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lostbutterflyutau · 3 years

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Parting Gift

Note: I did not intend to write more than the one piece for ship week due to lack of time, but got inspired and managed to squeeze in some time for this short ficlet.

Written for the “Farewell” prompt.

***

It was rare that Carla got up before the sun did. In fact, she was sure she could count on one hand the number of times it happened in her whole life, but this morning was different than those other times that were usually before a big move or to complete homework assignments back in the Mirror World.

She sighed to herself, toyed with ribbon in her hands as she looked down into the garden where Gabe and his newest group of recruits were preparing to take off on their weeklong survival training mission. But it wasn’t him leaving that had thrown off her sleeping schedule. She’d accepted that they’d have periods of separation. That came with being the girlfriend of any royal guard. As stupid as she knew it was, it was the unique tradition that came with this kind of trip that nagged at her.

She leaned over, rested her arms on the balcony railing with a frown and leaned her head against her hand. All of the other guards going on this trip – new recruits and trainers alike – had gotten some sort of token from their partners if they had one. She’d heard it was to spread good luck and thoughts while they were in the wilderness and had been eager to find something to give Gabe despite him being the Captain. Maybe he didn’t necessarily need it, but she thought it was a cute gesture. A tiny show of affection and luck for a usually miserable type of experience.

Unfortunately, nothing seemed good enough, especially after she learned that some of the other men had gotten things like heirloom watches and jewelled brooches, neither of which seemed right for Gabe. The only thing she could think to offer was a purple hair ribbon. It was small, easy to hide and would serve as a cute reminder that she was thinking about him without getting in the way. And, in case it got lost, neither would be particularly heartbroken or out a precious gift. But practicality didn’t equal quality and a flimsy ribbon would never seem as important or meaningful as a hand-me-down pocket watch or well-kept piece of jewellery.

‘This is stupid. It’s not even that big of a deal,’ Carla thought to herself, glancing back down to see Gabe walking up along the row of new guards, presumably doing some form of attendance check or rundown of the rules while Rico and Miguel stood next to a pile of survival packs.

She then frowned as she was struck with the thought that she hadn’t given him a proper goodbye. He’d been so busy preparing that she’d barely seen him for a few days. Then again, they’d only been dating for four months. Did saying goodbye really matter that much? And what if he thought she was being stupidly clingy because of it?

‘But if you don’t at least say goodbye, he might think you don’t care about him leaving,’ The other side of her remarked, the thought making the knot in her stomach twist even tighter. She would hate for him to think she didn’t care about him or the fact he was going away. The truth was that, as much as she hid it, she knew she would miss him terribly, because even though it was part of his job, this would be their first big separation since they became a couple. Abuela had said that the first time was always the hardest but knowing the reason for her feelings didn’t change them.

‘Don’t be dumb,’ She scolded herself and stood straight. ‘He’s not going to think you decided to break up with him just because you didn’t give him a trinket.’

Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted to take that chance. Maybe Gabe wasn’t insecure enough to think that, but she also didn’t want to hurt him. She watched him head over to Rico and Miguel, clutched the ribbon with both hands. Since she was up anyway, she figured the least she could do was see him off. And that, even if it was somewhat corny, a ribbon was better than letting him think she had forgotten.

***

“Alright men,” Gabe said, his commanding tone making the line of recruits in front of him immediately straighten up. “For the next week, you can only rely on what’s inside these backpacks and your own survival training. The goal is to make your way from the Moonshadow Jungle to – ”

“Gabe!” A familiar voice called, halting both his words and train of thought as he whipped around to see Carla making her way down the path in her nightgown and flats he assumed she hastily grabbed. She hated to be mismatched and the black didn’t go with the cream and purple colour scheme at all.

“Carla? What are you doing out here?” He asked, stepping forward to meet her and hoping that her sudden appearance didn’t indicate some kind of emergency.

“I…” She trailed off for a minute, suddenly shy when she glanced up and caught the eyes of the nosy squad behind him. She flicked her eyes downward, toyed with her bracelet as she confessed, “I needed to see you before you left.”

Gabe smiled, reached up to put his hands on her shoulders and opened his mouth to speak. But, before he could even get a word out, someone spoke up from behind him.

“Nice nightie, Princess,” One of the recruits called, giving a satisfied smirk at his own comment, the way the other men snickered and Carla’s glare.

“Mendes!” Gabe snapped, turning back to face him, and noting the way the younger man’s expression immediately shifted as he pointed to the ground. “Fifteen. Now.”

“Yes Captain,” Mendes sighed, moved to do as he was told just as Gabe turned back to Carla.

“Come on,” He said, first motioning slightly with his hand and then setting in on her back when she took the hint and stepped over. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

He gave her a soft nudge and they headed down the path together, found an open spot away from the others’ prying eyes and ears.

“I’m happy you came to say goodbye,” Gabe said when they stopped. He set his hands on her shoulders again, teased, “You even got up early to do it.”

“I didn’t sleep. Not really,” Carla admitted, kicked one of her feet.

His expression shifted, the smile in his eyes turning to concern. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No! I mean –” She stopped, sighed. She couldn’t lie to him, even if it was such a little one. “Kind of.”

He tilted his head slightly, waited for her to continue.

She took in a breath, shuffled her feet as her hand returned to her bracelet. “I know it’s tradition for you guys to take trinkets on this trip and I didn’t want you to be left out but –”

“But what?” He pressed gently as he brushed a piece of hair out of her face, tucked it behind her ear.

“Nothing I found was good enough.”

“What do you mean by ‘good enough?’”

Carla sighed. “Well, it’s just – ” She paused, considered her words as she glanced down a her hands, gave her bracelet another tug. “I heard some of the other men talking about their trinkets and I – well – I just knew I wouldn’t be able to find anything as meaningful as a gold watch or a ruby brooch.” She paused a second time, reached into her nightgown pocket. “All I could think of was this.”

Gabe stared down at the purple ribbon in her hand, immediately recognised it as one of her spare hair ribbons. He didn’t respond, only reached out and gently took it.

“I know it’s lame and this is going to sound really stupid, but I got the idea from a book. I just thought that maybe –”

“It’s not lame,” Gabe interrupted, closed his hand around the ribbon. “It’s well…” He trailed off, took a minute to search for the right word. “You.”

Carla glanced up, met his reassuring gaze with her eager one. “You mean… You like it?”

“Of course I do,” He smiled, took one of her hands. “Carla, you know that I don’t need anything extravagant.”

She squeezed his hand. “But what if they think it’s not good enough? Just like they think I’m not good enough. You remember how much of a mess the guards’ ball was.”

“That doesn’t matter, and you know it,” He said, reached for her other hand. “The fact that you cared so much and tried so hard to find something says more than any fancy watch. It’s enough. You are enough.”

Unsure of what else to say, Carla merely stepped forward, keeping her eyes on his and hoping he took the hint as she leaned up.

He met her in the middle and together they fell into a soft, deep kiss that they both hoped said everything they couldn’t with words. Faint voices in the back of their minds tried to remind them that Gabe had a mission to get back to, but neither bothered to hasten the kiss, wanting to take their time in the moment.

When they broke apart, he smiled, held out the ribbon to her. “Put it on for me?”

Returning the smile, Carla took the ribbon, waited while he held his arm out to her and then carefully tied it around his wrist.

“It looks good on you,” She teased.

He laughed. “I’m glad you think so because I don’t plan to hide it.”

Carla giggled, moved to take his hand again. “Good luck on the trip.”

“I know it’ll feel like forever, but a week really isn’t that long,” He reassured. “And when I get back, we can have that beach picnic you’ve been talking about.”

“I’d like that,” She gave him a sincere smile, giggled again when he kissed her head.

“Now you go back upstairs and get some proper rest. I know you have a busy day too.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, Captain.”

“Cutie,” He replied and gently flicked her nose, biting back another laugh when her face scrunched up at the slight tickle, her expression reminding him of exactly why he’d started using that pet name. Then, her lips shook as if she was trying to suppress something, only to let out a soft yawn that she instinctively covered.

She pouted as she put her hand down, seemingly annoyed at the way it confirmed his command. If she had her way, they’d stay there for much longer. But he was right. She needed rest and he had a squad to return to.

Her eyes then narrowed in seriousness as she squeezed his hand and whispered, “Stay safe.”

“I’ll do my best,” He promised, gripped her hands in a tight affirmation of his words as the smile returned to her face.

Though it took all her willpower to do so, Carla turned around and headed back down the path, with him following until she turned up the path leading to palace. Once she reached the door, she stopped, looked back at him as he continued towards the fountain area, pausing to meet her gaze one last time.

He waved to her, the loose ends of the ribbon she had gifted him fluttering with the movement of his wrist.

Smiling at her again, he whispered mostly to himself, “See you soon, Cutie.”

#Elena of Avalor #eoa ship appreciation week 2021 #Carla Delgado #Gabe Nunez #Gabela #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #all the feels

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antihero-writings · 4 years

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His Dog, Warming Their Hearts

(Cover art by stlyrica_art on instagram!! Please go check her out!!)

Fandom: Black Butler | Kuroshitsuji (manga)

Fic Summary: Not every stray finds a home at Christmas, but puppy Sebastian just might.

Character focus: Undertaker

Fic:

Whimpering. High-pitched, timid, and pitiful.

For a moment, Undertaker wondered if one of his guests was still here. It wasn’t like him to forget, but maybe one of the coffins was still filled, its inhabitant clawing at the lid to get out, for just one last taste of life. That would make for an interesting tale, he smirked to himself: one of the dead, not yet at the funeral, trying to escape its eternal rest.

Despite the presiding theme of the shop, the noise was made by something alive.

Shivering in one of the empty, open coffins against the wall was an animal. A very small animal, that is. Its black fur was matted and dirty, the look in its brown eyes shivering more than the rest of it, but defiant still.

A puppy.

“Now what would a thing like you doing here in my parlor?” Undertaker asked, crouching down beside it, offering a long-nailed finger for it to sniff.

The puppy did so, cautiously as it could, though fear still gleamed in its eyes—the black robes, unnaturally long, grey hair, which more often than not covered his eyes, and the stitch-like scars weaving their way across his skin, not to mention the usually twisted smiles on his face, were enough to make anyone a little uneasy. The animal, however, seemed to come to the same conclusion that most people did; Undertaker was an odd fellow, but wouldn’t go so far as cruel.

“If it’s a nice funeral you’re looking for,” amusement lined his words as he circled his finger in the air to reference the shop, “you’ve come to the right place.” He sat down beside it. “That one there,” he knocked on the puppy’s current sanctuary, making it shy away, “is made from a very rare wood. I’d need a first-rate laugh for it. Though, I do admit,” he gave that signature, high-pitched laugh, more like a twitch at the corner of his mouth, “it might be a bit large for you.”

The puppy only shivered, neither caring, nor understanding his sense of humor. Though few could tell when he was joking, and most found their faces in a constant awkward grimace around him.

Undertaker sat up and frowned, his too-green gaze flicking to the door to his shop, which was open, just enough to let the cold—(not that one can feel the cold when they’ve been dead for centuries)—and apparently other things, in.

“Must’ve been me last customer,” he reasoned softly, “Fellow lost his son. And so close to Christmas too. A shame, really.” He shook his head. “Told me he was a nice boy.” He smirked. “They all say that, though. ‘Nice’ doesn’t last forever, you know.”

Undertaker paused, looked at the pitiful creature, putting a robe sleeve to his chin, “If you’ve not come for business,” he returned to the subject, “you’d best be on your way. I’m not particularly fond of tending the living, ya see.” He held up a finger. “Too much on the upkeep.”

He stood back up and strode over the door, holding it open. A gust of wind tossed his hair. The animal wouldn’t budge.

“Well, if you’d rather have a bit of fun,” his grin became more maniacal, and he held his nails in front of his face, “that can be arranged.”

The puppy seemed to get the idea, and gave a yelp, pattering over to hide on the other side of the coffin.

“That’s what I thought.” He inclined his head to the door.

Still, it wouldn’t oblige.

Undertaker sighed, putting his hand on his forehead. “You are a stubborn fellow aren’t you?”

Despite it not leaving, he headed into the back of his shop, where all things deemed not-fit-for-the-eyes-of-the-living occurred. He left the door to outside open a crack, hoping it would get out with nothing else getting in in the meantime.

Laying on the slab in the back was a boy, no older than fourteen, his skin pale and waxy, his limbs stiff in his clothes, a boyhood smirk still on his face. If Undertaker had been alive he may have worried about catching the fever that killed him. But being dead, he ran his hand gently along the boy’s arm. “Better this way.” He murmured. “At least now he can be a child forever.”

There was the sound of little claws on wood; the puppy had followed him, and was peering from behind the curtain that divided the sections of the shop.

Undertaker lifted his head “Persistent, aren’t you?”

“Are you forgetting that there are many things I could do that might just make you rethink your decision to stay?”

He held a bunch of tools from the table between his fingers like a magician, giving that creepy grin as the blades glinted in the candlelight.

The big, fearful brown eyes reflected the metal.

Undertaker rolled his eyes, setting them back down. He didn’t have any intention of hurting the thing, still it’s presence was a bit of a nuisance, and scaring it could prove for a good laugh.

He sighed. “Well, if you if you insist on staying—” He picked up a skull from the corner of the room, poked his head out from behind the curtain and threw it at the door, shutting it. Then he strode over to a shelf where he kept little ‘souvenirs’ from his guests, and dragged down an old, moth-eaten coat—(the poor man’s wife could barely contain her tears)—and made a little nest against the wall.

“Can’t have you interrupting my work, now,” he wagged his finger as the thing stumbled over to the makeshift bed, before mocking, “Would you like any refreshments, my lord?”

It curled up in the coat, it’s tail beginning to wag.

“Don’t be forming any attachments to me, now. It’s off to the pound soon as I get a decent break.”

The puppy lowered its head and stopped wagging its tail.

After working for a while he turned to see it was fast asleep.

He smirked. “Poor thing doesn’t even know what’s good for it.”

Once finished with his present task, he put his tools away, blew out the candles, and attempted to escape, when the creature appeared at the door again, as if it had a sixth sense about things about to leave it.

He chuckled low, grabbing his hat off a nearby coffin, and held the door open wide, letting a flurry in, gesturing for it to leave.

Those eyes looked up at him unknowingly. The ex-reaper clicked his teeth and flung open the door, gliding out through it.

The patter of little paws sounded against the floorboards, it squeezed its little body through the gap as the door closed, landing on its bum in the snow, shaking the flakes off its floppy ears.

“I don’t suppose you plan on following me all day?”

The puppy tilted his head to the side, wagging its tail a little.

Snow crunched beneath his boots, the puppy running circles and zigzags around him as he walked, leaving little pawprints in the snow around his own steps.

It smelled like Christmas; the cold always has a sort of smell, but the food stalls nearby added gingerbread and peppermint aromas to the winter air, the sweet sent of pine drifting about, as the Christmas trees made the world a museum for their decorated corpses.

Kids ran about in fluffy hats and scarves throwing snowballs and making angels. One bumped into Undertaker, and ran away fearfully, nearly bursting into tears when he picked her up and put her back on her feet saying, “You be careful now, we wouldn’t want a pretty thing like you hitting her head.”

He was examining a snowman they made when he noticed a familiar face across the street.

It would have been easy to just walk up to him, to say ‘hello, good afternoon, sir’ but if he had done that he wouldn’t have been Undertaker.

No, instead of acting like normal person, he darted behind the nearest decorative poinsettia, and proceeded jump from bush to bush—(the puppy wagging its tail inquisitively at him, wondering what sort of game this was)—until he was right beside him. Then he snuck up and whispered in his ear, “Penny for your thoughts, my lord?”

Most people would have screamed, grabbed the nearest available weapon and proceeded to whack him over the head with it, but this man was not normal himself. Instead his face broke into a smile.

“Undertaker,” he tipped his hat to him, “It’s good to see you.”

“Vincent Phantomhive.” He twirled his hat off his head, bowing too low, “Now what’s a rich fellow like you doing coming down from his castle?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m ashamed to say I haven’t quite finished my Christmas shopping.” He held up a bag which was allegedly full of Christmas gifts. “Rachel would be furious if she found out I was finishing up days before Christmas.”

“You willing to pay for my silence?” Undertaker sidled up beside him.

Vincent shoved him back. “You willing to do something nice for a friend?”

“Oh so we’re friends?”

Vincent scoffed, about to say something, when he stopped to look up at the sign on the shop beside him.

“She mentioned there was a brooch she wanted—Oh!”

When they’d stopped the puppy was able to catch up, and had made its presence known by pouncing on a loose lace of the earl’s shoes. “And who might this fellow be?”

“Just a beggar who wandered in to my parlor earlier today.”

Vincent smiled and crouched down to rub its chin. “He—is it a he?—is rather friendly, isn’t he?” he scratched behind its ears, and the puppy ate up the attention like a decadent chocolate cake. “Does he belong to someone?”

“More likely the product of a few strays. And people can’t resist a cute face—You wouldn’t know anything about that now would you? Probably fed him and made him grow accustomed to people.”

Vincent waved him off.

“Well don’t get too attached to this one, I was just on my way to take it to the pound.”

“Oh must you?” the puppy’s tongue was hanging out, his little tail whirring like an engine. “I’ve heard the kinds of things they do to dogs there. A little thing like him wouldn’t last a week.”

“You can dispense with fellow human beings with ease, but a Heaven forbid a cute puppy meet the same fate.”

Vincent glared at him.

“No you’re right,” Undertaker added sardonically, “why I don’t just open my parlor to every stray that walks in?”

“You know that’s not what I’m suggesting.”

“Then what other options are there? Turning him back out to the street isn’t much kinder.”

Vincent set down his bag and picked up the dog, who proceeded to lick his face. “You know, Rachel and I have been talking about getting a dog. For the twins. You know, like a guard dog.”

“You think Licky over here is a good candidate for guarding your home? I thought you noblemen were all about the purebreds.”

“What’s that saying about teaching dogs tricks? He’s young, with a little love and perseverance I’m sure he can be taught.”

“You do realize it could carry all sorts of…unsightly maladies.” He grinned like that would be fun to see.

“Well, I do think it would be much more lethargic if it were sick, don’t you?”

Undertaker shrugged. “Some things that are sick don’t show it till the whole house has it.”

Vincent frowned, looking at it more critically. “There’s a veterinarian around here, isn’t there? We could have it checked out.”

“We?”

“You.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well it won’t be a surprise Christmas present if I bring it home tonight, now will it?”

Undertaker put his head in his palm. “Even if he was willing to do that—which, I’m not—Would your wife would be alright with you bringing in a stray?”

“Oh she loves dogs. And, well we don’t have to tell her he’s a stray, do we? We can get him checked out, clean him up, feed him. No one will ever know the difference once he’s all dressed up.”

“What a tangled web you weave, dear Earl.”

“I just think he would be a lovely Christmas present, that’s all.” he held out the puppy—which looked like he was about to explode with joy—as if admiring a fine work of art.

Undertaker stared at the puppy with something akin to a grimace.

“You will take care of him in the meantime, won’t you?”

Undertaker stood there with his mouth half open.

“I assure you, you’ll be compensated most generously for your troubles.”

“You must have multiple first-rate laughs up your sleeve if you think I’ll agree to this.”

Vincent nodded, grinning. “You know I always deliver. …So it’s decided, you’ll bring him around, all cleaned up, checked out, and fed on Christmas.”

Undertaker stared at the puppy. “This sure is a lot of work for a mutt.”

“For the smile it’ll bring to the twins’ faces? It’s worth it.”

******

This wasn’t normal.

It wasn’t normal for Undertaker to take care of living things; when he had said he wasn’t in the business of doing so, it was meant to be a rule, not just a nice notion.

Each time he had to remember to feed it, to clean up after it, he wondered if Vincent had paid enough.

It also wasn’t normal to drive a hearse to something other than a graveyard or church, much less to carry something living.

And lastly, it wasn’t normal for him to make house calls, much less to take the aforementioned living thing to a friend on Christmas evening.

Undertaker arrived at the manor, stepping down from the hearse to retrieve the puppy from the back.

It—he—was much happier now; over the past few days, Undertaker had cleaned him up, bought or made him food, and today had tied a red bow around his neck, just for flair.

“What do you think, little one?” he asked, as he opened the back, throwing the puppy a dog biscuit from the container he was carrying—he baked a batch earlier—which he jumped up and caught, chowing down happily. He wagged his tail, glancing eagerly from the house to the Undertaker.

“You’re lucky,” Undertaker mentioned, biting off a piece of dog biscuit himself, leaning against the side of the hearse, “Not every stray finds a home at Christmas.”

After finishing the biscuit and setting down the container, he took off his hat and scooped the now clean and presentable puppy up into it, making his way up the path to the manor.

The snow was coming down more densely today, the wind attempting to brush the hair from his eyes—though didn’t matter if the wind and the white saw those green, green eyes.

Tanaka greeted him properly, then let him know his master would be with him shortly and went to collect the earl.

“Merry Christmas, Undertaker,” Vincent remarked, smiling as he walked down the stairs to the front door.

“Is it merry?” Undertaker asked.

“Is it not?”

“Well I have no doubt that it is, for you.” He chuckled, “But I also don’t doubt that I’ll still get customers today. All a matter of perspective.”

“I suppose so,” Vincent mused as he reached him, “Now, where is the little rascal?”

As if on cue, the creature popped its head out from inside the hat.

Vincent beamed at the sight of him, reaching out his hand to let him sniff his fingers—at which the puppy brightened, tried to jump out of the hat—then scratching gently beneath his chin.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, little one. You look so charming.”

“Why thank you,” Undertaker twirled a strand of his hair around his finger.

Vincent rolled his eyes. “Thank you for all you’ve done, really, I couldn’t have done this without you. …Please, come in!”

Vincent motioned for Undertaker to follow, guiding him through the house to the living room where his wife sat watching the twin boys play with their assortment new toys, barely old enough to walk, bumbling around at their mother’s feet.

“Ah, hello! And Merry Christmas!” Rachel exclaimed happily, getting up and curtseying.

Undertaker gave a little bow.

“Boys,” Vincent put his hands on his knees to speak to his sons, “this man has one last gift for you.”

One of them toddled up and clung to his father’s pant leg, staring up at Undertaker inquisitively, the other hid behind their mother, holding onto her dress, looking fearfully from the creepy-looking stranger to each of their parents.

Undertaker crouched down and held out the hat for them see the gift.

“Oh!” Rachel exclaimed softly, putting her hands on her face standing. Her face broke into a smile, giving a perfectly gratefully look from her husband to Undertaker, “A puppy! How wonderful! What’s his—is it a he?—name?”

Undertaker shrugged. “The name’s up to you, my lady.”

Rachel took the puppy out of the hat, who licked her nose, wagging his little tail.

“What do you think Vincent?”

“Hmm, we never got around to talking of names, did we?”

Rachel crouched down to show their sons their new pet.

“Look boys!”

The toddlers really had no idea what was going on, and looked at the creature apprehensively. One of them eagerly toddled up to pet it, while the other stayed a safe distance away, not leaving his mother’s side. The puppy licked the more adventurous boy’s hand, who giggled.

“What about you boys? Any ideas?”

The puppy got overzealous, knocked the shy one over, making him cry. She picked him up while Vincent held the dog and the other boy—who was now very interested in the creature—in each arm.

“He’ll need a strong name, don’t you think?”

“Certainly! Hmm…what about George? Edward?”

“Too…Well…Hmm…” Rachel mused, bouncing the shy boy, and petting the puppy between the ears, “I’ve always liked the name ‘Sebastian.’”

“What do you think boys? Do you like that name?”

The shy one sneezed.

“‘Sebastian’ it is!” He beamed at his family, before turning back to Undertaker, “Where are my manners? Please, Undertaker, stay for dinner!”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Undertaker began, putting his hat back on his head, and his hands in his sleeves, backing up. “Didn’t I tell you I’d be getting customers today? After all, Death doesn’t take the day off for Christmas.”

“Maybe not,” Vincent put an arm around his back guiding him into the room, smiling in the same creepy way Undertaker always did, making it clear ‘no’ was never in the word bank. “but you can.”

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sarahsmiles1991 · 3 years

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Xena Sharptooth - Critical Role Fanfiction

Summary: Though she was banished by the clan, Lady Kima asks her to join on her quest to Kraghammer to go into the depth below to stop a great evil within. Reluctant to go but agrees, Xena Sharptooth joins her; what dangers awaits her down there and who the hell are these clowns?!

Character Info Sheet

Name: Xena Sharptooth 30 ft Walking AC: 19

Class: Paladin lv. 9 Oath of Vengeance God: Bahamut

Race: Half-Orc Background: Urchin HP: 94

Armour: Mithril Breastplate Weapons: Animated Shield

Brooch of Shielding Flame Tongue Short-sword

Holy Symbol of Bahamut Platinum

Dragon attached by leather string and

hangs from her neck under her armour

Abilities

Strength: 20 (5+)

Dexterity: 16 (6+)

Constitution: 18 (4+)

Intelligence: 15 (2+)

Wisdom: 15 (2+)

Charisma: 16 (3+)

Saving Throws

Strength +8

Dexterity +6

Constitution +7

Intelligence +5

Wisdom (P) +9

Charisma (P) +10

Introduction/Background

Xena Sharptooth has lived as an urchin most of her life and being abandoned by her own mother she took to the street and stole food from the markets and earn gold by singing. However her luck rang out when the fruit seller caught and prepared to chop her hands off as punishment, but then an old Paladin by the name of Sir Alistair Brightworth, servant to Bahamut stopped this a says that he will take this half orc and make something out of her. With little to no choice but to go with the old paladin he takes her to the monastery and begins her training. As she grew she became a strong and skilful with a shield and sword and was given the test to become one of the generals.

Unfortunately, being a half orc the some of paladins and clerics were terrified, disgust and jealousy that such a creature would become one of the leaders. Before she could even start the test the head of the monastery struck a trial of scandal and murder on her; to her horror and sadness no one, not even her brothers and sisters in training took a stand with her and she was banished from the one place she thought was her true home. Now older and bitter Xena took to the mountains, killing bandits and evil creatures to take her mind off her anger and ignore the voice of a being who asks for forgiveness and redemption.

In town for a drink and supplies Xena comes across an old companion of hers, Lady Kima who she trained with. She pleads to Xena to come with her to Kraghammer to find a great evil that could be hidden within it’s depths; with great hesitation and a migraine from the voice in her head she agrees and goes with her to find this darkness and hopes that not only she makes it out alive but to have the voice stop talking to her.

Prologue

Xena Sharptooth was having a good day!

Not only did she get rid of the rest of the bandits that have been terrorizing a village but also found a bag of holding! How the bloody hell the leader came by such a thing is beyond her but she didn’t question it cause she can only imagine the vibrating purrs in her head would do.

Oh yes, ever since her banishment from the Paladins of Bahamut the Platinum Dragon, the stupid lizard has not let her forget that they have not forsaken her. No matter how much she tries to ignore them they seem to insist on sticking around, it didn’t really help that she was helping villages and other unpopular areas with their troubles for only a few things like food and sleep. Hell in a few minutes she is about to head out to farmers home and help them harvest their goods in exchange for a sack of vegetables, can’t exactly tell a god to fuck off when you are doing good deeds left and right.

Oddly though, as they tore her holy symbol from her armor they allowed her to keep it along with her weapons.

“The Platinum Dragon gave you those tools, though you have used them for your own gain than for others they are still yours.” one of the head ass-holes had explained as they dragged her out.

Scoffing at the whole situation, she puts the last of the goods in her new bag of holding, she puts the strap over her shoulder and makes her way to the village.

The breastplate, though showed it has seen many battles with scuff marks and a few dents here and there one could tell it was kept after Xena thanked the heavens that it was made out of mithril one of the sturdier metals in the world.

Xena hums, as she walks through the animal, made trail, feeling pretty good besides the few scars added to her body; particularly the one at her cheekbone almost making her lose her eye were it not for turning her head the last second.

There’s a spark inside us

that we can all ignite

and all that’s dark inside us

will flicker into light

Like any warrior who has been in battle; scars and wounds were merely accessories and reminders that they have survived her learned in a library that Orcs regard battle scars as tokens of pride and ornamental scars as things of beauty. Her light green colored skin showed all her scars with no help and also being like a beacon if any sort of light took a shine to her and as if she wasn’t so horrific to humans, the orcs gave pause at her green flesh while they had their grey pigmentation before charging at her to attack.

Of all the healers and friendly scholars she would come across none of them could explain what was going on with her skin, she can only assume it had something to do with her parents or a mutation.

There’s a power in every breath

there’s a power in every note

a power that starts within the heart

a power that rises through the throat

Her tusks though not prominent still like to remind people of her background when she grinned in amusement or gave a sneer at a threat. She was of course teased for her features and there had been times where she wanted nothing more than to file her tusks, they did help her in a pinch when she had to bite an offender who thought covering her mouth was a good idea, she still chuckles at that memory. Her wild black hair still a mess after one of the bandits cut the string holding it up, got a stab in the foot for that, cascaded down her shoulders and to the middle of her back. Normally she would either has it in a ponytail or a plait to keep it out of her face, never once considering getting it cut.

And when it sails up through the air

more beautiful than any prayer

this power can right all wrong

and it will always thrill the ear

of those who have the power to hear

the magic of a song

Now it was her eyes that gave her confounded her; wolf eyes some called them with the yellow glare piercing one's soul if you got close enough to her. No other orc or even half-orcs had the eyes she had, maybe it was the gods' idea of a joke since her skin already make her freak why not throw in wolf eyes, she could feel the lizard admonish her, it gave the locals the idea to nickname her Einn ulfur, Lone Wolf.

There’s a strength inside us

that tells us wrong from right

becomes a song inside us

to chase away the night

By the end of her singing, she made it to the village, it was still midday so there not a lot of people about what harvest time being near and going about their own life. Xena frequent the village a lot so no one really balked at the half-orc heading straight for their elders with a slight smirk on her face. The elders consisted of three female halflings; Shaena Underbough, Portia Tosscobble, and last and certainly not the least Lavina Goodbarrel. Lavina is the eldest of the three and was the first to welcome Xena into the village with open arms, even offering her a place to stay in her home after her banishment from Paladins.

“Ah! And there she is!” Elder Lavina crowed. “Merle! You owe me a pint!”

Merle, husband to Lavina chuckles. “Aye I never should wager against Ulfer, especially against you love.”

“The bandits are no more.” Xena reports, placing the bag of holding to the ground and pulling out all the goods and other useful things for the elders and village to use. “They will not be bothering you a moment longer and I have found some trinkets and the like for you all.”

Lavina raises an eyebrow at the goods. “For bandits going after a small village as ours makes one wonder why they even bother with all this shit.”

“Them swords will be of help for certain.” Shaena says, watching the pile of weapons grow. “Heaven knows our people need them when you go off into the world again, I must say again how much we appreciate your help luv.”

“Mmm.” Portia mumbles, placing her pipe next to her knitting project before getting up and going to inspect the goods. “Plus Jeorge will getting more than enough supplies for the winter with these, did you find your own trinkets to take?”

Xena presents the bag of holding to them with a smirk. “The leader somehow got his hands on this, it is enough for me to-”

“The pretty bag is not enough of a reward for what you have done Ulfer!” Portia interrupts, frowning up at her. “Shaena may just let you do that but I and many others will draw the line if we must! I am sure there is enough gold for you to take.”

With that along with a sound of offense from the other lady, Shaena picks up a rather large sack of what is clearly gold and places it in a bemused Xena’s hand. Shaena though the youngest is the much stricter of the three and much more wary of strangers; when Xena first arrived in the village after months on her own after banishment Shaena was very hesitant to lend a hand to the creature that limped it’s way to their little village with nothing but armor and weapons on her person asking for a simple cup of milk in exchange to help any way she can. Lavina swooped onto Xena before the other two could say anything and the next thing they knew they had a mean green fighting being who protected the village and provided help to others.

“Jeorge will be heading for the city early in the morning, best get cleaned and well-rested for the trip.” Lavina informs Xena, picking up what looks like a bottle of fancy wine.

Xena smiles at the ladies, giving them a nod before heading for Lavina’s townhouse to do just that. Many of the halflings who live in the village greet her as she passes by, along with thanks as she left.

The next morning as she ate the last of her second breakfast Xena Sharptooth was ready for the road along with Jeorge. It took nearly a day to reach the city and Xena slips a gold to Jeorge in thanks as she leaves to the nearest tavern for a late dinner and sees if there were any jobs for her to do.

The Hanging Man was a dwarf-owned tavern so the place looks more made of stone than wood but with how many brawls and fights started one was pretty smart to not have many things made of wood. A large fire pit where many types of meat were being cooked in the middle of the tavern sizzled through the air and made Xena’s mouth water as she could taste that goat leg she had been eyeing as she entered.

One of her favorite meats in the world before her and the bag of holding? Maybe the old lizard was onto something.

“Hello!” a bright-eyed elf wench greets from over the booth with a smile. “Welcome to the Hanging Man! My name is Amelia how may I help you?”

“Leg of goat and a pint of ale.” Xena orders, taking a seat.

“You mean lamb?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

Xena gave it back. “No I mean that goat leg you have in the fire pit.”

Amelia looks over to the fire pit before shaking her head. “I am sorry but that is for a customer-”

“Actually it is for her.” a soft familiar voice beside from beside her. “Please get it for.”

Xena’s whole body freezes at the voice. Are you fucking kidding you lizard!

A light purr was her reply.

“Three years away and I still know one of your weaknesses, Xena. Never understood your taste in goat than a lamb but to each their own.”

From the corner of her eye she watched as the halfling woman climbs onto the stool beside her, her dirty blond hair tightly braided, complexion darker than the usual halfling with a big scar across the side of her face along with other, smaller scars and of course wearing armor representing gold, silver, and blue of Bahamut.

“Oh like your weakness isn’t teriyaki chicken wings?” Xena mutters, tapping the booth waiting for her drink.

“Oooh don’t remind me, I haven’t had those in months!” the Halfling woman laughs.

Thankfully Xena didn’t have to wait long as her pint arrived along with the goat leg... though it looks magnificent and just asking to be devoured.

“What brings you here Lady Kima?” she asks, sipping her ale. “Don’t you and those dumb-asses have to keep Emon protected since you failed that last time around, also well done on that.”

“What? Can I not wonder about my vacation?” Lady Kima asks with a small smirk completely ignoring Xena’s comment.

“Not when you have Lady Allura waiting for you at home.” Xena was quick to reply.

Lady Kima’s dark complexion became darker as she clears her throat looking around nervously. “She is busy with her own things and I am not here to talk about such things. I am here for you though.”

“Oh? What happened? Is there something else they wanted to accuse me of?” She asks rolling her eyes. “Did I throw Timmy down the well?”

“No Xena this doesn’t have anything to do with the order and more of a personnel matter.” Lady Kima sighs. “I was given a vision... a dark one.”

Xena turns her head to Lady Kima, showing that she was paying attention. It wasn’t really all surprising that paladins got visions or messages from Bahamut it was just rare when they do give it so when one says they got a vision, you listen.

“I saw darkness taking root beneath Kraghammer, the dwarven city northeast of Emon in the Cliffkeep Mountains. I have been hiring a couple of mercenaries to accompany me into the mines and into the Underdark, and I want you to join me.” Just as she finished the sentence Xena choked back her drink.

Coughing a bit, wiping her mouth with her arm Xena looks over at Lady Kima in shock. “Okay first off you owe another ale, second of all wherein all your vision did it say ‘It’s dangerous to go alone, bring the half-orc that your order banished years ago!’ like seriously Kima.”

“Xena, the Order has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with my visions and they certainly have nothing to say about who I bring with me. Besides, in my vision; within the darkness, I saw a figure of a wolf within it, guiding me through the caves of the deep.”

There was a silence between the two.

“And the last murmurs I have heard here and in neighboring villages, that there is a half-orc wondering the area, helping the less fortunate, caring for those in need with the strength of ten men and eyes like a wolf, they call her Einn Ulfer... Lone Wolf, Now I wonder would such a person does not help her old mentor in her quest to suppress the darkness from taking hold in this world?” Lady Kima asks, gently placing it beside Xena’s hand.

Xena looks down at the object, taking a deep breath as she stares at her the most precious thing that was taken away from her, her holy symbol. The lizard her head purrs comfortingly, encouraging her to do what is right and help her Lady Kima.

Reaching over she picks up the symbol, grasping tightly to it as she feels the vibrating purrs in her head transfer slowly from her head down her body and into the item in her hand.

Xena sighs. “So, Kraghammer huh?”

Lady Kima smiles.

#critical role #vox machina #fanfiction #oc x canon

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logophilism · 4 years

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Fractured Starlight - Part 3

@grishaversebigbang

Jesper! He basically fails on a date-not-date and learns a piece of information vital to the plot to SoC. Yeah.

My gang:

Corporalki: @aragentum, @rebooka17

Materialki: @abaduchi, @paphns, @catpidgeon, @wavesofinkdrops, @erlaszx

@catpidgeon made a fanart inspired by this chapter -- go check it out!

Fic summary: A series of perspectives following the crows pre-SoC and post-CK. Canon compliant.

Word Count: 1716

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Part 3: Jesper

It started with an itch. It always did. The itch in his fingers, the restless energy that he tried to ignore, building, bubbling up inside him until he couldn’t anymore. And he knew, he knew how to satisfy that urge, that itch, that tingling just under his skin. He knew how the cards would feel sliding against each other in his hand, and how the Makker’s Wheel would click as it spun -- oh, that beautiful, beautiful sound.

And he also knew, just about, that he’d likely lose. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he was almost broke, that he’d soon be borrowing money for food, and that he still owed a couple hundred kruge to the last gambling hall he’d been to.

But he realized, as he found himself walking down the streets of the East Stave and searching out a high-stakes den, that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Debts he would worry about later, and for now, all there was would be the cards in his hands and the taste of risk on his tongue. And if it was nearly morning and there was nobody with him, well, as he stood in the shadows of the alleyway outside one of the gambling halls, he was very, very grateful.

There was a Grisha standing outside Morpheus’ Palace.

He almost stumbled when he saw her, dressed in a deep blue kefta trimmed with the intricate grey embroidery of a Squallor. She was tall, with hair, done up in an elaborate bun, just blonde enough to be Fjerdan. Pretty too, in an angular sort of way, her neck thin and her face sharp.

There was a silver brooch pinned to the kefta, just above her breast, inlaid with crystals that shimmered in the faint light of the building. The symbol of an--

Amplifier.

Shit.

Jesper drew in a breath. The woman stiffened, turned her gaze to the alley he stood in. She read him in a glance.

Oh, shit.

He tried to turn, run, but the Grisha’s eyes had locked onto his, trapped him in such an intense glare that all he could do was stumble a few helpless steps back as she started to approach, hand on hip, eyes like shards of ice.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Jesper cut in first.

“Hi, um, just passing through.” He almost winced. There were no other places in the region open at such an hour. He blustered on anyways, fixing an awkward smile to his face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind some directions to the nearest, um, restroom.”

A hand shot out and fingers clasped around his wrist. He flinched. The hand tightened.

“Are you really stupid enough to fabrikate inside a gambling hall?”

It should’ve been easy to reach for the pistol he carried on him. Should’ve. Not that it would’ve been much use anyways.

“Well, ah,” his throat was dry, his heart pounding, “I swear I wasn’t really planning on doing that.”

“And why would I trust you?” Her voice was sharper than her face.

“Because I,” he shrank back as far as her grip would allow, “Look trustworthy?”

An elegantly arched brow, a slight turn of her head as if to indicate here? Trustworthy, here?

She had a point. Unfortunately, that meant he didn’t. “Because I--” his palms were sweating, “I can’t fabrikate to save my life?”

One elegant eyebrow rose. “You’re a fabrikator, of course you can fabrikate.”

A swell of some odd feeling inside him. A tingling heat on his cheeks. “I’m not-- I wasn’t trained.”

Her eyes searched his face for a long moment before her grip loosened. Jesper snatched his hand back, rubbing his wrist with his other hand. Damn, the woman’s grip was strong.

It was then that a voice called out behind her, and she stiffened. Jesper’s hand flew to the pistol at his hip, but the Squallor raised a pale hand to stop him.

“I still don’t believe you, but I can’t stay and talk to you. Noon, Kooperom.” It wasn’t even a question.

Jesper, still trying to quell the beating of his heart as she walked away, forced a smile across his face. “Who’d refuse a pretty girl like you?”

It was almost worth the gust of wind slamming him into the wall.

His back still ached as he made his way to the Kooperom late that morning. He’d managed to dig up his tweed jacket from the university and a passable pair of black shoes that would probably fall apart before the end of the day, given how much he was shuffling and fidgeting. He adjusted the jacket.

He glanced at the clock tower.

He adjusted his jacket again.

Then, considerably past twelve, he strode into the Kooperom with a posture of forced relaxation. Then, he saw her.

Her hair was done in a simple braid, her clothes plain and somewhat bland. When she glanced up at him, she merely glanced at the chair opposite her before turning back to her food with an entirely unimpressed expression on her face.

He gulped.

His heart thumping up in his throat, he strode over to the empty seat, sliding into it and draping a long arm over the back of it. He felt strange doing so, almost as if he was plunging into something incredibly dangerous, but, well, who said he was cautious?

“Why, hello--”

“Stop, shut up,” She glanced over at him, “And stop twitching. You’re late.”

“Fashionably, of course,” Jesper tried for a smile.

She ignored him. “What I want to know is,” she leaned back in her chair, “Why haven’t I heard of you?”

He blinked. “Come again?”

“Apart from the Council of Tides, the Grisha in Ketterdam know each other, or at least know of each other. Even the ones who don’t know of the rest of us are watched, and yet the only Zemeni fabrikator I know of is an old woman.”

Jesper blinked. His mouth fell open slightly, mouthing the beginning of something, but his thoughts had frozen.

“Now, that normally wouldn’t mean much, but last night you said you weren’t trained to use your powers. But with your power and any kind of regular usage, you’d be able to cheat in a gambling hall. And that made me think. If you were sincere, that means you don’t use your powers very much, do you?”

“Stop,” he finally managed to croak, his voice faint and his head spinning with how surreal the conversation was becoming. He knew on some level he was Grisha -- Zowa, whatever -- obviously, but to hear it spoken of so matter-of-factly with a stranger he’d met not even a day before in broad daylight in the middle of the Barrel… “Should we even be talking about this here?”

She gave him a small smile. “I’m a Squallor. They’ll hear what I want them to hear.”

Oh. Oh. He blinked. “Well, I-- um, no, I don’t.”

She looked at him seriously, her soup all but forgotten. “You have to know that’s not good for you.”

He looked at her blankly.

She sighed. “Look, I’m trying to help you. Grisha to grisha. What I’m offering is connections. You wouldn’t have to hide your powers so much if you had others looking out for you.”

And something clicked inside of him, and he started panicking. “No,” he shook his head, wringing his hands. Nobody can know. “No, don’t tell anyone.” His voice was wavering slightly.

The woman’s face softened. “Are you sure?”

“Please.”

She looked at him, then offered a single-shouldered shrug. “You can always change your mind.”

There was a long silence in which the Squallor turned back to her soup. Jesper adjusted his jacket.

“Well then,” he started, lounging backwards. His voice almost — but only almost — cracked, “You’re not married, are you?”

His chair tipped over.

The conversation carried on like that for a while, with him flirting and failing and being incredibly charming. Then it changed. He didn’t know when he’d started pleading with her, when he’d started rambling, wringing his hands, begging. He knew he looked pathetic, probably, but he was desperate enough to not care.

“Please, tell me.”

He hadn’t even gotten around to asking her name.

“Please?”

Maybe it was when she’d hesitated when he’d asked after gambling halls without Amplifiers. Maybe it was when she’d turned him down for the third time and he’d finally accepted that. Maybe it was when she’d refused to answer when he asked her a direct question.

“Pretty please?”

And all she was doing was eating and ignoring him. She who knew something about hiding from Amplifiers. She who might know, being an Amplifier herself.

“Pretty pretty please?”

“Stop,” she said, her spoon clattering against the side of her bowl. Her expression was conflicted. “You know I shouldn’t tell you.”

“But you will?”

She ignored him. “I have to go,” she said abruptly. Then, placing both hands on the table, she stood up. Before Jesper had even half risen out of his seat, a cry on his lips, the door had closed behind her.

Well, damn.

His heart tightened inside his chest, and a cold shame flushed through him. He could give up any hope of an answer now. He’d scared off his date, or acquaintance, or possible future friend, or whatever she was. Or annoyed the hell out of her, if the speed at which she left was any indication. That was a new low, even for him -- Had he really been that bad?

He sat back down slowly, looking at her empty dishes, then at the small bowl of soup he’d ordered that he hadn’t even finished.

Damn.

He hoped, vaguely, she wouldn’t tell anyone he was a fabrikator. Then he shook himself. He’d probably pissed her off, badly, and she had no obligation to do anything he asked. A knot tied itself in his stomach.

He really was an idiot, wasn’t he?

His face fell into his hands, but his gaze wandered, and he noticed the folded napkin under one of her plates. Huh. That was strange. The Kooperom didn’t provide napkins. He stared at it for a while, then reached forward and tugged it out, unfolding it. He looked at it in confusion.

Written across it in a slanting scrawl was one word.

Paraffin.

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A/N: The flow’s not entirely right, but it was getting worse the more I edited it. So, feedback?

#grishaverse #six of crows #grisha #jesper fahey #fanfic #fractured starlight #gvbbcreation

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matrixaffiliate · 4 years

Text

Quarry

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

Hooray for Friday updates! I'll be back on February 29th with chapters 49 and 50. (Because I'm sort of geeking out over posting on leap year, but I'm weird that way...)

Chapter 47

Sirius:

Sirius noticed them walking down to the grounds and smirked. Apparently, James' plan to use archery lessons was extending into their current circumstances.

He had started to move toward them when he remembered why he was out at the training grounds in the first place. As much as he may have wanted to go to Marlene, he had an oath to uphold. Trying to ignore the bitterness that only made him angry with himself, Sirius threw himself back into his regimen to rebuild the strength he lost while recovering.

He was so caught up, he almost didn't hear her.

"You're quiet on your feet," he turned to find her about ten feet away from him.

"I was trying to be," she smirked at him and Sirius felt his smile break across his face.

"Couldn't stay away?"

It was too easy to fall with her, fall into conversation, fall into her stare, fall in love.

"You're a great deal less tiresome than those two," she gestured back at James and Lily with a teasing grin.

"Of course, I am. I haven't got a royal bone in my body."

She laughed and Sirius couldn't help but move closer to her.

"Oh, you've got at least one tiresome bone though, seeing as you've yet to tell me how we're going to get James bound in my oath."

There was an edge in her voice that felt like a challenge. And maybe it was that Remus had told everyone to go easy on him, or maybe it was the way her eyes flashed as she spoke, or maybe it was simply Sirius could never stop playing with fire, but whatever the reason, he goaded Marlene.

"You've yet to give me a reason to do so."

Ice started to form behind her blue eyes as she bristled.

"Are you implying that you don't find my skills adequate?"

Sirius flashed her a grin, "All I said was, I don't have a reason."

She stepped up to him and pointed at the foils and wasters and other practice weapons kept on the training grounds.

"Choose your sword, Black, and I'll give you your reason right now."

"We ought to choose the same, don't you think?" Sirius strode over to the practice swords. "After all, this waster," he picked up the one used for broadsword training, "would destroy a foil."

"Then leave them," Marlene shrugged and smirked at him, "I've been trained in hand to hand combat."

Sirius knew this was a dangerous game. Could he wrestle her now, after having held her closer than he had ever held another being? Could he keep it a contest of strength and not a repeat of the previous evening? Could he play with fire and not get burned?

"Winner chooses how we go about evening out our responsibilities." She held out her hand.

"Agreed," Sirius took her hand in his and resisted the urge to pull her into him.

When they'd traveled together, Sirius learned a fair bit of what Marlene's training had been. Almost none of it had instructed her on the oath she'd taken or the intricacies of it. It had entirely centered around combat, whether with her wand, her sword, or her firsts, Marlene was a coiled snake that looked like a delicate gold brooch. And Sirius realized he'd just agreed to spar with a woman who could probably kill him in her sleep.

But based on their previous rendezvous, Sirius hoped she'd at least let him live, if for no other reason than she admitted she loved him.

They took a few paces back from each other and Sirius felt the familiarity of combat training take over his brain. It was as if he was thrown right back into those days when Ruth and Elias started training him. Muscle memory thankfully overpowered the part of his brain that couldn't separate now from yesterday, and he was able to spar without too much distraction.

But he was still weak, and Marlene played that to her advantage. She forced him to move as much as she could and rather than simply block his strikes, she'd force his momentum to spin them around making Sirius work harder to stay on his feet. It was the most frustrating because Sirius knew that he would have been fine if they'd performed this little display before Enid. But now, Marlene's antics were draining him.

"Need a break?" Marlene grinned at him.

"You're in perfect condition you know," Sirius cursed his labored breath. "And I'm coming back from the dead."

"So that's a yes?" She almost got his arm but Sirius just managed to escape her grip.

"No, it's a point to be made," he deflected her strike but had to spin quickly to keep her in front of him.

"Next you'll tell me that you've been working hard all day while I've been sitting around doing nothing." She smirked before striking again.

Sirius only barely made the block.

"And you'd be right."

"Do you have enough of a reason now?"

Marlene started to close the distance between them and Sirius knew he was losing energy fast.

"If I'm not mistaken, I'm still on my feet."

He was insane, he knew, but Marlene seemed to bring that out in him. He couldn't not play with fire.

She moved so quickly that Sirius almost missed what she was going for. But in his exhausted state, he could only watch as she sprung at him and managed to knock his feet out from under him and pin him to the ground.

"You know, I do believe you are mistaken."

Sirius' breathing was labored for a new reason now as Marlene held his arms down.

"And for some reason, I'm not worried about it," he smirked up at her, pleased to see her eyes darkening as she stared down at him.

"Suddenly this victory seems a touch hollow..."

Sirius chuckled, "Because you know I've been goading you this whole time?"

Marlene glared at him and Sirius gave in to the emotions he'd been fighting since he saw her come down to the training grounds.

He summoned the last of his strength and pushed up to kiss her.

"We're going to get found out," Marlene whispered as he fell back to the dirt below him.

"And I don't care," he reached for her hands as she released his wrists. "I'll come by tonight, we'll figure out how to get you bound to James."

The ghost of a smile touched Marlene's lips. "It'll have to be after Lily has gone to sleep."

Sirius let her pull him up with a grin, "So much the better."

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ladylynse · 5 years

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Hey, @queenofhearts7378, I finally got another part of your prize written.... *grins* Here’s Part V of Whirlwind! [FF | AO3] Here’s the timeline post if anyone wants a refresher, or you can check out Part IV again.

6:16 PM

Jake didn’t expect his cell phone to start ringing, but he wasn’t entirely surprised to answer it and find Danny on the other end of the line. The line crackled with wind, meaning Danny was moving and doing a poor job of sheltering his phone, and if he was calling without stopping— “What’s up?” Jake asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer. Hadn’t getting reamed out by his mom been enough? If something had gone wrong with Danny’s fight with cat boy—

“Did you give your Fenton Phone away to some guy calling himself the Ninja?”

Jake groaned. He wasn’t even halfway to the shop—on foot, because he wasn’t wholly eager to get there and explain the whole disaster to Gramps and Fu when it would just mean he’d be yelled at in Chinese and subtly reminded that this was important—and this was not the news he wanted to hear. “Aw, man, he didn’t call to report the fire, did he?” If Danny knew about the Ninja, then he probably knew about everything else, too, and Jake was not in the mood to deal with this right now. At least nothing had gone drastically wrong with cat boy or Danny would have led with that. Not that one bright spot stood for much in this mess. These Miraculous things sounded important, and the Dragon Council was not going to be impressed if they found out he couldn’t stop people from misusing magical artefacts.

Especially when he’d gotten a warning from the Oracle twins.

“What fire?”

“Okay, look, there was this big deal fashion show in town. My mom was catering it. But it’s spitting distance from where we caught cat boy, and the Ninja had already fought someone I’m pretty sure was powered up by our friend with the Butterfly Brooch. I went to warn my mom and things went south.”

“You…. Are you telling me you set the building on fire?”

“Not intentionally! And the sprinklers put it out anyway. My point is, I kinda ruined the show and Mom sent me back to the shop to get Fu and Gramps for backup. She figures we’re gonna need more help—”

“From what the Ninja was saying, she’s not wrong. He won’t give details, but he figures something bad’s about to go down.” The wind noise died away; wherever Danny was, he’d finally stopped moving. “Look, Jake, about Chat Noir. Cat boy. I don’t think we have this right. I don’t think he’s the bad guy here. He was scared of me.”

“You’re a ghost. He probably knew he couldn’t touch you.”

A snort. “That wasn’t it. He could’ve distracted me by endangering a whole bunch of people’s lives, but he never tried it.”

“Maybe because he couldn’t touch you and wanted to stay on your good side? If his partner’s got this Brooch of Metamorphosis—”

“The only time he mentioned his partner was when he said he could beat me without them.”

“Right, because apparently his partner’s working the show my mom was catering. Until I tried to warn her and wrecked it.”

“Just…double check what your book says about the Cat Ring and the Butterfly Brooch. This Ninja guy said he thought things were gonna turn fast, and…. I dunno, Jake. I want to make sure we’re on the right side of this. Something doesn’t feel right.”

They couldn’t really afford to ignore the Oracle twins’ warnings on the basis of feelings, but Jake trusted Danny. “Chill. I’ll take a second look. Or make Fu do it.” Danny’s silence made it clear he wasn’t convinced, so Jake asked Danny for identifying landmarks and told him which way to fly to get to the show. If the Ninja had read the situation right, Jake didn’t really want him to be the only one on the scene.

Danny hadn’t said what had happened with his fight with cat boy—Chat Noir—but Jake could read between the lines. Chat Noir might not have destroyed anything, but he’d managed to give Danny the slip. Jake knew Danny’s skills; that would be almost impossible to do alone. But if he’d managed to make contact with his partner….

Jake ducked into the nearest alley and transformed, heading straight for the shop. Whether or not Danny was right, whether or not the Ninja was right, they needed to figure this out. He was the American Dragon. He couldn’t keep dragging his feet like this. Angry as his mom had been, she might even ask Haley to help him on this. (Unfortunately, Jake knew that if Haley had already been helping him, the mess at the show wouldn’t have happened. She wouldn’t have had any trouble sneaking in to go warn their mom about the danger. She was too cute for people to suspect her. It was really annoying.)

He was barely through the back door of the shop when his cell phone was ringing again. “Did you get lost?” he asked, knowing it was going to be Danny.

“Please tell me you have a cousin in town or something.”

“Uh….”

“Crud. I should’ve known. Just grab Fu and Gramps and get down here as fast as you can. Don’t, uh, worry about being inconspicuous. You can’t make things worse.”

Danny hung up before Jake could ask for details.

Fu brushed the chip crumbs from his chest and pushed away the book he’d been reading. “You and Phantom walk into some planned catastrophe?”

Jake wasn’t even sure where to start. “Yo, we need to get down to the gala Mom’s catering. Like, now. Something happened. I’ll fill in you and G on the rest of the stuff on the way.”

Fu stared at him. “Kid—”

“I’m gonna call Haley to be on standby.” He hated that he was doing this, but he had some idea of what Danny had been through, and his idea of bad…. “Grab that old book on the Miraculous and bring it.”

“Jake? What is going on?”

He hadn’t even noticed Gramps appear in the back of the store. “Something…bad,” he said. “I don’t—”

His cell phone rang again.

Jake answered it without even looking. “Yo, can you spill a few—?”

“Turn on the news, Jakey.”

He blinked. “Trixie?” He’d been expecting Danny again.

“News. Now. Like, any local channel.” And then she hung up.

And then he got a text from Spud. U want us on Rotwood duty?

Jake ran for the nearest functioning TV.

It didn’t take him long to find out what was up. It was on every channel. After all, it was hard to miss. There was a dragon circling above what remained of the crowd from the fashion show gala.

The camera cut to show the Ninja yelling up at the dragon, who paid him no mind.

“Aw, maaan.”

XXXXXXXXX

6:35 PM

Adrien was standing on the platform of the metro, waiting to transfer, when he heard about the dragon.

It started as a sudden exclamation by a young woman telling her friends. At first, he’d thought he’d misunderstood, but then he heard pieces of the story from other hushed—and not so hushed—conversations in the crowd. The ruined fashion show. The fire trucks and other emergency vehicles. The dragon that was surely the cause of it all.

Hawk Moth must have recalled Phantom’s akuma. He must have found someone else to transform, another soul to twist. Except….

Except Adrien had already seen a dragon, or thought he had, and hearing of one now was proof enough. He’d seen one when he’d been captured by Phantom. Which meant neither Phantom nor the dragon were the ones who had been originally akumatized; it was someone else, someone who had the ability to turn others into fairy tale creatures.

If Hawk Moth had wanted to cause chaos, this was surely the way to do it. Adrien had been able to defeat the Critic, would have managed it even without the Ninja’s help, but he couldn’t fight multiple battles on multiple fronts without Ladybug. He might be able to bring her back one akuma, if there were some way to capture and trap it, but not one for every magical creature Hawk Moth intended for him to face. He’d have to find the person who was transforming everyone, and he wouldn’t have a chance to do that until they showed their hand.

Unless they already had.

Ninjas didn’t really count as fairy tale creatures, but they were steeped in legend. The Ninja hadn’t seemed like a bad person, but he might not even realize what he’d gotten into. Hawk Moth gave some of his victims more autonomy than others, and if the Ninja didn’t even realize he was creating monsters to fight—

No. The Ninja had made no move to get his Miraculous, and even if Hawk Moth had assumed Ladybug and Chat Noir had been left behind in Paris, he’d be quick to make that correction. Especially when Ladybug wasn’t here. Hawk Moth might not care about the damage he left behind, but Adrien certainly did, and he suspected Hawk Moth knew that.

If Hawk Moth didn’t want him, hadn’t counted on him or Ladybug being here, then he wanted something else. Other Miraculous, perhaps. There must be more. He’d think that’s what the Ninja had if his costume had made some sort of reference to an animal. Plagg thought other magic was at play, but if it was, how had Hawk Moth found out about it? He knew about the Miraculous, certainly knew more about the Miraculous than Adrien did, so maybe that’s all it was. Maybe he didn’t know about the other magic here, whatever form that magic took. And if there was another Miraculous in New York City—

He couldn’t be sure. Not yet. He’d find out more when he fought to protect the city from the dragon. If he was lucky, the dragon would be as talkative as Phantom had been. And if he was really lucky, the Ninja would turn up again to help him.

Adrien checked the time. His train wasn’t due for at least another minute, and there was an attack happening now. He could travel much faster as Chat Noir than as Adrien. He didn’t know this city from above, but he knew where he was, and he knew where he was going. That would have to be enough.

Adrien slipped away in search of a place to transform and hoped he’d get there before too much damage was done.

XXXXXXX

6:41 PM

There was so much fire.

Randy heaved another Ninja Hydro Hand at the flames licking the pavement and was rewarded with a curtain of steam. (How could stone burn, anyway? That was wonk. What kind of magic was this?) He knew he wasn’t out of Ninja Cold Balls yet, but his supply had to be running low.

The smart people in the crowd had run screaming. Too many of them had lagged behind, thinking this was some kind of show. Because fire-breathing dragons were always part of some kind of show. And anyone who could afford to buy something at a fashion show like this had a lot of money, so the people putting on this show had a lot of money, and cool pyrotechnics were almost expected these days.

…Or did people just attend these things and not actually buy something? He really had no idea.

The dragon overhead swooped low, dodged with unfair ease the Ninja Electro-Ball he threw at her (it?), and sent a blaze of fire between him and the crowd, pushing them back.

Randy groaned.

He hadn’t looked closely recently, being too busy dealing with the dragon, but he was pretty sure some of the flashing lights he could still see belonged to firetrucks. He was also pretty sure the firefighters hadn’t just abandoned their jobs to gawk at the dragon, gawk-worthy as she clearly was.

But he was the Ninja.

Fighting a dragon.

In a place where crazy stunts were more the norm than actual magic.

He had no idea what it would take to convince people that this wasn’t a setup and that they were actually in danger. Then again, the dragon hadn’t targeted them specifically. Driven them back, yes, but she hadn’t pulled any shoob move that would’ve resulted in some extra-crispy attendees. She hadn’t gone after any of the vehicles, trying to make something explode or cause more damage. She hadn’t even really done much to the building. She’d mostly just cleared the area in front and, well, focused on him. Which, despite totally being his plan when he’d run after her, was…odd, now that he thought about it.

He went through the motions, calling up another Ninja Hydro Hand, and glanced up.

She was flying lazy circles overhead, expertly avoiding buildings but still managing to catch updrafts when she needed them. She flew like she was an expert at it, like she’d studied it all her life or had a natural skill for aerodynamics. Maybe she studied birds in her free time or something.

She was watching him, her eyes never seeming to flick away from his figure, as if she had some kind of sixth sense and didn’t even need to watch where she was going.

He doused the flames.

She dove.

He tossed a Ninja Bee Ball at her before remembering that their stingers probably wouldn’t pierce dragon hide, and she set the stone on fire again.

He was hot enough that he was seriously debating the merits of using a Ninja Cold Ball on himself, but at least the mask—or maybe its magic—helped him to withstand all the smoke.

“What do you want?” he yelled at her. She’d flown up out of range of anything he could throw at her—again—and had resumed watching him. Maybe she was just trying to wear him out. Maybe he shouldn’t keep putting out the fire. Except then there would be fire, and that would be bad.

At least, when he was fighting robots or monsters, he knew what they wanted. How was he supposed to stop a fire-breathing dragon who didn’t seem to have any kind of goal beyond playing with him until he dropped to the ground out of sheer exhaustion? She hadn’t said anything. He didn’t know if she could even speak or if she’d just spout unintelligible monster gibberish. He’d only heard her roar, which in retrospect had served well when it came to scaring half the crowd away.

He wished it had scared the whole crowd away.

Seriously, people in the place needed to learn when to run.

He wished the Am Drag would come back. This dragon was bigger than the Am Drag, but he could at least fly and catch her. Alternatively, Randy wouldn’t mind Chat Noir turning up again. He could clearly get some good height with his baton stick thing, providing he’d managed to find it wherever Randy had dropped it, and if they worked together, they could totally take this dragon down. He seemed to have some idea of what the whole evil butterfly thing was, too.

Honestly, though, Randy would settle for Mr. Mysterious Voice finally showing up.

Randy didn’t realize he’d gone back to staring at the flames until they were suddenly covered in ice and then gone altogether. He blinked, wondering if he’d thrown a Ninja Cold Ball and somehow immediately forgotten about it.

“Ninja, we need to talk,” a familiar voice said from behind him, and Randy turned.

The voice in question belonged to a teenager (just like him) who didn’t seem to be holding any weapons (just like him) but whose suit was definitely wonk, even by Randy’s standards. The white hair was kinda distinctive, too, and he wasn’t wearing a mask, but maybe secret identities weren’t as much of a thing in the NYC because of all the people.

Randy pointed upwards. “Dragon.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that. I wanna know what else you know. Like why there’s a dragon.”

Randy stared. “You don’t find a dragon weird? I mean, that’s a real, actual, live, fire-breathing dragon. Emphasis on fire-breathing.”

The boy looked up and considered the dragon for a moment, who miraculously hadn’t decided to dive again and try to fry them both where they stood. Randy decided not to question his spot of good luck. “Yeah,” the boy finally said, “I guess you’re right about the living part. Unfortunately.”

“Wh…how…what? Why is that the part you’re questioning?” His voice did not climb when he said that. Howard did not have it recorded, so it didn’t happen. “I saw a woman get turned into a dragon!”

“A woman, huh?” The boy bit his lip and glanced toward the crowd. As if they were the problem and not the dragon. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I was afraid of. Um. Let’s talk inside.” He made a vague gesture toward the building.

Since Randy had a mask over his face, the other boy couldn’t appreciate his gaping. “I’m in the middle of a fight!”

The boy shook his head. “You’re not fighting. You’re being tested. I was watching. The dragon’s never gone for the crowd, just made you think that so you’d react. She wants to know what you can do.”

Randy crossed his arms. “So why’s she not testing you?”

The boy looked up at her again. “Maybe because she already knows what I can do?” he offered, though his words were full of enough doubt that Randy was entirely unconvinced. “This isn’t my first time in the city, and I think…. I think I know who she is, and the whole dragon thing isn’t normal for her.” He said that like it was normal for anybody, but if Randy asked, it would just delay the fight for longer. And the dragon was still watching them. Waiting. He didn’t like counting on the fact that she’d keep waiting. The moment he did that was the moment she’d stop and decide to move. And then it really would be a fight, even if Mr. Mysterious Voice didn’t think it had been before now. (What kind of shoob stood back to watch a dragon when he could clearly help fight it because he also could do stuff with ice?)

“We need to help her,” the boy continued. He looked back at Randy. “Seriously, can we just talk inside or otherwise away from the cameras for, like, two minutes? I really don’t want my face plastered all over the news if I can help it.”

He was not going to give up on the talking thing, was he? Randy scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe we’re getting away with this,” he muttered, but he followed the new kid and ran for cover.

XXXXXX

6:45 PM

The darkened suite of his hotel room was quiet, safely away from the chaos of the gala for all that it was so near, but Gabriel had still expected to be able to hear screams from across the street, to hear the wailing sirens and the dragon’s roar and the shouts of the failing heroes. Instead, the silence began to stretch, as if everyone were waiting.

When a second hero had run out to join the first, he hadn’t questioned Dracona’s decision to wait. He had not seen if this new hero had come with hidden friends; neither had she. When she’d decided to tilt her wings and circle again, he’d thought her reconnaissance a wise move. But then she’d let the Ninja and the new hero run off to the relative safety of the evacuated site of the gala, and her only response had been to bank right, beat her wings a few times, and circle again.

“Why are you not pursuing them, Dracona?” Gabriel growled, clenching his cane tighter. The Ninja had shown more of his hand, but the newest hero…. Gabriel knew nothing of him, aside from his ability to spread ice in a speed and volume great enough to counter Dracona’s flames.

“You wanted information about this city’s superheroes.” He could sense laughter in her response. “I’ve gotten a good look at the Ninja and have run into Phantom before. Neither belongs in this city.”

Gabriel let out a slow breath. “Where they belong doesn’t matter. They are acting as heroes—”

“Where they belong matters immensely. You only wanted information on this city’s heroes.”

“They are fighting in this city,” he answered through gritted teeth. “However temporarily, that makes them this city’s heroes.”

“I don’t agree. Their loyalty remains elsewhere. Help though they may, the responsibility of the NYC falls on the shoulders of other heroes.”

He should have her writhing in pain for even thinking of speaking to him this way, but she’d be more useful to him if he delayed that method until further pressed. After all, if she still gave him the information he wanted…. “You said you are familiar with this Phantom. Tell me about him.”

“His chosen name is rather explanatory.”

Then again, if she continued to be difficult, he just needed to—

Gabriel frowned. There was no disruption in their connection, but his displeasure wasn’t being translated into pain. Instead, he felt laughter, as if she knew precisely what he’d tried to do, and—

“You unlocked my power,” she breathed, “but you do not control it.”

And then there was nothing. No sensations, no feedback, no knowledge of Dracona’s that he could use to further his plan. She was his champion, but she had somehow managed to shut him out.

“Dark wings fall.” Something was wrong, something was faulty, something was— “Nooroo, why is this happening?”

The kwami ducked his head. “She is right, master,” he murmured. “My magic only served as a key for her latent power.”

“Then we’ll lock it up again,” Gabriel snarled. He had read of many types of magic, but none that would cause a reaction such as this. “We’ll see how bold she is once my akuma is recalled.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, master.”

Gabriel bit down on the urge to restrict Nooroo’s speech; right now, Nooroo was the only source of information he had. “And why do you say that?”

“I…I don’t know if I can contain her magic with mine now that the path is established.”

“Her magic.” Nooroo would know he was asking for details. The kwami would also know how displeased he’d be if he wasn’t given them.

“It’s a blood magic, not something that can be taken a—”

“But something that can be used?”

Nooroo hesitated.

That was all the answer Gabriel needed.

The means might be more complicated, but he had need of magic, and if he’d happened to akumatize someone with a direct line to that magic, he’d be a fool not to capitalize upon it. She might not want to give him the information he required, but she’d agreed to the contract, and she couldn’t shut him out forever. She had to tell him something.

Even if it was only about herself.

(see more fics | next)

#secret quartet #adjl #danny phantom #miraculous ladybug #rc9gn #fanfiction #crossover #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #ml snippet #dp snippet #adjl snippet #rc9gn snippet

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miraculouslysam · 5 years

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Marionette: Tales of an Accidental Teenage Anti-Hero

Hey all! Here’s the first part of my fic for @marinettemarch.

Synopsis: When teenager Marinette Dupain-Cheng stumbles upon the butterfly kwami, she takes on the moniker "Marionette" and becomes a vigilante dispensing her own unique form of justice. Even with a moniker so close to her actual name, no one suspects a thing.

AO3 link

Prompt: Day 2 - Pre-Origins

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Before the girl even turned around, she knew she’d be looking the blonde straight in her sneer. She bit back a groan and plastered on a poker face.

“What do you want, Chloé?”

_______________

Every day was the same. Marinette would wake up, cursing that it still wasn’t just a nightmare. She would spend the whole morning- or however much was left of it, anyway, since she seemed to be chronically late- building up her courage for the day. While getting dressed, she would remind herself how cool she was for designing her own clothing. While pulling her hair into her signature bun? Telling herself that it gave her just a little more power not to hide her face. While eating? Enforcing that she was strong, and nourishment helped her stay that way.

Then she would go to school. It wasn’t that she didn’t have friends. She found that she got along moderately well with nearly every person in her class. She just didn’t find herself particularly close with or fond of anyone. And she certainly did not think they felt the same about her.

But that was fine. Marinette never expected anything from anyone, not really. She expected Chloé to bully her, to try finding new ways to make her feel less than human every day. She expected Sabrina to go along with whatever Chloé’s scheme of the day was. But beyond that, she expected nothing from anyone else. She did not expect for any of her classmates to stand up for her, nor did she expect for any member of her school’s administration to give her tormentors any punishments. Not when the threat of Daddy Dearest loomed over their heads.

So, she dealt with it. She sat quietly each day and took whatever it was that Chloé chose to throw at her. If she saw Chloé bullying someone else, she would always talk to whoever it was afterward to make sure they were okay. Marinette hoped that spreading kindness into the world would bring it back to her, but it never seemed to. She figured cosmic retribution was too much to ask from the universe, but a bit of kindness didn’t seem like it should’ve been out of the realm of possibility. She didn’t expect anything, but it would have been a pleasant surprise.

Every day, she went home and recounted its events to her parents, then went up to her room and crossed off another day on her calendar, counting down the days until summer vacation. Her parents didn’t do much to help either, but at least they listened. Marinette understood they couldn’t do much beyond that, so she threw her frustrations into her creations, promising herself that all the bullying was doing was teaching her how to handle the cruelty she would face in the fashion industry. It all would be worth it in the long run, she swore.

_______________

As summer rolled around, Marinette found herself with elevated spirits. Summer meant a few months of sweet relief from Chloé, with nothing but time to explore Paris for inspiration and to create. Paris in the summer meant jazz flowing through the streets and new people to study. There was no shortage of creative inspiration.

One day, while visiting the open-air markets, Marinette found herself taking a detour through a quieter street and stumbling upon an abandoned building. It was beautiful, albeit rundown, and it wasn’t long before Marinette was entering to explore the inside.

As she walked through the building, she tripped over what she thought was a rock. Upon further examination, she realized it was a mahogany box, carved with an inscription of some sort. She felt a burst of curiosity course through her and left for home, box in hand.

At home, sitting at her desk with her sketchbook open and pencils laid out, she began drawing the box from various angles. Opening it, she shoved herself back as a flash of purple light and a small… bug? she didn’t recognize flew out. A scream escaped her mouth as the thing spoke to her. “Hello! My name is Nooroo. What’s yours?”

Marinette took three deep breaths, but they did no good to calm her. “My name is Marinette. This can’t be real. I’m just dreaming, right? Maybe when I tripped, I actually hit my head and I’m unconscious right now. I’m going to wake up and this is all going to be a figment of my imagination.”

The purple thing- it called itself Nooroo, right?- levelled its eyes with hers. “I can promise you, Marinette, I am not a figment of your imagination. But I hope that means you’re a creative person; we’ll work far better together if you are. I’m a kwami. I can give you the power to turn people into your champions from their emotions. You just have to start by putting on the miraculous.” Nooroo pointed back at the box, and Marinette finally noticed the brooch sitting in it. It wouldn’t go with her usual clothing, if she chose to use it. She’d have to make some new clothes to help it blend in.

As she clipped it to her blazer, she asked how it would give her powers.

“Well, the powers I give you work differently than those of the other miraculouses. From the first time you transform, you’ll discover a couple of things. First, you will find butterflies are drawn to you. They arre part of how you turn people into your champions. I suggest keeping a garden or visiting butterfly gardens to remain inconspicuous, but they will flock to you more the longer you use the miraculous. You can call them to you when using your powers as well. The other thing you will notice is you can sense other people’s charged emotions, positive or negative. The stronger the emotions are, the easier it is to… manipulate them. I cannot think of a better word to describe the phenomenon, unfortunately.”

Marinette took a moment to wrap her mind around what the being was saying. “So… you’re telling me that I’m gonna be a Disney princess in hiding, who also can make people do my bidding? Why would I want to do that, and how would that even be possible?”

“I don’t know what a Disney princess is, but I suppose that would be a fair assessment if it is what you have come up with to compare it to. As for your other questions, you would do so to help them; you will be a hero! You transform by saying ‘wings rise.’ Once you are transformed, you can will a butterfly to you and transfer power to it to deliver to the person you wish to become your champion. The butterfly will then fly to that person and enter an emotionally-charged possession. You then can speak to the person and help them determine if they are willing to become your champion. We can test the emotion-sensing aspect now if you would like.”

Marinette couldn’t help but feel intrigued. Before she knew it, a sure smile was slipping onto her face. “Let’s do it. Nooroo, wings rise.”

#marinette march #marinette dupain cheng #kwami swap #ml au #moth!mari #nooroo #butterfly miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fic by sam

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feywildatheart · 4 years

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Dear Marsa,

Elyn and I went skydiving today, and it was -- well, it was terrifying, for obvious reasons. But my package from Nellaser's Landing arrived this morning, with my brooch from the Commemoration of Grace that I had enchanted into an amulet of feather fall, and while they sent paperwork that more or less covers the specifics of the enchantment, there's a difference between knowing something you've been told, and knowing something because you've experienced it. And I wasn't going to stop being so afraid until I knew that I was protected. So I went and found Elyn where she was lying on the beach and asked her if she wanted to help me do something stupid, which she agreed to somewhat more readily and with far fewer questions than I'd honestly anticipated. Perhaps she just figured that if I was planning on doing something stupid, she definitely wanted to be there to help clean up the aftermath.

In any case, I explained to her about the amulet, and wanting to test it, and maybe I'd oversold the stupidity of what I wanted to do, because she sounded as though she thought I was thinking about jumping off a cliff or something, when I was really just thinking about climbing a tree and jumping from there, at least until I was sure of the enchantment. So we found a tree with enough branches that I could climb it, but not so many that I couldn't find a clear path down, and with Elyn at the bottom in case this all went very wrong and I needed some healing, I gathered up my courage and ignored the butterflies in my stomach and jumped, from perhaps twenty feet or so up.

I still felt like I was falling normally, and I landed a bit harder than I expected, but I landed on my feet and wasn't hurt at all. So I scrambled back up again to see if it would still work, or if it was a once-a-aday sort of thing. (The documentation didn't say anything about limits on the number of uses, but if that was an oversight I wanted to find out now, and not at some point in the future when I was depending on it to work only to discover its limitations the hard way.)

It worked just as well the second time as it had the first, and that's when Elyn suggested going skydiving to give it a try from a greater height, in a way that would still have a parachute for backup if it turned out not to work after all, and I agreed, perhaps a bit too readily, and then found my moms to invite them along, and then found Cloudleaper to leave Squirt in her care.

We found a place that was happy to take us skydiving, at least until I explained my intent not to deploy the parachute, at which point they had some severe and understandable reservations. It took some doing, but after a thorough review of the amulet's documentation, a demonstration in which I jumped from the building's roof to show them how it worked, and a whole stack of waivers that I signed acknowledging that this was an incredibly stupid thing I was asking them to let me do, they reluctantly agreed, on the condition that if I seemed to be falling at a pace with everyone else, I was to deploy my parachute, and if I didn't, they were going to do so remotely.

I agreed, and so up we went, and that's about the point where I realized that I'd been a bit overeager in agreeing to Elyn's suggestion, because it turns out that jumping out of a tree or even off of a building is not very like being carried off by a roc, but being in a plane up high in the sky is very like that, especially once they opened the doors and I had to stand there at the edge and choose to jump out. Of course it was going to remind me of being in the roc's claws and choosing to twist free of them, choosing to fall and probably die over staying and probably dying.

But that was the whole reason I was doing that, and I needed to know that I was protected, so I screwed up my courage and pushed down my bile and jumped out of the plane. I suspect I may have screamed the entire way down.

It was a little reassuring, once I realized that I was falling slower than the others were. A little less so, once the pulled their chutes and I went rocketing past them. But I was going fast enough that time that I did feel the effects of the amulet kick in to slow me, so that when I landed I did feel almost featherish, whereas when I'd jumped from the tree I'd felt rather more like a boulder.

Afterwards, Elyn convinced me to go a second time, so I could experience the parachute part, and I convinced the instructors, and so we all went again, and it really was lovely to gently drift down and look out over the land stretched out below us. And I didn't feel half so nauseous when I jumped out the second time, so I suppose there's that.

We've gone paragliding since, to, because it occurred to Elyn that we could almost immediately after it occurred to her that we might go skydiving, and then I spent some time helping her come up with questions to ask her parents' spirits, because she's been doing a lot of that while we've been here, too. I helped her with it the first time, letting her channel through me, but she decided it was weird to do so with someone she knows, or just said so because she's worried it was weird or upsetting for me, even though I've told her it wasn't. But since that first time, I've been helping mostly just by being there with and for her. It's hard for her, of course, even though she's only been asking about things like why the ship crashed and if there was a chance for any other survivors and if they'd want to be resurrected, if such a thing was possible and if they all could be together. But I worry that she's been making it harder on herself by doing so, when I know how desperately she wants to know more about them as people, and so the last time she cast it, I asked her afterwards why she wasn't letting herself ask the questions she really wanted to. I don't know how much of the reasons she gave me are truth and how much are excuses, but I think it comes down to that she's afraid that it'll hurt, to get a piece of them but nothing like what she truly wants, and I guess it hurts less for her to choose to have nothing than to try for it and let herself hope and be disappointed.

I'm not sure I feel that's a good reason for her to deprive herself of something she's wanted so much for so long, but I left it at that, and almost at the same time she promised that in two weeks' time, when she could cast the spell again and speak with Ezenki, she would ask more of the personal questions that she wanted to know. And those two weeks were up today, so I spent some time with her earlier working out what she wanted to ask, and how, to try to get her some o the answers she wanted but in ways that wouldn't hurt so much to hear when delivered in the spirits' somewhat flat delivery. And then we went to the cleric who's been letting her channel the spirits through them, every time since the first, and we brought Squirt and PA along both, to comfort and support her.

It was hard, of course it was. But I think it was good, too. I hope it was. I feel a little like I pushed her into it, when that wasn't my intent when I'd asked, not if she really didn't want to. Sometimes it can be okay to hurt, in the service of something good and wanted, and I just hope that this was that for her, and that I didn't push her to do something that only hurt her.

Afterwards we hugged a lot, and then I took her to a place I've found here that makes truly extravagant milkshakes, because she definitely deserved the most extravagant sort after all that. And then I guess she decided that it was my turn to cry, because she asked me if I wanted to keep adventuring or not. She'd asked me that when we got here, and my moms did, and all I could tell them then was that I needed a proper vacation before I could answer it. Because if I'd been forced to give an answer then, I think I would've said no, that I couldn't bear the thought of going out and facing more danger all over again. But I also knew that that might've been the hurt and upset and missing my moms, more than actually wanting to be done. And so I said to ask me later, and I guess Elyn decided it was later enough, because she asked, and she said all sorts of lovely things about how she knew this hadn't exactly been like what I'd left home looking for, and if I wanted to stop I could, and if I wanted to go back to the Feywild she'd take on the Queen of Air and Darkness herself with me to make that possible. And I cried a little and hugged her a lot, and reminded her that I hadn't only left the Feywild because of Squirt, that I'd been feeling restless and wanting to see more of the universe even before that, but he'd been -- not an excuse, not really, but a good reason to leave, a counterbalance to all the reasons I'd had to stay. And that really, I'd enjoyed a lot of what we'd done together, balhannoths and rocs aside, and that I thought I'd be bored, if I stopped. But I also said that we needed to take vacations -- proper vacations -- more, and not go so long between seeing our families. We've been doing this for a year and it's been a whirlwind, and I think we thought we were giving ourselves breaks, but we hadn't been, not really. We'd given ourselves a few weeks here and there and called them vacations, but they'd just been pauses while we caught our breath, before we jumped right on into our next thing. There hadn't been beaches and sunbathing and skydiving and hugging our parents. We need to do more of that, if we're going to keep doing this, or we'll all be burnt-out wrecks in another year.

That must've been answer enough for Elyn, because then she decided to switch to teasing me a little about you, which she likes to do. And then Cloudleaper showed up like she'd just been waiting for her cue, because sometimes I think the only thing Cloudleaper loves more than milkshakes is teasing me about you. And then-- well--

Look, okay, this is going to be weird and awkward, but I've been writing my way toward this for like an hour and I still haven't figured out how to make it not. But I made a promise, and I've never made any secret with you of the fact that I don't know what I'm doing, so maybe you'll be forgiving of the fact that it's weird and awkward, because that's the only way I've been about any of this all along. So-- would you like to meet my moms over a video call, sometime before we decide we've had our fill of vacationing? Elyn brought up the point that it'll be easier to orchestrate such a call now, while my moms and I are in the same place, than it will be once they've gone back to the Feywild and we have to coordinate between three different places and two different planes. And after Kirim, Elyn thinks it's important for the people we care about and who care about us to know each other, at least a little, so you guys can keep each other apprised of what's happening with us if we're not able to do so ourselves. And, those are all very good reasons, but I'm not asking just because of that. I'm asking because I'd like it, if you want to. I'd have introduced you to them if they'd come up to the station to meet us, or if you'd gone down with us to the planet. I'd have invited you down, if I hadn't already put you off course so much just by asking for a ride, and if you hadn't had so many things that needed your attention once we'd reached the station.

You don't have to if you don't want to, if it's weird or too much or you'd just rather not. I don't want to push, I just want to... offer, I suppose. And, well, I promised Cloudleaper I would ask, but I'm not doing it because I promised, either. I'd already mostly decided to ask before that, and the promising was really just to extract a counter-promise from her, that she'd go to dinner with my moms by herself, because she's been weird as shit with them ever since we got here. She acted like she was mortally offended that I had dinner with them with Elyn first, without her, but then when we did all go to dinner together, Cloudleaper hardly said two words to them all evening. So I asked her what was up with that and-- well, her answer started with 'you see, when two halflings love each other very much', which is so not a lecture I need, from her of all people. But Cloudleaper likes to deflect from emotions, and she seems to especially like to deflect by trying to rile me up by being patronizing. It usually works, too, but... I think, leaving aside all the deflection, the point she was trying to make was that she knew that my moms were going to be upset about me nearly dying on her behalf, and she was trying to be polite and show them respect. Because more or less ignoring them is respectful? I don't know, she said it was an elvish thing, but Elyn seemed dubious, so I think it's probably more a her-family-is-the-actual-worst thing. And she was all bluster and protest when I tried to remind her that her cultural norms aren't everyone's cultural norms and they'd like her better if she actually gave them a chance to know her, so I pulled the only trump card I had, and told her if she'd promise to have dinner with my moms and actually talk to them like a normal person (well, for her version of a normal person, I am not expecting miracles here), then I'd promise to write to you and ask about the video call with my moms. But like I said, I was probably already going to do that anyway, so really, I just manipulated her terribly. But she stopped protesting after that, and went off to find them, so I can't argue with the results, and now I'm here with a half-melted milkshake fulfilling my half of the bargain, so that if she bails halfway to dinner she won't have any leg to stand on, because I've done my part.

I hope everything's still well with you! Have you stopped anywhere new? What's the most interesting thing you've seen since you wrote me last?

Please don't say yes to the video unless you really, truly want to. It's okay if you don't, I promise it is.

All my best,

Maliah

#in character #in character: letters #episode 96

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years

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⚔️🏰🐲 - DMODT 31 update

Levi had the feeling Eren was keeping something from him. They hadn't been physically intimate since getting drunk together, but he'd expected that. Eren had said he wasn't ready, and Levi respected his omega's needs. No. There was something else that was wrong. The way Eren's smile didn't quite meet his eyes. The way Eren seemed to drift out during conversations, and the way he'd wake with a start and whimper in the middle of the night, only to roll away from him when Levi tried to ask what was wrong. He knew Eren wasn't feeling all that great about the clutch, but this felt as if something else had happened and he had no idea what. The alpha could only think that it had happened while staying at the military barracks, when he'd been forced to talk to Petra about her completely unacceptable behaviour. Petra had been in a position of power while at the port barracks, her words and her actions carried a lot of sway, so when her engagement to him dissolved and he appeared with a new lover, the soldiers had all looked to Eren in disgust... which Petra has encouraged. She'd encouraged them to ignore Eren completely, as he simply Levi's whore. Having heard all about the fight the alpha had had with Mikasa, Levi had thought Petra might pull her head in. Mikasa may have been mad at Eren, but she still loved him, and hadn't taken too kindly to Petra trying to manipulate her against the teen. Petra hadn't appreciated being talked to in such a manor by Mikasa, and it'd very nearly turned into a sword fight over Eren's honour. Levi had been mid conversation when a scratch had appeared on his cheek, Eren's magic had healed it the moment it appeared, and when he'd asked Eren, Eren had said he'd punched himself in the face as he'd pulled the blankets. Which was honestly a very Eren thing to do... yet... What if it hadn't been? The stomach ache that had felt like a knife to his gut, he blamed on possible lasting cramping from after the birth... but once again, what if it hadn't been? He didn't want to mention the cramping, in case he upset Eren over the clutch, or in case it was related to Eren's coming heat. Now that they were on their way back home, he really felt as if he should have. He was sure the moment had passed, and he'd been left behind. The matter weighed heavily on Levi's mind as he carried out his duties. Erwin had organised a series of visits for them, and even a trip to the theatre to see some play that hadn't made a lick of sense to him. Eren had played his part beautifully on Levi's arm. The teen smiled, waved and was polite to everyone who spoke to them. Levi very much the proud alpha as his omega did, yet none of it felt right. When Eren fell asleep on his shoulder at the theatre, the teen had flinched and jumped away when Levi shook him awake. Mumbling out an apology, Eren moved to sink into his side, with a clear stiffness in his form. Maybe this was all too much too fast? He'd grown used to the pageantry of royalty and aristocracy, but Eren hadn't. He'd spent his crucial years in a sanctuary, then spent most of his time at the castle studying, before leaving to live with dragons. He hadn't had manners drilled into him, or every aspect of high society interactions. Talking to Erwin, they agreed he needed some form of lessons. At least in dancing, and dining. If Eren could hold his head high for both those tasks, than everything else could be covered. It was also decided that Armin would return home with them, Mikasa and her squad to return after all their duties were transferred back to Petra and her squad, though he'd promoted squad member Eld to leader, in a petty move to punish Petra for her pettiness. Whatever was going on with Eren, he could only pray that the teen would either break down completely, or open up and dump everything on him, as at the moment, it hurt to watch him silently suffering. * After Eren's run in with Zeke, he'd forced himself back together and reassigned himself his original self gifted mission of finding Armin. Again he'd walked through the barracks, and again he'd found himself ignored... until he finally found a semi-familiar face. He could never forget horsefaced Jean, his beard had made him somewhat better looking, but in Eren's eyes, he was still a braying arse... so, he turned his attention to Sasha. Smiling the best he could, he jogged over to the pair who engaged in conversation with their friend Connie. He liked Connie. Connie managed to always ruin his own arguments over how smart he was, yet it wasn't in an obnoxious way. It was because he was always talking big and bolstering his own ego, that he pushed himself much harder than most people. Reaching them, Sasha gave a bow with a giggle "Your majesty" "I'm not the prince" Giving him a wide grin, Sasha nodded "I know, but you're like sleeping with him... which means you can get me more food, right?" Snorting, Eren shook his head "I doubt I have any kind of power there, but I can ask" Jean crossed his arms with a huff "I don't know what he sees in you, and those freaky scales" "I'd rather my scales than your horseface. Sasha, have you seen Armin?" Sasha hummed, raising her hand to her chin as she tapped her jawline with her pointer finger "I think he was in the kitchens with Mikasa. All the meals have to be triple checked... I don't know why they wouldn't let me do it..." "Probably because you'd eat the whole meal" "I joined the military to eat new and yummy foods... but it's always rations. When are we going to get meat!?" Sasha was practically drooling "Sasha, can you show me to the kitchen's, please? I have no idea how everyone finds their way around here" "We're not your soldiers. We didn't agree to give our lives for you" Eren raised an eyebrow at Jean, reminding himself he needed to be strong and couldn't show any possible kind of weakness "I'm not asking you to give your lives, I was asking Sasha if she could please help me find the kitchen" "Will there be food?" Was it so hard to do one small favour?" "I can ask" Sasha grabbed his arm, Eren forcing himself not to tear it out of her hold. Sasha wasn't about to beat the shit out of him just to make herself feel better "You're the best!" The cook refused to give Sasha extra food, as she was man handled out the kitchen. It was a rather comical sight as she clung to the steamed potato she'd stolen. Sitting at the kitchen table, Armin brightened at the sight of him "Eren, come sit with me" Ignoring the unhappy cooks, Eren did just that. Armin seemed so very happy "Did everything go well with Levi last night?" "You have no idea. After what happened with Mikasa, Levi walked both of us home. He stayed for tea" "The way you make it sound, it sounds like there was more than tea" Armin blushed "It wasn't like that. We talked about all sorts of things, until we both realised we talked all night" "Oh, Armin. I'm so happy for you" "I... I have some of his hair. I found it once he left, on the back of the chair that is. I didn't just take it. You can do a test right? With some of his hair?" "How do you know it's not yours? You're both blond" "I don't... but no one else in the house has blond hair. It... won't cause an explosion, will it?" The twinkle in Armin's eyes was filled with hope "No. But I do need a few things for it to work" Armin let out a kind of muffled squeak, before taking a deep breath "What do you need?" "A bowl of milk. Some blue ink, and a piece of chalk. As well as some of your hair and his" "That's all? No crystals or herbs?" "If I was using Eldia magic, it would be a whole lot more complicated. Historia taught me this, because she thought I could use it to make money if living at the castle didn't work out" "Really?" "I didn't know if I'd be allowed to come back, or even move back in. Now, do you think you get everything?" "I have chalk and inks in my bag... I just need a bowl of milk" "Do I want to know why you have chalk and ink?" "Sometimes you have to draw out things for dock workers to understand. Not all of them can read, then you need the ink because you have to fix the invoices" "Armin, I was joking. You need to calm down. We don't know the outcome. It could say anything" It was also a little bit late to be wondering if Erwin had any spells on him like the ones Eren placed on Levi. Though his were prayers, and Eren's healing came through the brooch his boyfriend wore, and their bond. But if there was something in place, it should have been activated when Obsydin infected him... "Don't say that. Eren, he's so smart. He has so many ideas of how to improve things..." "Ok. Ok. I know. I just don't want you to be hurt" "How accurate is this?" "Fairly. Most of the time. Things can affect it, like your friend dying of old age before you get me everything I need" The cook didn't want them messing up her table, but Eren promised to clean it with magic. Drawing a medium sized circle in front of them, he drew a small series of symbols inside of it "What's that?" "Purely decorative" Armin elbowed him "Then why are you drawing them?" "Because I'm teasing you. I only need the outside circle" Armin pouted at him, holding out his hand until Eren returned the chalk. Placing the bowl in the circle, Eren poured the milk in "Why milk?" "We all start our lives feeding on milk. Now, I need the hair" Handing over the few hairs he'd collected, Eren dropped them in the bowl. Armin a little enthused as he pulled out way too much. Plucking out a few strands, he dropped them in "Now the ink" "What does the ink do?" "It tells me what the answer is" Adding three drops, it hardly looked like anything other than a mess "Now what?" "Now you let me work" The spell worked by reading people, like Historia did when she healed someone. His magic didn't work that way, so he was kind of reading more the intentions of Armin and Erwin. He didn't totally get it, but when he'd tried with Historia and Ymir it'd worked. Gently letting his magic seep into the bowl, the milk and ink began to boil "Eren" "It's fine" Slowly the boiling settled, the ink still swirling. It was all very simple, and made for even the stupidest person to read. A heart if they were meant to be, and a split heart if they weren't, so when it just came back as two separate little circles, Eren was confused "Well?! What does it mean?" "I don't know. I've never seen this before" "Ereeeen" "I don't know... maybe it means you're not meant to be together just get? I mean, there's like two circles... and they're two of you..." "Nooo. You were supposed to tell me" "I'm sorry" Armin sighed dramatically "How will I ever know?" "I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm not as good as Historia. She'd be able to do this with her eyes closed" "This means I'll have to ask her" "You still talk to her?" "No... I want to though... I miss Draecia" Sliding the bowl over to Armin, Eren cleaned the table down as he'd said he would. The whole mess dropping it's self in the scrap bucket, as he'd done a proper job of cleaning off everything ever spilt or soaked into the wood "I miss it too, but I told you..." "Yes, yes. Rod lost his shit and we got kicked out" Eren hated having let Armin down. He'd been so hopeful that he'd be able to give his friend good news... He wasn't supposed to write to Historia... but... he couldn't let Armin be broken hearted like this. He wouldn't be responsible for another person he loved being hurt because of his actions. He'd rather take a hundred thousand beatings, than risk pissing Zeke or Rod off. Rod had a whole country of dragons at his disposal, while Zeke had the whole of Marley, and the Marley royal family who'd no doubt seek revenge if anything was to happen to the prince. This being nice and meek thing pissed him off. He was a dragon. He had powers that mages could only dream of... Powers that could erase Rod and Zeke from existence with just the click of his fingers, but it just wasn't worth it... Yet, seeing Armin's pain... he had to do something. Armin deserved love and to be happy. Writing to Historia, Eren erased the tiny royal insignia from the leather pouch of the pigeons leg that would carry his note to Historia. With a little bit of magic on her end, the tiny two inch, by half an inch note would grow to a full standard page. He'd explained everything in it. From the clutch, to being Levi's public lover and then to the compatibility spell. Fuck, he missed her, and Ymir. He missed playing in his dragon form, and chasing those stupid boulders over the hills. More and more people were learning he was a dragon, which meant those less than desirable were bound to find out too. It was even more important that he didn't make any grand shows of his lineage or with his magic, lest he find himself chopped up into tiny pieces... Draecia was now feeling more and more like a dream, and longed to return. Trying his hardest to forget he'd written to Historia, the next few days were spent entertaining Zeke until they left. There were a great number of things he got to see as he walked at Levi's side, but the worst experience was their trip to the theatre. He'd never been to one before, so hadn't expected it to be so boring. The story was weird, jumping all over the place, with random singing that sent him to sleep. He'd been so excited for it, only to fall asleep against Levi. His boyfriend scaring the crap out of him as he shook him awake. It'd been months since he'd had a nightmare about his mother's death, and now he'd had three in the space of 4 nights... none of which were appreciated, and all of which left his magic sparkling in his fingers as he tried to save his mother from her death. Not even having Levi by his side calmed him down, which was unusual. Historia's reply hadn't come until after Zeke and his party had left for Marley. The pigeon landing on the window ledge of the commander's room and cooing until Eren climbed out of bed to let it in. Returning to bed, Levi shuffled closer. His boyfriend nuzzling into his lap as he sleepy wrapped an arm around his waist, while Eren unfurled the small reply, before his heart dropped and his stomach flipped. He had no idea how to deal with the contents of the letter, and could only pray that no one in Zeke's party had intercepted it before he'd had the chance to read it. If Historia was to be believed, he needed to seek Erwin out immediately, for Armin was in danger from outside forces. Well, all of them always were, but that's what the magic reading had said, and Historia would know best. She'd preformed the reading hundreds of times for her and Ymir "Mmm, Eren? Everything ok?" He couldn't just up and leave with Levi cuddled into him "Yeah. It's ok. Go back to sleep" "' smell worried" "I'm fine. Get some more sleep" "'k" Stroking Levi's hair, Eren felt bad over hiding the contents of the letter from his boyfriend, but as it contained information about the curse, he couldn't just show him the slip of paper. Historia was worried that the clutch had come so many weeks before his heat, and felt it was most likely because the spell hadn't worked the way they wanted. He wouldn't know for sure until Levi's rut hit, but she did warn him to be prepared for the worst. He didn't know how he'd deal with everything if the spell didn't hold. He didn't know how to tell Levi he'd done something incredibly desperate and ruined everything for them. He could only pray that it was because he was mostly human that that was why his heat hadn't come. The teen didn't have a chance to speak to Erwin until after breakfast. Slipping the note into Erwin's hand while at breakfast had been an quiet feat. The alpha somewhat perplexed as to why Eren's hand was resting on his leg, until he finally looked down to see the paper. Taking the note, Erwin pocketed it. Eren's heart was racing the whole time, even after he saw that Erwin was making no move to open it. God. It was all so much more complicated than he'd ever imagined it could be. When breakfast ended, Erwin excused himself, only to return a few moments later to ask for Eren's "help". Following the man out the dining room, he was shown into a small office of sorts, his nerves starting to betray his new "there's absolutely nothing wrong with me attitude", especially when Erwin produced the note and waved it in his face "What is this?" "What does it look like?" "Don't test me Eren" "I'm not aiming to. I wasn't going to contact her, but with the clutch and the weird reading..." "You stole my hair?!" "I didn't steal anything. Armin found them on the chair. He's been in love with you, since before I returned. I was trying to be a good friend" "A good friend..." "Yes! God. Do you think I knew you two were related?! Let alone..." Erwin shoved his hand over his mouth "This can't be true. I would know if I had a brother" Raising his right hand, Eren pulled Erwin's hand off his mouth "But would you? Really? Because as far as I remember, it was common practice to send children away to be raised as commoners, where they were safe" Erwin glared at him coldly "The royal advisors never mentioned anything" "It's not my fault. I didn't know either" "Does anyone know about this?!" "What? No. I told Historia I did a test between two friends using their hair and got that result. She doesn't know it was you" "Right..." "I'm serious here. He is my best friend. We grew up together. He's more like a brother than a friend... and he's in love with you" "I don't give a fuck. Did you tell Levi?" "What?" "Don't play stupid with me. Did you tell him?!" "No! Why would I? I didn't know what to do, and I could hardly show him that letter. He has more than enough to worry about" "About your failed spell. I knew..." "You knew what? That I wasn't trust worthy. That's what you're thinking, isn't it? I know better than to run around spreading state secrets, especially with the way things are. So no. You're the only one who's read that, other than me. Armin is your little brother. I don't know if it was by magic, or whatever, but I can't change that" "You're not to tell him. I command you not to tell anyone about the contents of this letter" Eren growled "Stop with the fucking commands! Whenever you're scared, that's what you default to and I'm sick of it" "Know your place..." "My place?! Ha! You and Levi both decided my place needed to be made fucking public, when I was more than happy in the shadows. I've been following your charade and do you know how much pain you've caused Levi!? His whole life is dictated as playing the prince you're too much of a coward to be" "Shut your mouth" "No. I'm doing everything I can for Levi, and all I ask is that you keep Armin close and safe" "What you're doing is hardly good enough" Slapping Erwin, Eren's eyes widened at his own actions. The alpha looked murderous "I... I'm sorry" Pushing past Erwin, Eren ran. He couldn't believe he'd lost his temper, but at the same time, this was Armin's life. His best friend... he'd never thought his reading would turn out like this. He never would have done anything if he'd suspected... how could he have suspected? It wasn't like every blond person in existence was related, and Armin's parents were supposed to have been adventurers who's hot air balloon had crashed. That was why he'd grown up with his grandfather. Had Grandpa Arlert know? And had Armin's mother really been his mother? With magic, a whole new person could be brought forth in the womb of another. Maybe the woman herself hadn't known? But no. Semen and blood were needed... as were highly trained mages. He couldn't fucking breathe. Blind to where he was running, he crashed right into Levi "Eren!" Starting to cough, he half collapsed into his alpha's arms "Eren, what's wrong? Is it your lungs?" Nodding, he felt miserable for lying. Especially when Levi lifted him "You're ok. We'll get you down to the kitchen and get the kettle steaming" Nodding, his lungs continued to protest oxygen. Levi kept him on his lap as Eren breathed in the kettle steam. When the towel was removed, he collapsed back against the man "Eren?" "Better. I panicked, and couldn't breathe" That bit was true "I noticed. Do you know what set it off?" "Yeah, but it's ok. I'm sorry for making a scene" "No. Your lungs aren't your fault... as long as your ok now" Why did Levi have to be so kind? "I'm ok... just a little sleepy" "We'll be leaving soon, do you want to head back home a little earlier?" Eren shook his head, coughing lightly as he curled further into Levi. He had to be ok. He'd had a shock, but he'd covered it with a few carefully constructed words "No. Don't cut your visit short because of me" "We've fulfilled our duties, and honestly, I miss the cleanliness of the castle" "Trust you to miss that. I bet what you really miss is your tea" "You can't be too ill if you can tease me like that" "I'm just sleepy" "I noticed you've been having nightmares" Of course he had... "It's fine. They're old dreams of my mother. I don't know why I've dreamt so much of her of late" "Do you know where she's buried?" "Probably in one of the pit graves of Shinganshima..." It hurt to think of how many people were just piled into them to prevent disease spreading. Each and every one of them deserved a proper funeral, but it wasn't possible. In some cases, who families had been wiped out, so even if there had been a funeral, there was no one left to identify them or to grieve for them "I'm sorry" "It is what it is. I think I just need to take a nap" "I'll come with you. I know these small episodes take a lot out of you" "I'll be fine on my own. Make sure everything here is truly fine before we leave. It'll mean less paper work" Levi nuzzled into his hair, sighing softly as he did "Trust you to be thinking of the kingdom. At least let me take you back to our room" "I'll be fine" "This is for my sake. I can't concentrate if I don't know for sure" Why couldn't he have crashed into someone else?! Not Levi... almost anyone but Levi would have been better than this "Fine, but you need to go to work" "I will" After that, they'd left earlier than scheduled. Erwin was avoiding him, and refused to meet his eye, while Armin was confused as to why he was coming home in the royal carriage with the three of them. On the way back to the castle, Eren practiced locking down his emotions. He went about all his new duties as gracefully as he could, though more than once his mask nearly slipped. He was an unknown element in the lives of those in Eldia. The Prince they so looked up to, was now walking around and sleeping with a scaly freak. Despite how widely he smiled, or how loudly he laughed, most of the population really wasn't sure about him. By the time they reached the castle, he'd hit his limit. Excusing himself and Armin, he dragged his best friend off to his tower, only to find it ransacked. Most likely by a master or two who were still loyal to Marley. Armin insisted they needed to tell the prince out of concern for Eren's safety, yet how could he go running to Levi over something so minor? He'd take one look at the destruction and know straight away that the perpetrator was looking for his clutch. Eren was so fucking tired of conflict. He just wanted Eldia safe. Lying and promising to tell the prince later, he and Armin then spent most of the day cleaning through the tower. The worst of the damage was in his bedroom, though he was lucky they hadn't stolen the gifts Levi had gifted him in Draecia. Well, gifted him after they'd returned from Draecia. Somehow they'd survived everything, and now we're hiding in a small alcove behind the picture frame that hung above his fireplace. Everything Levi gave him was his most precious of possessions, including his tower. If his boyfriend thought he was leaving his safe space, he had another thing coming. Once the tower was clean, Eren cooked a small dinner for himself and Armin, before the pair of them showered and headed up to bed. He didn't even think to lock the door, which lead to a very awkward wake up when Levi found him in bed with Armin. He didn't know who was louder, Levi as he demanded to know what was going on, or, Armin when promptly screamed at the sight of Levi at the end of the bed. Dobbed in by his best friend, Armin had explained how they'd spent the day cleaning the tower after finding it trashed, then both passed out from exhaustion. Never would Eren have guessed Levi would calmly accept Armin's words, then decide he was joining them. That was how Eren found himself sandwiched between Levi and Armin. Armin kind enough to sleep on his back so Eren could cuddle into his, they never would have fitted otherwise. Despite the awkwardness and way Armin was trying not to laugh out of nerves, Eren fell asleep between the pair.

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antihero-writings · 4 years

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His Dog, Warming Their Hearts--Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler (Undertaker) fic for Christmas 2019 (full fic!)

Fic Title: His Dog, Warming Their Hearts

Synopsis: Not every stray finds a home at Christmas, but puppy Sebastian just might.

Fic:

Whimpering. High-pitched, timid, and pitiful.

Despite the presiding theme of the shop, the noise was made by something alive.

A puppy.

“Now what would a thing like you doing here in my parlor?” Undertaker asked, crouching down beside it, offering a long-nailed finger for it to sniff.

The puppy only shivered, neither caring, nor understanding his sense of humor. Though few could tell when he was joking, and most found their faces in a constant awkward grimace around him.

He stood back up and strode over the door, holding it open. A gust of wind tossed his hair. The animal wouldn’t budge.

“Well, if you’d rather have a bit of fun,” his grin became more maniacal, and he held his nails in front of his face, “that can be arranged.”

The puppy seemed to get the idea, and gave a yelp, pattering over to hide on the other side of the coffin.

“That’s what I thought.” He inclined his head to the door.

Still, it wouldn’t oblige.

Undertaker sighed, putting his hand on his forehead. “You are a stubborn fellow aren’t you?”

There was the sound of little claws on wood; the puppy had followed him, and was peering from behind the curtain that divided the sections of the shop.

Undertaker lifted his head “Persistent, aren’t you?”

“Are you forgetting that there are many things I could do that might just make you rethink your decision to stay?”

He held a bunch of tools from the table between his fingers like a magician, giving that creepy grin as the blades glinted in the candlelight.

The big, fearful brown eyes reflected the metal.

Undertaker rolled his eyes, setting them back down. He didn’t have any intention of hurting the thing, still it’s presence was a bit of a nuisance, and scaring it could prove for a good laugh.

“Can’t have you interrupting my work, now,” he wagged his finger as the thing stumbled over to the makeshift bed, before mocking, “Would you like any refreshments, my lord?”

It curled up in the coat, it’s tail beginning to wag.

“Don’t be forming any attachments to me, now. It’s off to the pound soon as I get a decent break.”

The puppy lowered its head and stopped wagging its tail.

After working for a while he turned to see it was fast asleep.

He smirked. “Poor thing doesn’t even know what’s good for it.”

He chuckled low, grabbing his hat off a nearby coffin, and held the door open wide, letting a flurry in, gesturing for it to leave.

Those eyes looked up at him unknowingly. The ex-reaper clicked his teeth and flung open the door, gliding out through it.

The patter of little paws sounded against the floorboards, it squeezed its little body through the gap as the door closed, landing on its bum in the snow, shaking the flakes off its floppy ears.

“I don’t suppose you plan on following me all day?”

The puppy tilted his head to the side, wagging its tail a little.

Snow crunched beneath his boots, the puppy running circles and zigzags around him as he walked, leaving little pawprints in the snow around his own steps.

He was examining a snowman they made when he noticed a familiar face across the street.

It would have been easy to just walk up to him, to say ‘hello, good afternoon, sir’ but if he had done that he wouldn’t have been Undertaker.

Most people would have screamed, grabbed the nearest available weapon and proceeded to whack him over the head with it, but this man was not normal himself. Instead his face broke into a smile.

“Undertaker,” he tipped his hat to him, “It’s good to see you.”

“Vincent Phantomhive.” He twirled his hat off his head, bowing too low, “Now what’s a rich fellow like you doing coming down from his castle?”

“You willing to pay for my silence?” Undertaker sidled up beside his friend.