseur of your body in no time. Jungkook will do everything just right, stopping you or himself in whatever hurried tracks to keep it nuanced, healthy, and harmonious. He wants to be your baby boy, attending to every carnal wish that his Noona has. No suggestion or trick is too bizarre for him to make you cum. Because remember: He likes the fun of it. You could be the most awkward person in the world, Jungkook wants to really put you at ease. Thus, sex oscillates between relaxing and steamy. He’ll be so pleasing to your eyes, tongue, and hands with his sculpted body, and that’s just the beginning of it. This man embodies your ecstasy.

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pokemaniacal · 7 years

Text

Pokémon Moon, Episode 17: In Which I Explore The Disreputable Side Of Reality

At the end of the Vast Poni Canyon, the sheer walls open out into an enormous crater, with a stone spire at its centre and a magnificent – albeit ancient and crumbling – staircase leading up to our goal, the Altar of the Moone. The sun is setting when we arrive, and Hapu and her Mudsdale are already at the base of the grand staircase waiting for us… somehow. “If you knew a faster way through the canyon, why didn’t you show us?” I complain as we walk up to her. “This is sort of important.” I pause for thought. “Well, to them, anyway,” I add, jerking my head at Lillie and B. “And deny you the opportunity to face your final trial?” Hapu asks. “Our history tells us that the Vast Poni Canyon trial was the very first ever to be held… and you did a fine job clearing it, just as expected, Chris!” “Only ‘fine’?” I respond, to a chuckle from Hapu and eye rolls from B and Lillie. “Look at the three of you…” Hapu says, contemplatively. “I think this might just work out… No, I am quite sure of it!”

The climb is long, and somehow feels like just as great a journey as the one we’ve just made through the canyon. By the time we’ve reached the top of the thousand stairs to the altar, night has fallen and the moon is rising. I turn to B and Lillie and shrug. “Last chance to do the sane thing and turn around.” Lillie balls her fists. “I’m going to make my mother wake up and see reason. I’m going to make her hear me; I’m going to tell her how I feel; even if I’m not a trainer, I can still do that much!” “Suit yourself…” I look at B. “How about you? You don’t have to risk your life for Guzma; you don’t owe him a damn thing.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt. “Also, if you get hurt, Plumeria will murder me. And…” I pause, and he motions to me to continue. “And… I might let her.” B looks me straight in the eyes, and his face softens a little. “I gotta do this, yo. If Guzma’s boys don’t look out for him, there ain’t no one else left who will. ‘sides, you’ll look out for me too, right, homie?” He’s still wearing his Team Skull bandana over his face, so I can’t see his mouth, but I can tell he’s smiling. “You know, you could also leave, Chris,” Lillie points out. “There are two flutes… I think we only need two people for the ritual… and you don’t have anyone in the beasts’ world to save.” I’m tempted. Very tempted. “Weeeeeell, I’d like to, but… I may be a snarky, sarcastic, mean-spirited coward, but I still have a Pokémon trainer’s honour. Besides, Hapu’s still down there watching.” I jerk a thumb at the base of the spire. “If she sees me ditch you here, I’ll never live it down.” I sigh. “What the hell; let’s get this catastrophe on the road.”

I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting, but what happens next was not it.

The appropriate positions for the ritual are easy enough to identify. In front of us is a circular dais, presumably where the legendary Pokémon will appear when summoned. Past that, there is a raised stage with channels cut through it, water running from some unseen spring through the channels, around two square platforms, and down into a drain somewhere beneath the dais. Over it all looms a huge stone disc icon with the ancient Alolan moon sigil carved into it. On either side of the stage are two obelisks, the one on the right capped with another moon sigil, the one on the left with the Alolan sun sigil – these must mark which flute is supposed be played on which side. Lillie claims that the Sun Flute feels made for her, so she takes the left position, leaving me to take the Moon Flute on the right. We start playing together – Lillie producing a haunting, enchanting melody, while I manage a sort of flat, distressed honking noise that makes both Lillie and B cringe. Fortunately, musical ability turns out to be strictly an optional extra to invoking the powers of the Sun and Moon Flutes. I suppose I expected that, at this point, Lunala would tear its way into our universe through another Ultra Wormhole, bringing with it the infinite night described in the ancient Alolan texts. Perhaps there would be a peal of thunder; perhaps the earth would shake; perhaps Lillie would be possessed and try to destroy the world. Certainly I expected that we might need to battle the legendary Pokémon and subdue it before it would do our bidding.

I did not expect Nebby to wriggle his way out of Lillie’s backpack, float to the centre of the dais, and crack open his metallic “shell” in an explosion of stellar plasma. Nor did I expect his gaseous body to grow, twist, and condense into a huge, dark bat-like shape, its wings a midnight void sparkling with infinite stars.

Calling him a “mouthy little $#!t” that one time may have been a slight miscalculation on my part.

“Nebby!” Lillie cries, dropping the Sun Flute and rushing up to the dais to speak to Lunala. “Th-thank goodness… you’re all right… Please don’t ever do that again!” “Mahina-pea!” Nebby trills happily. Mahina – I know that word; it means “moon” in several of the Polynesian languages. “Not in all of my reading… Never did I ever come across any hint that you would evolve into the Legendary Pokémon…” Lillie says in wonderment, reaching up with one hand to touch the hovering Pokémon. I cough politely. “We have a job to do,” I remind her. Lillie looks around, blinks, and then remembers herself. “Please, Lunala… No… Nebby. Please. I need to see my mother!” “And- and I need to see the boss!” B interrupts. Nebby glares at B, the stars in his wings shining brighter for a minute. “Uh… please.” Nebby floats in place silently for a few seconds, as if deep in thought, then suddenly rises into the air, cries out, and lifts his crescent wings over his head to form a circle. With another warbling cry, he fires an energy beam at the rock spire, bringing an Ultra Wormhole into being. “Well, that was easy,” I say, and take a step towards the wormhole. “Uh… I don’t think that’s what Nebby has in mind,” Lillie interrupts. I turn around. “What do you m-?” Before I can finish speaking, Nebby cries out again and swoops, snatching up me, Lillie and B and flying straight into the wormhole. We pass the threshold, and reality falls apart around us.

When the world stops spinning and my head is no longer filled with flashing lights, I look down to discover, to my delight, that I still have all my important body parts. Lillie and B, by the looks of it, still have theirs too – as does Nebby, who is floating serenely above us. Normalcy ends there. We seem to be in a vast cavern of grey-black stone, filled with pillars of the same rock studded with crystals in a range of dark greens, blues and purples, all lit from above by a distant opening in the cave ceiling. The stone under our feet has an odd, yielding and almost organic quality to it, and my body feels ever so slightly heavier. “…well, we’re not dead…” I say cautiously, worried that saying it out loud will provoke the universe to contradict me. “Although some warning would have been nice,” I add with a glare at Nebby. “Mahin-aaaa!” he replies indignantly. “It’s… more beautiful than I would have expected…” Lillie says, gazing around at the glinting crystal formations. “But the air is so thick here… it… almost hurts to breathe…” I take a deep breath through my nose, then rummage in my backpack for a match. “The atmospheric composition could be different to… well… Earth’s. Honestly it’s a wonder we’re not all choking to death on chlorine fumes or something. Maybe just higher oxygen levels…” I strike the match, and watch the flame, which burns a brilliant orange. “Could be 35% or so. We shouldn’t stay too long, but we, uh… should be fine. I think.” “This place is lit, yo,” B comments. “We gotta gank some of these crystals; we can flip ‘em for big bucks when we get back to Alola.” I look at him curiously. “Uh… I mean… that Professor of yours’ll be left in the lurch, if we don’t get him some of these to research.” “No, no, I like the first idea,” I reply. “Kukui’s never paid me a cent for this $#!t, and I doubt he’s going to start now.” B chuckles mischievously and starts prodding at one of the crystal formations. Meanwhile, Lillie is staring out into the cavern. There are several of the jellyfish-like Ultra Beasts we’ve seen before floating placidly through the air in the distance. “Do you think the Ultra Beasts really are Pokémon…?” Lillie wonders. “Your mother seemed to think so; she’d probably know best.” “But what do you think?” “…I think we should go and find her. Come on.” As we set off into the cavern, Nebby cries out again. “Mahina-a-a-a pe-e-a-a!” Lillie turns around. Nebby hasn’t moved. “What is it? Are you telling us you have to stay there?” “Mahina pea!” “It’s possible that Nebby has to maintain concentration on a specific time and place in our world in order to return us there…” I speculate. “If we disturb him too much we could all wind up in feudal Ransei… or worse.” Lillie’s eyes widen. “Uh… I’m just guessing, of course.” Barely reassured, she turns back to Nebby. “I’m… I’m so grateful to you for bringing us here, Nebby. Thank you! I guess I have to go the rest of the way myself.” “Yo, homies! Get over here!” B’s voice echoes from around a corner.

Lillie and I dash in the direction B’s voice is coming from, and find him face to face with Guzma – evidently in the middle of an argument. Guzma hears our footsteps and looks over at me. “You too? How in the world did you even get to this place?” he demands. “Same way as you did,” I reply. “Nebby.” Guzma doesn’t seem to hear me, just shakes his head and starts pacing in front of us. “I think the boss is losin’ it,” B says quietly. “This place is gettin’ to him; we gotta get him out of here.” “It’s all dark here…” Guzma says fretfully. “There’s beasts everywhere… I tried to catch one of those… those things!” He jabs a finger towards the Ultra Beasts floating in another part of the cavern, then laughs uneasily. “But it… it possessed me!” “Possessed?” I ask. Guzma’s head snaps around and he looks straight at me, eyes wide. “My body! My mind! They started running wild, and I couldn’t do anything about it!” He wrings his hands. “It was like I became someone else, and I finally felt what fear feels like!” “Your mind?” That’s worrying. “Listen very carefully, Guzma; this could be important – when you say ‘possessed,’ do you mean the creature actually entered your body, or that it manipulated you from afar? Were you physically unable to control your body, or did you actually find yourself thinking and wanting things that you normally wouldn’t? Could the same thing have happened to the President?” “The President?!” That somehow scares him even more. “She’s on another level! She’s way far gone! And the rest of us will be too if we stay here!” “Yo, boss-” B says, trying to calm him down. “This place’ll get us all; we’ll all go mad-” “Boss.” “-and we’re all gonna die here, or worse!” “Boss!” “There’s no one scarier than big bad Guzma, and those things that live here, they- they turned my head inside out, man! It’s game over! We-” Suddenly, so quickly I hardly see it, B curls his right hand into a fist and punches Guzma square in the face. Guzma flinches back, clutches a hand to his face, but says nothing – just stares in shock at B… and promptly collapses, unconscious. “Shut up!” B shouts. Lillie gasps and looks back and forth between me and B, her eyes begging me to say something. B notices her shock. “He had it coming,” he explains with a shrug. “I’mma haul this fool back to Nebby ‘fore he wakes up.” I just stare, gaping, at him as he grabs Guzma by the feet and drags him back in the direction we came from. Finally, I turn to Lillie. “…I hope you were paying attention there; it’s your mother’s turn next.”

There are five of the jellyfish-like Ultra Beasts in the next chamber of the cavern. Lillie and I approach cautiously. It’s hard to tell whether they can sense us, since they don’t have any visible eyes and don’t really acknowledge us – until I start hearing their otherworldly demonic whispers. I can’t distinguish any actual words or language, but an impression of their meaning comes across anyway: curiosity, tempered by recognition of something familiar, and a troubling sense of acquisitiveness. They dance around each other for a few moments, then line up in a column and abruptly disappear into thin air. Seconds later, one of them reappears – with Lusamine at its side. “Look at it…” she says, making a sweeping gesture. “The world of my Ultra Beasts… So beautiful… This is the real paradise… A world where the only thing that exists is the love between Nihilego and myself.” “Nihilego,” I repeat. “That’s what you’re calling… it? That’s its name?” “Of course… the Aether Foundation hypothesised Nihilego’s existence and assigned it a name months before we observed it directly, and we’ve learned so much more since then…” “Nihil… ego…” I repeat again. “That which annihilates the self…” The creature’s distant voice whispers around the corners of my mind. I sense acknowledgement, satisfaction in an apt description. Lillie and I exchange an apprehensive glance. Lusamine notices, and laughs. “You think I’m in danger here, don’t you? What a preposterous notion. Just leave. I don’t need you here. Look around you! Look at this beautiful world that I’ve finally come to! You can’t really expect me to go back!” “You always do this…” Lillie says sadly. “Only thinking of yourself and what you want…” “And why shouldn’t I!?” Lusamine retorts. “I can live here in a world filled with only the things that I love!” “Because life isn’t about being surrounded by things you love,” I admonish her. “Life is about resentment, ennui, and pain.” “Wh-? No it isn’t!” Lillie protests. I flash her an indignant glance. “Whose side are you on? Ma’am, if you don’t come back to Earth to keep making Lillie’s pathetic existence a living hell, I’ll have to do it, and I deeply, sincerely cannot be bothered.” Nihilego starts whispering past the insides of my ears again. This time I sense haughty amusement and icy indifference. “Listen, without conflict and change, all growth stops. If you hide in this world from your duties, from your responsibility for your past actions, you are surrendering your potential and your power for an illusion.” I pause for thought. “I mean, unless you’re raising an army of Ultra Beasts to conquer the Earth. Like, in that case I’d have to respect your ambition, and I guess the world could do worse as far as tyrannical dictators go…” “Whose side are you on!?” Lillie demands. “Keeping my options open,” I mutter to her. “You never know; there could be a sweet Dark Princess gig in it for you. The white may have been a short-sighted fashion choice, but we can work with it.” Speaking aloud to Lusamine again, I continue. “Are you really willing to give up every chance you could have of changing the world, for better or worse? The world your son will grow up in? Your daughter?” Lusamine responds with a haughty harrumph. “I don’t care if she is my child or not. I don’t even care anymore if she was loyal to me or not! She is irrelevant! She’s simply not beautiful enough to be worthy of my love, and I don’t need her!” “What does that even mean? What kind of whacked-out standards of beauty are you applying here that your vision of the sublime is a faceless demon space-Tentacruel!?” I pick up a surge of abject confusion from Nihilego, a sense that it should feel insulted but isn’t quite sure why. Lusamine just turns up her nose. “I don’t expect you to understand. Being exposed to Nihilego’s perfection can be overwhelming for people with… limited abilities. Just look at poor, useless Guzma back there. Only my boundless love is worthy of its beauty… just as only it could ever be worthy of me. I’m just sick and tired of lesser beings… sick of Guzma, sick of you, and most of all, sick of my so-called daughter.” She turns her head away and waves her hand as if to dismiss us, but Lillie is having none of that. “I am the one who is sick of you, mother!” she explodes. She seems to have caught her mother’s attention again, but just barely. “Children are not just… just things that belong to their parents! Cosmog and I are not things for you to collect, like in your horrible stasis vaults! We’re not made for you to just discard when you get bored with us!” “How am I different from any Pokémon trainer?” Lusamine counters. “What do you do with a Pokémon you can’t use? You remove it from your party, as you please – just as I did with you. Back when you were small, and would listen to everything I said, you were adorable to me! But you’ve become ugly. Ever since you met this boy… and learned to defy your own mother!” “Uh-? Wait, leave me out of this one! Lillie stole Nebby and ran away before she even met me; you are way overestimating my influence on her there! Uh, ma’am.” Lusamine glares at me, as if only now realising who I am and why I’m here. “Chris! You hateful little trainer! How dare you intrude upon this world that was meant for Nihilego and me! It is not to be borne!” Nihilego’s psychic whispers turn hostile and acidic. “Meant for-? Ma’am, with all due respect, you’re a scientist; you’re an ecologist, for goodness’ sake! You don’t belong here, none of us do; you must know that.” Lusamine laughs, high and mocking. “I don’t belong here? Finally I am exactly where I belong! And with Nihilego’s power, I will show you how wrong you were to come here!” The Nihilego floating next to her flickers out of existence, and its dark whispers instantly retreat from my mind, leaving an ominous silence. Lusamine draws a strange electric-blue Pokéball from inside her dress, and throws it high into the air above her, releasing another Nihilego – this must be the one she summoned at the Aether Paradise. I prepare for battle, motioning to Lillie to get behind me, but Lusamine seems to have other ideas. Instead of ordering an attack, she lifts her arms into the air towards Nihilego, grinning widely as it descends towards her. “…what is she doing?” I ask Lillie, but she just shrugs helplessly. Abruptly, Nihilego drops over Lusamine’s head, enveloping her body in its hanging tentacles. Its blue-white body goes dark, and Lusamine’s hair shimmers as it goes from blonde to purple. Nihilego’s tentacles bulge, becoming muscular and powerful, and the two of them rise up into the air together. “…oh $#!t.” Lusamine laughs, and her voice echoes through our minds like Nihilego’s, but a dozen times louder and more forceful. “NOW… WE ARE ONE… AND YOU ARE NOTHING!” “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to discuss an amicable-” Lusamine gives a crazed shriek of laugher and hurls another Pokéball, calling out her Clefable, before sweeping one of Nihilego’s tentacles around to create an energy eddy that condenses around Clefable in the form of a blazing aura like those of the Totem Pokémon. “If we die here, I swear I’m going to kill you,” I warn Lillie. “With something heavy and covered in spikes.”

Lusamine’s Pokémon are powerful, and her bizarre demon magic makes them nearly overpowering. Her Clefable trades Moonblasts for my Toucannon’s Beak Blasts for several minutes, constantly healing itself with Moonlight, before eventually being worn down. My Decidueye takes a nasty hit from her Mismagius’ Mystical Fire, but manages to strike it down with a Spirit Shackle. After the bout with Clefable, my poor abused Toucannon only manages to wound Lusamine’s Lilligant before being splattered with a Petal Dance, leaving Golisopod to finish it off with First Impression. Golisopod reaches an almost total stalemate against the embodiment of evil, Bewear, thanks to Brick Break’s pathetic damage against Bewear’s cloth body and the stalling power of Bewear’s Pain Split. Eventually I decide to revert to the universal stratagem – Kill It With Fire – and send in Salazzle to burn it to a crisp. Finally, Lusamine’s Milotic comes out, and manages to hold out for a while against my Decidueye thanks to its Recover technique, but never manages to take the offensive for long and eventually falls. Lusamine herself grows more and more incensed with every loss. After recalling her Milotic, she assaults my psyche with another eldritch scream and surges forward to join the battle herself. “HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT!” I yell at her, holding up one hand in a ‘time out gesture. She freezes in mid-air. “WHAT!?” she demands in her terrible echoing voice. “You’re the trainer. You’re not supposed to be part of this battle.” “WE ARE BOTH TRAINER AND POKÉMON! WE ARE ONE; WE ARE PERFECT!” “Even so, it’s cheating for a trainer to directly engage his or her opponent’s Pokémon, according to the official rules of the International Association of Pokémon Leagues, section 33, paragraphs 6 through-” “YOUR PETTY REGULATIONS ARE OF NO CONCERN TO US!” Lusamine lifts one of Nihilego’s tentacles, gathering power for some kind of energy attack. “NOW YOU DIE!” “Well, it was worth a shot… Brace yourselves!” I shout to Lillie and Decidueye. But… the blow never comes. With a piercing screech, Nebby flies in out of nowhere and pulls up in front of Lusamine, who flinches back in shock. His wings incandescent with an infinity of stars, Nebby screams his lungs out in Lusamine’s face and bombards her with waves of moonlight. Nihilego’s body begins to tremble, and Lusamine looks down at herself in rising panic. I’m half expecting her to shout “no, this cannot be!” when finally, in a burst of violet light, Nihilego separates from her and retreats to its Pokéball. Lusamine, standing alone, sways and collapses on the ground. Lillie rushes forward. “Mother! Mother!” She kneels at Lusamine’s side and leans over her, trying to tell whether her mother is breathing. Lusamine’s eyes flicker open. “Lillie…” She reaches up weakly and strokes the side of her daughter’s face. “When did you… start becoming beautiful…?” Her hand falls and her eyes close again. “Is she…?” I ask. Lillie frantically reaches down and feels for a pulse. “She’s alive… But we have to get her out of here.” “We gotta get ourselves outta here, homies!” B shouts, rounding a corner and dragging Guzma’s limp body by the leg, bouncing like a ragdoll. Three Nihilego float after him, emanating an eerie pulsing glow. “We done overstayed our welcome, no joke!” “Uh… Nebby?” I ask. Another two Nihilego blink into view ahead of us; we’re surrounded. “We got what we came for. Time to go!” Nebby lifts his crescent wings into a circle and cries out, and reality shatters around us all over again.

When we rematerialise at the Altar of the Moone, Hapu is there waiting for us, and helps us see to Lusamine and Guzma. Guzma quickly comes to, and gives B an aggrieved look that is immediately stifled by an ominous stare. Looks like Team Skull is no longer his personal plaything. Lusamine seems to be in much worse shape. Her breaths are shallow, her skin clammy, and she doesn’t respond when we try to wake her. At Hapu’s command, the chastened Guzma helps B to lift Lusamine and carry her down the steps of the Altar. I’m about to follow, when Lillie calls me back to the dais, where Nebby is waiting expectantly. “Listen, Chris… Nebby and I have been talking it over, and… I want you to face Nebby as only a trainer can. I want you to give him a ball to call home.” I stare at her in confusion for a few seconds before it clicks. “What, you mean a battle? And… capture Nebby?” She nods solemnly. “I know that Nebby… doesn’t want this journey to end. And I want you to grant that wish!” “Um. Not that I’m not flattered by the offer, but… what about you? You’re basically Nebby’s trainer already; capturing him is sort of a formality at this point.” “But I’m not a trainer. I can’t take Nebby on adventures, or give him fierce battles… I-” “Sure you can. He can be your starter Pokémon.” I look up at Nebby, floating peacefully above the summoning dais, basking in the light of the full moon. “I mean… he’d be an… unconventional choice, I’ll give you that, and in any other region the Pokémon League would probably kick up a stink, but the Alola League is basically just Professor Kukui at the moment. And besides, there are… extenuating circumstances.” “Extenuating-?” “Happens more often than you’d think. Kids with Pokémon-related backgrounds – whose parents are trainers, or professors, or whatever, or there was this one kid back in Kanto one time who was raised by wild Kangaskhan…” I shake my head. “Story for another time. The point is, sometimes kids befriend wild Pokémon before they’re old enough to be trainers, and the Indigo League takes a relaxed attitude if they decide to become partners when the time comes, even if they’re… not what you’d call traditional starter Pokémon.” “But- but I’m not ready to be a trainer! And… I’m not ready to go on another journey. My mother… I need to stay with her, make sure she’s all right…” I sigh. “Fine, fine, I get it. Nebby comes with me. I’ll take care of him.” Lillie smiles widely and starts to thank me, but I hold up a hand to silence her. “But let’s make one thing clear; I am just watching him temporarily, until his real trainer is ready to travel with him again. Deal?” Lillie gets a worried look on her face for a second, but then smiles again. “Deal.” I pull a spare Pokéball from my bag and hold it up to Nebby. “Deal?” I repeat. Nebby trills happily, does a loop in mid air, and vanishes into the ball.

#pokemon #pokemon moon playthrough #lusamine #guzma #nihilego #ultra space #lillie #cosmog #nebby #lunala

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aspiringminimalist · 6 years

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Summer 10x10

From July 17-29th, I participated in a special wardrobe challenge created by Lee of StyleBee called a “10x10,” and in this case, a #Summer10x10. The rules of the challenge are to wear only 10 items for 10 days, with no repeat outfits. These limitations tend to bring forth increased style creativity, mixing items you would’ve never thought to match together before. It’s fun, and it gets your fashion brain wheels turning. Also, summer is my fav season for dressing, so, easy sell!

If you do the math on those dates, you’ll count 13 days, so it was really my #Summer13x13. I knew I had a back-to-back trip planned when this season’s challenge was due to begin so I packed my suitcase accordingly. I know the temperature would vary between 65°-90°, and that I would be mostly doing “city life” activities (concerts, museums, theatre, dining out). Commonly, the 10x10 includes shoes and outerwear; I did not count these items. I used 3 pairs of shoes and a jean jacket in addition to the following 13 items:

v-neck cardigan

black collared tank

striped collared shirt

solid collared tank

striped crop top

floral shirt

leopard crop top

floral kimono dress

floral maxi skirt

black silk dress

lasercut eyelet leather skirt

high waist jeans

high waist brocade shorts

I actually ended up changing clothes on two occasions to go from day to night activities, so these 13 pieces actually yielded 15 outfits! I’ve outlined them below, along with my rating of how comfortable/stylish/utilitarian they felt:

Day 1: 3+12 (+1, as needed) The first day was a travel day, so I knew I needed to be comfortable, limited accessories for the metal detectors. So I chose a shirt with a pattern, unbuttoned the bottom of the blouse and tied it up crop-style, which worked great with my high-waist jeans. I wore my knockoff “Crocs” sandals for easy-off for airport security. Rating: 7/10

Day 2: 2+11 I spent my first day in town just walking around. I tied up this black shirt in front like the other, because the skirt is high-waisted as well. I wore this with my black Bernie Mev wedges and felt high-style, but still ultra comfortable. Rating: 9/10

Day 3: 6+9 (+1 as needed) Movie theatres are cold! But girls nights call for floral, so I went all out. Wore my tan fisherman sandals, and a tan belt to tie it all together. Rating: 8/10

Day 4: 4+12 A chill house party called for a chill outfit. I wore that blouse knotted at the front like the others, and put a matching bandana in my hair, vintage-style. Shoes were my fisherman sandals, which were perfect for my long walk home. Knocked off a point only because I wish I would’ve brought #1, my sweater! Rating: 7/10

Day 5 (day): 8 I found a secret beach in a middle of a park, complete with a lifeguard and everything. I wore my itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini underneath this dress, and it was the perfect easy-on, easy-off outfit, especially with my Crocs. Rating: 10/10

Day 5 (night): 2+12 After the beach I went to co-work with my friend at a rock gym, so I needed to be a bit less dressy than my fab kimono. Wore a hair turban to up the style game, and my Crocs, to stay cajz. Rating: 6/10

Day 6: 1+5+12 This was my debut singing at a jazz club in a new city. I had a matching blue flower in my hair, and Ramsey Lewis’s drummer told me I sounded just like Billie Holiday--and that I was the only one “doing her right.” I only wish I would’ve worn the white skirt, as it would’ve photographed better, and my Bernie Mevs instead of my sandals, to give me some height! Rating: 9/10

Day 7: 7+13 I was surprised that it took my a whole week to wear either of these items, because I really default to them at home. But I’d never worn them together, so this was a new combo for me! For short-shorts mixed with leopard, I wore my fisherman sandals as not to look like a streetwalker (especially as I was walking the streets in a pretty shady part of town so as to find the best Asian food!). Wore my hair in a black turban to cover my rollers. Rating: 7/10

Day 8: 10 Another plane night to another new city, and wanted to be comfortable, but also not be krinkled when I arrived because we were going straight to the theatre. I wore this dress with my jean jacket, and my Crocs (damn security checkpoints!). Tied my hair up in a leopard turban to keep the pincurls in check, and took it off and set the curls free for the show! Rating: 10/10

Day 9 (day): 4+13 It rained this day :( We had planned to go to the beach but it wasn’t in the cards, so before it got too wet, we went to the park, did cartwheels, and then hung around the house all day. I tied the blouse up in a crop-knot as before. Fisherman sandals were king on a slippery day like that, and I matched them with some natural wood jewelry to pull in the brown tones. Rating: 6/10

Day 9 (night): 1+3+13 Went to an intimate music venue to see my two favorite artists play some jazz, and this outfit was perfection with my fisherman sandals and matching tan vintage Coach purse. Rating: 9/10

Day 10, or The Day I Saw Hillary Clinton: 1+5+11 I ended up with free tickets to Hello Dolly on Broadway with theoneandonly Bette Midler, and Hillary Clinton sat in my row, a few seats away. The entire theatre was enraptured, standing ovations for both Hill and Bette… but I digress: I loved this outfit. Wore the skirt and wedges I wished I’d worn to the jazz club, but this time the combo of legs showing + higher heels made me feel too exposed, so my new rule is one or the other! Rating: 8/10

Day 11: 3+9 Stripes and florals are a match made in heaven. On July 4th I wore 5+9, and I loved it, so I tried with a subtler, fatter stripe, #3, and loved it. I was also having dinner with a friend who long hence told me never to wear black because my soul was too colorful to be clothed in such a dark color. He was right then, and I still try to adhere to his wish to this day! Crocs sandals because much more rain. Rating: 9/10

Day 12: 2+12 I was supposed to go a barbeque, but actually ended up at a long-lost-family dinner. This was professional enough (once I tucked the shirt in) for that. Fisherman sandals and wooden jewelry and leopard turban to add color. Rating: 7/10

Day 13: 6+12 Comfort was key because I spent 6 unanticipated hours on a bus. Thank you, stretch jeans, thank you breezy tunic, thank you Crocs sandals. Rating: 6/10

Things I Learned:

I love mixing patterns and textures - stripes + florals, floral print + floral brocade, small floral + big floral, lasercut + stripes. The trick is to do 2 patterns, not 3. 3 is possible, but really hard to pull off.

I gravitate towards dresses, and I will feel underdressed in anything else, even skirts.

I’m into the crop top + high-waisted bottoms trend. If the top isn’t cropped, I will “cropify” it by tying it up somehow.

Holdover lesson from last 10x10: Accessories are everything. Do not misunderstand; if I were to wear Day 12’s outfit again with no wooden accessories, or black shoes, or no leopard turban, it would have gotten a 3/10… maybe. Accessories can transform. Don’t forget them!

Favorite Outfit:

Definite tie between my two dress days (Day 5 and Day 8). I didn’t think that silk dress would be on the map at all, but with that leopard turban, anything can become my favorite outfit… ;)

Power Item:

My jeans were definitely my most used item. Had they not been high-waisted, however, I would’ve assuredly worn them half as much, because I was really into the crop tops this time.

Could’ve Left At Home:

It was nice to have the variety of multiple colors and patterns, because I tend to get bored really easily, but since I had more access to laundry/drying spaces than I anticipated, I think I could’ve left two items at home and yielded similar (or more interesting!) results: my leopard crop top (#7) and my solid blue collared tank (#4). The leopard turban gave me the animal print I crave in my life, and the blue striped crop top and the solid one seemed redundant since I was cropping the latter as well.

_____

You can see all of my outfits under the Instagram hashtag “#summer13x13″ and see everyone’s items under #summer10x10 or #10x10friends.

Did you do the #Summer10x10? What were your favorite outfits? What did you learn? Are you going to participate in the 10x10 fall edition?

#10x10 #10x10friends #stylebee10x10 #unfancyremix #summer10x10 #summer13x13

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voidcrow · 7 years

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The Involuntary Blood-pumping Muscle of the Cards - Day 97

Sarola had taught him the rules. He had built a deck of his own, using cards none of the others had snapped up for themselves. He had won a few games with it.

And now, Shaaghun was ready to ascend.

Some time after being crowned the Summoners' Showdown King, Rupmat had withdrawn from Voidcrow Spire's living room, taking a few fellow imps and his wooden "throne" with him, to make a palace out of some other room in the tower. At first they'd tried settling in Laciel's bedroom, but they’d walked in on Sarola being her usual indecent self, so their search had continued.

But at last, King Rupmat and his royal entourage had found the perfect spot for him to hold court—the boiler room, whose namesake furnace would keep them warm. And now, his deck in one hand and the Axe of the Mammoth Rider in the other, the felguard descended the stairs which led to there.

Multiple imps were found in the rather stark room, idly sitting around and exchanging cards with each other. Rupmat's own card collection was piled on a table, which sat in front of his throne. There—wearing a "cape" made by cutting a small square out of one of Laciel's nicer-looking blankets—the so-called King slouched. "Who approacheth mine throne?" he asked in his best attempt at a posh Gilnean accent.

Shaaghun responded by throwing his axe across the room to split Rupmat's table in two, catapulting his cards into the air.

Most of the imps simply laughed, but Rupmat screeched in horror, standing straight up atop the chair and recoiling, whilst his cards fluttered down to the floor. "Look, whatever's hacked you off, it was prob'ly Vaadeus' fault! Go bother him!"

Holding up his deck, Shaaghun looked Rupmat in the eye. "You. Me. For the title."

A silence went by.

Rupmat smiled. "Oh, is that all?"

<> <> <>

Back in the living room, Shaaghun and Rupmat sat at Laciel's chess table before onlookers such as Vaadeus and the two observers.

“Let’s mix things up a little, eh?” Rupmat set his deck on the table, but then placed a single separate card face-down off to the side. “We’ll play with a locked environment—meanin’, we both have to skip environment phases for the whole game, but this environment here stays in play from start to finish, no matter what.” He flipped the proposed environment over:

[ENVIRONMENT] Heathen Ritual Temple As long as this environment is in play, each player can acquire souls during the Spells and Summons phase of their turn by discarding familiars directly from their hand. One familiar yields one soul as usual.

“Alright, I like it.” Shaaghun nodded. “Auch minas. Let’s do this.”

Once the imp and felguard finished drawing their starting hands, Rupmat flipped a silver coin into the air.

"Heads!" called Shaaghun. But it landed on tails, prompting the mo'arg to mutter a cuss word.

With the first turn being his, Rupmat took the top card from his deck, adding it to his hand. He grinned. "And already, opportunity comes knockin’." Rupmat put a card in his hand straight into his discard pile, and a little orb of light appeared above his deck, in accordance with the environment’s effect. "I'll spend that soul to summon this thing." He put a card down on his side of the field:

[FAMILIAR] Goblinius Major [COST 1] [ATT. POW. 600] [STAM.600] [PERSISTENT]: As long as Goblinius Major is in play, activating a trap will cost your opponent one soul each.

The card projected an image of a malformed creature clad in crude armor and carrying a morning star.

Rupmat then placed another card onto his front row, keeping it face-down, before looking up at Shaaghun. "I'll have Goblinius here attack you directly." The familiar projection ran up to bash the immaterial wall in front of Shaaghun, cracking its surface. The number projected at the top of said wall depleted to 7400.

"Alright, your turn," said Rupmat. "Let's see how a lowly peasant does against the king."

Shaaghun drew a card, and couldn't help smiling at his luck. The strength of Rupmat's initial play would be outdone by it. "First," said the felguard, "I'll harvest the souls of these four critters." So he discarded four cards from his hand, causing four little orbs to appear over his deck.

"Which lets me bring out my big friend..." Shaaghun then set down the card he'd just drawn:

[FAMILIAR] Warrior of Fate [COST 4] [ATT. POW. 0] [STAM. 1700] [ON SUMMON]: Spend any amount of your life (in integers of 100) to set the Warrior of Fate's attack power to the amount given. The attack power increase lasts for as long as the Warrior of Fate remains in play.

"Wha—huh?" Rupmat put on a worried grimace.

"I figure spending 4000 life to set his attack power oughta be enough to put you on the ropes, Your Majesty." Shaaghun's life counter depleted to 3400, but the Warrior of Fate's projection beefed up. "Also, I'll cast this," continued the felguard, revealing the last card in his hand to be a spell:

[SPELL] Snipe Your weakest familiar in terms of attack power may now strike your opponent's life directly. The same familiar can still attack as usual upon your turn's attack phase.

While the Warrior of Fate proceeded to bypass Rupmat's two familiars and smash into the wall representing his life, the imp's eyes bugged out. "Oh sweet salty gods!" His life depleted to 4000.

Shaaghun discarded the spell and smirked. "And now that the actual attack phase has come up, let's just have the Warrior of Fate kill off your Goblinius Major there." With that, Shaaghun's familiar struck down Goblinius Major in one blow, and the goblin’s card floated to the imp's discard pile. "Your turn, Rup, but FYI: I've got two more of those Snipe thingies in my deck. It don't matter what critters you throw between yourself and my Warrior of Fate; I draw one more Snipe, and you're toast."

But Rupmat cackled as he drew a card to open his next turn. "You just about clinched the game, but didn't think to kill my face-down familiar when you had the chance! You're a right proper doofus, you are." Rupmat flipped up the remaining card in his front row:

[FAMILIAR] Reeorgh the Mole [COST 0] [ATT. POW. 120] [STAM. 200] [ON FLIP]: You and your opponent's life are set to 8000 and available souls set to zero. You and your opponent are to shuffle all familiars and traps in the field and all the cards in their hands and discard piles back into their respective decks. You and your opponent then draw five cards.

The card briefly projected an image of an angry-looking mammal in miner's gear... shortly before it and the Warrior of Fate both disappeared. Shaaghun looked confused as all his cards floated over to rejoin his deck, which then shuffled itself, while a grinning Rupmat watched the same happen to his. The cracks in their life-walls faded away.

"Wha...?" Shaaghun scowled. "You have a card that lets you reset the game if it doesn't go your way?!" Five cards floated from the top of Shaaghun's deck into his hand.

Rupmat similarly drew five. "Yeah, I bet it pisses you off."

"My turn yet?"

"You wish; we're still on my summon an’ spells phase! And just look what I've got here in my new starting hand." He threw down two cards, which were two copies of the same one:

[SPELL] Kingly Avarice Draw two cards.

"I am the King, after all." Rupmat discarded them both and proceeded to draw an additional four cards. Now he had seven cards in his hand, and he seemed almost psychotically delighted to see them. "Oh, can you believe this luck? Seven familiars, an’ one of ‘em costs six souls to summon."

Shaaghun's whole upper body trembled with firey exasperation. "Are you shitting me?!"

Rupmat laughed to the tune of "Ring-Around-a-Rosies" while discarding six of the cards in his hand, harvesting a soul from each, and proceeded to set down his hand's remaining card face-up:

[FAMILIAR] Mauve-Eyes Periwinkle Dragon [COST 6] [ATT. POW. 5000] [STAM. 5500] [WHEN DESTROYED]: Mauve-Eyes Periwinkle Dragon is put back into play. This particular effect cannot be used more than once per game.

"Oh, and he attacks you," says Rupmat, which was the projected dragon's cue to spit a combustive energy ball at Shaaghun's life-wall, cracking it badly and depleting his recently-restored life back down to 3000. "Your turn, peasant!"

A grumbling Shaaghun drew a card. He had but a single weak familiar in his hand, two spells, and four maddeningly unhelpful traps. But the mo'arg looked to his deck for a moment... and smiled.

{Background music, “Kiryuu Ga Kill”, begins.}

"Well, let's start by summoning this fella," said Shaaghun, placing the aforementioned familiar down:

[FAMILIAR] Self-Loathing Courier [COST 0] [ATT. POW. 300] [STAM. 150] [ON SUMMON]: You may destroy the Self-Loathing Courier in exchange for summoning two familiars of your choice from your deck at no soul cost. This does not count as a sacrifice and yields no soul. Shuffle your deck afterward.

"And I'll use its effect." The image of a letter carrier projected by this card didn't stick around for long before the card itself floated to Shaaghun's discard pile. The felguard picked up his deck and filed through it until he found the ones he was looking for. "I pick these two," he said, setting down two of the same card:

[FAMILIAR] Mosh Pit Warrior [COST 1] [ATT. POW. 300] [STAM. 150] [PERSISTENT]: Every Warrior-type familiar you have in play has its attack power increased by 500.

These cards each projected an image of a long-haired fellow wearing a bandana. These "Warriors" proceeded to bang their heads up and down and hold up their right hands in a corna gesture.

Shaaghun set his deck back down where it was, and it shuffled itself. "That attack power increase stacks, I oughta point out. That means each of the two Mosh Pit Warriors has 1300 attack power."

"Big deal," scoffed Rupmat, "That's not enough to kill my Dragon once over, and you'll have to do it twice just to take it outta the picture."

"Sorry; did I say my spell and summon phase was over, you lil' scamp? No, I didn't. Next, I'll cast this," declared Shaaghun, revealing one of the cards in his hand to be a spell:

[SPELL] Reborn the Familiar Select a single familiar from your discard pile and summon it. Soul costs still apply.

"So let's just put the Self-Loathing Courier back in play..." The felguard took said familiar from his discard pile, and placed it face-up. "...and use his on-summon effect again." He discarded the Courier and dug through his deck again. "And I'll summon this guy from my deck," he said, putting a new familiar on the table:

[FAMILIAR] Northman Warrior [COST 2] [ATT. POW. 800] [STAM. 1100] [WHEN DESTROYED]: If the Northman Warrior is equipped when he would normally be sent to the discard pile, discard his equipment instead and turn him face-down.

This card projected an image of what basically amounted to a vrykul, horned helmet and all.

"Also, I have a third Mosh Pit Warrior," said Shaaghun, taking just that familiar out of his deck to set face-up before letting the deck shuffle itself. "So now I have three stacking Mosh Pit Warrior summon effects going. The Moshers have 1800 attack power apiece. The Northman's a Warrior-type too, so he has 2300."

“And this changes anything how?” scoffed Rupmat.

{“Kiryuu Ga Kill” reaches 1:22 and pauses.}

"That ain't all, Your Highness," continued Shaaghun. "I've got one more spell." The felguard proceeded to show it to Rupmat:

[SPELL] Mobilize Until the end of your turn, every Warrior-type familiar you have in play gains 1000 additional attack power, multiplied by the number of Warrior-type familiars you have in play.

{“Kiryuu Ga Kill” skips to 3:39 and resumes playing.}

Shaaghun did a bit of counting with the fingers on his free hand. "That brings each of my Moshers up to 5800 attack power, and the Northman to 6300."

"That is so cheap!" shouted Rupmat.

"So one of the Mosh Pit Warriors will attack your Dragon, for starters." One of the three headbanging thugs' projections ran up to uppercut Rupmat's Mauve-Eyes Periwinkle Dragon square in the jaw, killing it. The Dragon's card flipped over twice, projecting a new image of the same Dragon; it had used its one-time effect to resurrect itself.

Shaaghun went on. "Then another Mosh Pit Warrior's gonna kill it for real." Another of the Moshers ran up and uppercutted the Dragon, this time sending its card to the panicking imp's discard pile.

"The last Mosh Pit man will attack you directly." The last of the headbanging trio ran up to dropkick the wall in front of Rupmat, covering its surface in cracks. The imp's life depleted to 2200.

"And my Northman Warrior will put you away!" Shaaghun half-laughed. The tall, horned-helmet-clad brute threw his axe; its 6300 damage shattered Rupmat's life wall, after which all projections vanished and both players' cards started making their way back into their decks.

{“Kiryuu Ga Kill” reaches its end.}

The felguard then put on a grin and gave Rupmat a pair of matching obscene gestures.

"Fine; I didn't want to be the King anymore anyway," grumbled the imp.

#Story #Warcraft #Non-Canon

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