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script-nef · 3 years

Text

An actual break | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

2.6k words; Beach date [4/6]

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You haven’t been to the beach in months. So a car trip for hours, where you can blank out and peer out of the window to enjoy the wonderful and ever-changing scenery is amazing. Dipping your feet in the water or eating from food vendors or enjoying the warm summer sun on your skin. Perhaps getting a tan if the weather is perfect. This would all be perfectly enjoyable and possible.

If it wasn’t for work.

“[Surname]-san, why are you coming with us? You said you can’t fight.” Itadori calls from the backseat, nestled not-so-comfortably between Fushiguro and Kugisaki.

Wouldn’t it be better if Kugisaki is in the middle since she’s the smallest and the skinniest? The thought drifts into your head but you soon understand why. As soon as the words leave his mouth it’s met with a firm and resounding slap on the arm. Itadori’s yelp of pain is silenced under her hiss of “God, you’re so tactless! Now move over, it’s getting cramped with all of the bags.” Ah, she didn’t want to sit in the middle. And what bags? I didn’t bring any.

They keep their banter up and a quick glance to both Gojou and Fushiguro indicates that they have no intention of stopping it. Gojou is actually humming through the bickering. Why do I have to be the adult? He’s like, 5 years older than me. That’s literally what he said as the reason to drive instead of you.

“It’s fine, Kugisaki-san. I’m coming along because there’s been a lot of cursed spirit activity around here and I need to see if something abnormal is happening. I’m not going to get in the way of the fight so you don’t need to worry.” You send Itadori a smile through the back mirror which he responds with a quick nod, then a confused look.

“Isn’t that Gojou-sensei’s responsibilities?” The mentioned adult laughs and smoothly makes a right turn. You want to slap him.

“Normally, yes, but he insists on being insufferable.” You turn to face them, leaning onto the seat with a scowl. “The report he made was nearly illegible and last time something like this happened, and I had to sit down with him for 3 hours to complete it. Even then, he was going off topic half the time and trying to distract me. Itadori-kun, Kugisaki-san, listen to me. If he doesn’t do his work, you have to practically force him.”

“Doesn’t work.” Fushiguro comments while looking out the window. Gojou has the audacity to laugh again.

“We had a great time! You were laughing your head off by the time we were done.” A light tug on your shirt makes you sit back properly. The scowl stays in place.

“I missed dinner! And I missed the last episode of Haikyuu thanks to that!”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take it up by buying you dinner, okay?” He must be kidding if that makes up for missing your favourite anime. Kuroo came and went thanks to him. The car comes to an abrupt stop just as you’re about to complain again. “We have arrived!”

Salt wafts in the air as the sea twinkles underneath the afternoon sun. It’s hot today, and humid enough to make your clothes stick to your skin, which is gross. Sunny and warm means a swim will be ideal, but you have to take care of the whole recurring curses thing first. Previous reports have said that they were all mid-level, so hopefully Gojou’s students won’t have that much of a problem taking care of them. That also means they, including you as well, might have the opportunity to relax for the rest of the day.

The actual spot is somewhere in the nearby forest, filled thick with trees and so large that even if someone went missing it would take ages to search. An ideal hunting place since a lot of people visit there. Numbers dropped quite a bit after the fifth person “went missing”.

The first task is to cover the place with a curtain. Since the place is so large and not encompassing the entire place was deemed too risky, large amounts of cursed energy is required. Hence Gojou’s efforts right now.

“[Name]-san.” Kugisaki calls you. “Are you coming in with us?” Her voice is tentative, like she doesn’t want to offend you. It’s kind of funny because she shows more respect for you than her actual teacher for some reason. Gojou complained about it before. She doesn’t know the extent, or more accurately the lack of, your powers and has a right to be worried. All she knows is that you can’t fight.

“Ah, I am coming in, but I’ll stay far away from the fight. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“And I’ll be right by her side!” Gojou snaps into thin air, linking his arm with yours. “Your personal bodyguard! But I’m sure you guys can handle this one.” Still humming a tune, he sends them along their way with a reassuring smile. You smile at Kugisaki and wish her good luck. Shooting Gojou a suspicious glare, she runs ahead to the two boys and starts whispering. They look back at the two of you and get into what seems to be an argument. A bad thing to do right before a possibly life-threatening mission.

You watch the group disappear deeper into the woods, fear gripping at your heart. This is actually the first time in the field after years of being tucked away in an office. Ken-chan specifically requested it due to your unique cursed energy situation. Apparently that was the first time he asked for a favour to the principle and he never asked for anything again. They can handle themselves, you’re sure, but Itadori already had a close call.

“Worried?” Gojou, on the other hand, sounds like he has no concerns in the world. Maybe that’s a testament to how much he trusts his students. It doesn’t alleviate your agitation. “It’s fine, we can just take a break here and if trouble comes, they can take care of it themselves.” You stare at him incredulously. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’ll step in if something goes wrong. You’re all in safe hands.”

There is no one better than him in terms of fighting with cursed energy. How on earth someone like this gets imbued with endless power, you’ll never know. Sighing, you take a seat on a fallen log. The moss on them tickles your fingers. It feels nice, something to distract you from your brain being its usual bastard and thinking the worst case scenario. Gojou plops himself down right next to you.

“We can go see them if you’re that worried, mother hen.” Nudging his leg shuts him up. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on reaching out for their cursed energy. Eight signals flicker from where they went, three blazing stronger than the others. One of them is nearly blinding. Sukuna is on a completely different level. If there’s that much of a difference in energy, they’ll finish soon and come back to have fun for the rest of the day. God knows they need it.

Your eyes flit open and come face to face with Gojou’s blindfold. It causes you to fall backwards and you brace for impact with a little yelp. But Gojou’s arm surrounds your abdomen, lifting you into the air and onto your feet. Heartbeats thud in your ears thanks to the sudden adrenaline boost.

“Did I scare you?” His laugh is cheeky. “I’m bored… Wanna play 20 questions?” As usual, his train of thought is impossible to even attempt to follow. A window of hundreds of tabs wrestling to be the first all the time is probably what the inside of his mind looks like.

“Sure, why not.”

Fushiguro, Itadori and Kugisaki all perk up when they receive the news of a day off to enjoy the beach. Since it’s closed off to the civilians, it’ll be like a private party. Something to keep their mind off of another mission that’s bound to come soon.

While they run off to the beach, you go to talk to the park rangers for the paperwork. Gojou asks if you want company but someone needs to supervise the children. The process takes barely 10 minutes anyway.

When you come back to the beach, the trio is screaming in the sea while trying to fight each other. Even Fushiguro is laughing. Childlike innocence is beautiful and long overdue. Two huge parasols and towels are laid out nearby where they’re playing. Gojou is out of his usual attire and in a swimming trunk. His blindfold is still on. Is this what was in the bags?

Now that you look more closely at the students, they’re all in swimwear as well. Looks like you’re the only one that didn’t get a memo.

“Heya! Done?”

“No thanks to you, Mr The-Whole-Reason-I’m-Here-In-The-First-Place.” He laughs at the nickname.

“You should change.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Nobody told me and I was just thinking of dipping my feet.”

“Nobara brought you one. It’s in the bag labelled ‘If you look inside I’m going to kill you.’” Laughter comes out at the absurdity.

“Why did Kugisaki—”

“Because she wants you to relax. Now come on! Let’s have fun!” he pushes you excitedly towards the car. It’s really weird how someone your senior has more energy than you and his three students combined. Sighing, you trek back and find the bag. It really is labelled that, in caps. Kugisaki is a good kid.

There’s a bathroom nearby for you to change in. The wind is still pretty strong when you walk out but you’re saved thanks to the school jacket. There’s also a pair of flip-flops. Ken-chan must have helped since they all fit perfectly.

Itadori is being half-drowned when you come back. Fushiguro and Kugisaki are merciless when it comes to fighting. Gojou smiles as you walk into his line of sight. Scooting over to let you into the shade, he lies back onto the towel and stretches his legs out into the sun with a slight groan. You stay sitting up, watching the three children absentmindedly.

Sunlight tickles your feet. The sea breeze stops it from being too hot but it’s slowly getting stuffier under the jacket. Quickly discarding it, Gojou catches your eyes while you fold it up.

It’s impossible to tell if he’s awake or sleeping thanks to his signature blindfold, but this is the most relaxed you’ve seen him in years; hands folded behind his head and muscles completely loose. Small scars dot his body, probably gained from fights which he deemed insignificant enough to bother Shouko with or heal himself. In a way, it’s a reminder for all the battles he’s survived. Pretty easily too, you’re guessing. There’s a deep one on his stomach and your hand moves towards it for some reason.

Long fingers intercept your hand just before it touches the scratched skin, entwining themselves to you. One end of Gojou’s lips quirks up.

“I’m going to be embarrassed if you keep looking at my body, you know.” You immediately attempt to rip your hand back but he’s got you locked tight. He’s not even using Infinity. Heat threatens to explode your face because he’s been awake all this time and you’re going to die from shame. “If you wanted to touch me then you could have just asked.” Your fingers graze against the skin on his stomach for a split second but he loosens his grip and you will be damned if you don’t take that chance.

Gojou cackles, enjoying your flustered state, and he’s halfway to suffocation because he’s laughing too much. His instincts still allow him to move out of the way for your punch. Doesn’t stop him from laughing though. Even his students, who were screaming and playing like they didn’t have a care in the world, are looking at the two of you. God, where’s a hole for me to die in right now?

Eventually, his laughter dies off. He’s still chuckling though. His teeth glint in the light as he gives you a wide smile. A sense of foreboding washes over you.

“Up we go!”

“What?” Two arms hook under your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly into the air. Your body bounces in his arms every time he takes a step closer to the sea.

“Wait Gojou, wait wait wait wait!”

“Gojou-sensei wai—”

The water is freezing.

“Gojou Satoru, I’m going to kill you!”

“That’s admirable! I’m sure you can do it!” Fushiguro snickers as you swipe an arm at Gojou, who moves away effortlessly again. Hair is plastered to your face and this rage is not going to subside unless you rip the blindfold off his smirking face and dunk his head into the water. But he keeps dodging you, just barely, as if to taunt you further.

Exhaustion sets in quickly since moving around in water is a lot harder and anger eats away at your stamina. Just as you’re about to give up, Gojou’s face is slapped with a wave of water. Everyone looks to Kugisaki. She has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Pfft.” Fushiguro’s laughter breaks the silence. Itadori snickers at Gojou’s drooping hair. Soon everyone’s laughing. Then Gojou whips water that hits all three of them straight in the chest with a resounding smack. They immediately retaliate with a wave that you get caught up in.

It somehow turns into a students vs adults fight. Delighted laughter echoes in the air as everyone yells and shrieks when assaulted with icy water. There’s an unspoken rule to not use cursed energy, which is why your side is being pushed back. There’s no beating three excited kids when they’re on a holiday high.

Backtracking a bit to get away from the constant surges of water, you don’t realise you’re going deeper and deeper into the sea. A rock shifts underneath your feet and you’re plunged into the cold grips of the sea, not even given enough time to call for help. Panic overtakes your senses as you squeeze your eyes shut, hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

“[Name]!” Warmth engulfs you as Gojou lifts you out of the murky depth, worry and dread weaved into his voice. You blink rapidly as he gently brushes the hair off your face, and you see his eyes without the blindfolds for the first time. “Look at me, are you alright?”

They’re… indescribably beautiful. It’s the purest and translucent blue you’ve seen in your life, able to beat the colour of the ocean or the sky on its clearest days. It could compete with even the most exquisite sapphire locked up in a vault underground. And they’re clouded with concern and fear because of you.

“[Surname]-san!” Bringing yourself up by hugging Gojou’s neck, you see the trio wading through the water to you, dread clear on their faces. Itadori reaches you and rapidly asks if you’re fine and that he can’t possibly describe how sorry he is. It looks like he’ll dig his head into the ocean floor if you ask him to do it. Like he’s waiting for you to reprimand him.

But all that comes out is laughter, bright and childlike. They all look at you like you’re crazy. You have no idea why you’re laughing either. Maybe you’ve finally gone insane.

But being in Gojou’s arms, seeing his and Itadori’s face relax, brings you so much happiness. Tightening your arms around Gojou’s neck, you rest your head on top of his as he calms them down.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from nearly drowning, maybe it’s something else, but your heart thumps rapidly into your ribcage, probably loud enough for him to feel.

Next chapter →

#gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou imagine #gojou satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojou #gojou satoru #fluff #series #female reader

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writeblrfantasy · 3 years

Text

here it is!

my pride and joy, the piece that has completely hijacked my brain and my life for the past 24 hours. this is the prologue, some might say, to TDOSA, featuring the vibes of an endless, sunny summer, the sense of floating through time and space, and a lot of lesbian yearning and projection, i present: the summer of seret ashling.

cw implied sex, blood

word count around 6300

one time tags of interest @ashen-crest @ettawritesnstudies

tdosa taglist (lmk to be added/removed) magic-is-something-we-create @hysteriwah @imjustalonesomewriteblr @a-forgotten-dusk @bronwennjames @metanoiamorii

Lysandra Fleming’s summer begins like this: a lonely night in Briar Bar, sipping a warm mug of cherry syrup. Not because she is cold—the heat in Vashiri Valley does not begin with summer, nor does it end there. Cherry syrup is vile and bitter and sweet at the same time, made worse warm, but the smooth way it goes down reminds her of childhood, the strange days when she actually liked this stuff.

Not home. She has not had a home since she was a child, when the supposed charm of the palace still worked on her. What were once silky ribbons in her hair became the invisible chains and rules of her parents, tying her down.

Lysandra, you can’t do this, it will reflect badly on us, or Lysandra, you can’t speak to that person, can’t smile at them, can’t see them, don’t you know what they did ten years ago? Don’t you know who their parents are? Vashiri Valley is struggling for power enough without you mucking it up.

Lysandra stopped smiling altogether.

Now, she comes to Briar Bar to be left alone with her cherry syrup, to melt into the crowd, to be normal, for once. Instead, others smile at her the way her parents always encouraged she smile, fake, polite enough, with an ulterior gleam in their eye. So many eyes watch her in want, but she does not feel seen at all by any of them.

The room’s quiet conversation dims and dissolves into whispers, prompting Lysandra to glance over at the reason. The reason is facing away from Lysandra, wearing a tall black hat and a black suit that nearly blends into the darkness of the walls, if not for the white shirt the woman is wearing underneath.

Lysandra didn’t see her come in, and all eyes turn to the tall, dark stranger, wondering the same thing. Her companions across the room point her in Lysandra’s direction, who braces for another meaningless smile, another delighted to meet you, Highness.

The woman turns, and Lysandra sees brown skin, black hair falling in long, loose curls, a subtle, close mouthed smile that draws her attention instantly. Brown eyes meet Lysandra’s green.

“Seret Ashling, my princess.” Seret Ashling leans down, never breaking eye contact, and kisses the top of Lysandra’s hand, holding her fingers delicately, but not like she’s glass. She treats Lysandra like she knows, instantly, her boundaries, how far she can safely push, what Lysandra can take—which is a lot more than most people guess.

Already, Lysandra likes her.

Lysandra is not her princess. She knows the name of every person in this valley, and she knows she’s never even seen Seret before. Even the name is foreign to her. Seh-reht.

That makes it all the better.

She moves her stool a little farther from the empty one beside her, raising an eyebrow in an invitation Seret accepts, removing her hat and tucking it under her arm to smoothly mount the stool. Seret sits with a straight back but ankles curled around the legs of the stool, adding enough humanity to her presence to make Lysandra smile.

She does not prop her elbow on the table, she does not order anything, but she does stare at Lysandra like she’s the most interesting person in the room. Lysandra can tell, somehow, that this gaze is genuine, not hastily crafted and practiced to impress her.

She offers to buy Lysandra another mug of cherry syrup, and Lysandra lets her.

***

Everywhere Lysandra goes, Seret seems to find her. She’s the talk of the valley, enrapturing them with her tall, dark, handsome aura, her small smile, the way the sun shines off her hair.

Finally Seret takes the leap and asks her out to places in Vashiri City Lysandra has been a thousand times, but somehow Seret’s presence paints color to her world again instead of the dull greens and golds the valley has become.

Their connection is instant, from Briar Bar to the lane of potion shops to the muffled awe in Seret’s face when she sees the Academy. At some point, Seret takes Lysandra’s hand, and they stroll through the town like they are not a princess and the new obsession of Vashiri Valley.

Everyone has been asking Seret about herself, where she’s from, what family she has, but she slips out of answering like a snake from a trap. Her smile is quite persuasive. Lysandra doesn’t even try to pry the answer out of her, though she might be the one person to succeed. Seret still looks at her every time like she’s the sun and the moon and the stars.

Lysandra’s heart thrums with nerves every hour before their dates, afraid of messing things up and driving Seret away, but the moment Seret enters the room, her heart calms. Seret gives her a warm hug that envelopes her whole soul, tells her she missed her dearly, and Lysandra wonders why she was ever worried. Seret seems impossible to offend.

“I am going to buy you a gift,” Seret announces on one of their dates in town, in a tone which makes it clear this is non-negotiable. Lysandra only nods. Seret pauses between two shops, one being the most popular jewelry store in the city with a line out the door, the one across the street being an adorable but little known competitor.

Lysandra waits for Seret to get in line for the popular jewelry store, but instead the woman lingers in front of the door of the other shop before opening it. “Don’t peek,” she says with a little smile, shutting the door and triggering the little bell. Lysandra stands there gawking like a fool until Seret emerges ten minutes later holding a little square box.

When Lysandra opens it with trembling hands, she finds a little heart shaped necklace, gold with a silver center on a golden chain. The gold probably isn’t real, probably just paint, but the pink paper wrapping the necklace and the little thank you card inside the box make her smile when the shop across the street wouldn’t.

The plain red and blue shelves in the windows of the other shop, where her family’s jeweler gets his jewels, have nothing on the soft pinks, greens, and browns of the cheap shop owned by twins. They keep flowers in their windows, pink carnations, and prices written in loopy court script.

“Do you like it?” Seret asks nervously, and Lysandra realizes she hasn’t said a word.

“I love it. Thank you.” She offers it up to Seret to clasp around her neck. Seret’s warm fingertips brush the back of her neck, and shivers run down Lysandra’s spine. This is special, her heart keeps telling her, like she doesn’t already know. This is different.

“How did you know?” Lysandra asks.

“Know what?”

“That I’d like this better than the shop across the street.”

“You’re a princess, you’re used to expensive jewelry, and you’ve publicly and loudly denounced royal life. Also, I’d rather give my money to them, seems like they actually need it. Don’t you agree?”

Lysandra has to take a deep breath to keep from blurting out something stupid. “Yes. I agree.”

Their first kiss a day later is a ray of light and a shadow of darkness, colliding and exploding in a glorious show of white and black, settling as ashes and debris into serene, calm gray. They are not the sun and moon. Lysandra is too sharp to be the sun, Seret too dim to be the moon.

It is the death of something. The birth. Lysandra can’t define what.

***

When Lysandra asks, Seret says she came to Vashiri Valley to visit and experience its delights, after which she meets Lysandra’s eyes and kisses her hands.

Lysandra hangs around the city apartment Seret rents. It’s close to Wynn’s cabin where she sleeps. She hasn’t slept in the palace in months. The layers of security and scrutiny she has to pass to enter are not worth the temporary comfort of a soft bed and her favorite meals.

She’s sleeping beside Seret before long, unable to bear being apart from her for that long, wondering how she behaves during such a precious time. Seret’s arms are even warmer around her under cool sheets, and in the morning, Seret brings her coffee before disappearing behind a white door.

She reappears in a cloud of steam, smelling like sweet flowers and honeysuckle. Lysandra gets to kiss her good morning and wonder how she got so lucky.

They’re invited to plays, the nights at the bars for amateur bards, the travelling witches who perform at the amphitheater. Lysandra has been to every event in this valley at least once, usually at the request of her family, but Seret loves going. Like the city and the shops and the Academy, experiencing Seret’s joy secondhand is intoxicating.

Everywhere they go, every table they sit at, whether it’s the theater or the bar or a café for a simple breakfast, people are fawning over Seret. The entire valley is enamored with Lysandra’s new lover.

Seret seems to find it amusing, the way they pat her arm and show a comical amount of interest in everything she has to say, just waiting for an opportunity to ask questions that they must know will go unanswered.

Lysandra sits quietly, burning from the way Seret entertains them, smiles at them in her private way. She wants Seret all to herself. She’s used to sharing things with the public, she’s had to share herself her whole life, but Seret is different. Lysandra doesn’t care if it’s selfish, Seret is hers.

When everyone finally seems like they’ve gotten their fill of Vashiri’s new inhabitant, Lysandra takes her to the edge of the forest and the dead tall grass fields beside it. She gets to watch the exact moment Seret falls in love.

Seret has never grinned, never raised her voice louder than a murmur, but her hitch of breath and the way she reaches for Lysandra’s hand is all she needs. Pride blooms in Lysandra’s chest at the realization she’s learned Seret’s little tells like that.

“It’s just a field,” she laughs. She’s laughing more, now, thanks to Seret. Stoic, cynical, unpleasant Princess Lysandra, laughing. This is why she hasn’t let Arlin near Seret yet, she’d never hear the end of it.

“No, it’s not,” Seret breathes, radiating darkness and mystery in a way that is curious, enticing, instead of harmful. Lysandra just wants to follow her into the shadows where no others can see them, hurt them, touch them. “Can’t you see?”

Lysandra strains her neck, but it’s not the fact that Seret is taller than her that’s the problem. “No.”

Seret pulls her along and begins running instead of answering. Lysandra yelps in surprise and stumbles along, staring enviously at Seret’s long legs—long legs, long arms, long face, long fingers, everything about Seret is long. She sweeps Lysandra up in her arms and spins her around, feet in the air, Seret’s strong arms keeping her up.

Seret is grinning for the first time, showing perfect white teeth, her joy the only reason Lysandra doesn’t scream in shock. She trusts Seret utterly, she realizes in a paralyzing moment of clarity, the sun warming her back, the wind blowing through her hair. Seret has never given her a reason not to.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lysandra asks, though she can’t keep the joy out of her own voice. Seret is infectious. Anything she feels reflects on Lysandra.

“We had fields exactly like this in the city where I grew up. I can’t believe I haven’t seen these yet.” She finally sets Lysandra down and immediately kisses her, as has become a habit the last week. Lysandra gives in, gives over entirely.

She has twisted and forced a key into the lock of her heart, but now, she hands the broken key to Seret and wishes her lucky trying to fit it in the rusty, damaged old lock. Lysandra knows she’ll unlock it fast, her eyebrows pinched and frowning in concentration, long fingers working quickly.

She doesn’t tell her that, of course.

Even then, Lysandra knew.

***

They find a cabin at the edge of the fields and the forest which they quickly move into, abandoning Arlin and the boys and Lysandra's family and Vashiri Valley for themselves. Lysandra has no remorse.

Seret shows her how to live in darkness, in quiet, in peace. They prepare coffee in the mornings before the sun floods the fields with light, arms brushing and using only using their sleepy voices when they need to, not wanting to disturb the holy peace of the morning.

They bathe in the evenings indoors where the fading sun doesn’t reach, sitting close in a tub of river water that Lysandra heats.

They spend all day laying on their backs in the fields, one of them lying on the other while someone’s hair is stroked and someone speaks over the wind.

When the afternoon heat turns the sunlight from pleasantly warm to scorching, they move to the shade of the big oak tree near their cabin to eat.

The shadows are their friends in this haven, where no one and nothing else exists but them. Seret trusts them like they trust each other, content to close her eyes and lay her head back against the trunk when she’s done eating.

Lysandra loves the warmth of the sun, but she hates the harsh white spotlight of her family, the prickly rules tying her down, the sense that she can’t ever escape their restraining eyes. She can hide in the darkness from Seret. They’ll never catch her.

Lysandra has never been so invincible, light enough to be picked up on a cloud every time the wind blows. Seret is the only magical thing she’s met that doesn’t have a drop of magic within her.

Seret is ineffable. Unknowable. Larger than life. Lysandra can never hope to understand her fully, but she can try, she can watch and observe, attempt to learn the inner workings of Seret’s mind.

“Seret?” Lysandra asks one afternoon just like every other, where the peace and warmth of their retreat cannot be broken. “Where are you from?”

It is the first time she has asked. She holds her breath, waiting for Seret’s answer, which takes a long time to come. Seret chews on her lip, her expression as guarded as always, until she finally smiles. “Wherever you want me to be from. North, south, east, west, I’ve visited them all. Pick one and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lysandra’s chest opens to swallow an ache of emptiness. “Maybe later.” It’s not what she wanted, and they both know it. Lysandra inches mere breaths away from Seret’s side, but it won’t go unnoticed. She thought Seret might actually tell her. She rubs the small gold heart between her fingers and sighs.

“Hey,” Seret says, turning Lysandra’s chin towards her. “It’s not because I don’t trust you, because I do. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone, more than you know.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Need, embarrassing and whiny, sneaks into Lysandra’s voice, but she ignores it. She’s entitled to this answer, at least.

“I don’t want to shatter your world.” Seret sighs and shifts to take Lysandra’s hands in both of hers. “I am from the south. I ran away from home at a young age to travel because my upbringing was hell, and I’ve never stopped since.”

Lysandra breathes out.

“None of that changes how I feel about you,” Seret continues, pleading, the most passionate Lysandra has ever heard her. “I have never met anyone like you, even with everywhere I’ve been. I do not want anyone but you.”

No one has ever said anything like that to Lysandra, and hearing it now gives her pause. The way Seret’s eyes burn on her skin with their dark intensity is exquisite. Lysandra will never get used to it. She does not want to.

“I would not want this with anyone else.” It does not mean the same thing, but Seret smiles, close mouthed, anyway. At times like this, Seret’s secretive nature makes Lysandra’s blood boil, unvoiced screams rise in her throat. She has given so much of herself already, why can Lysandra not know of her past, her family, her ugliest emotions?

She never wants Seret to treat her like glass. The first day they met, Seret got it right. Lysandra can’t bear the thought that Seret is any less perfect than she thinks, that would shatter her, not knowledge of the world beyond the valley.

Lysandra has gotten all she will today. She is content to sigh deeply and lay her head on Seret’s arm. Seret will stroke Lysandra’s hair, and the wind will ruffle her own, and Lysandra’s urge to push it back will fight the warmth settling into her bones. They are fine. They will be fine. Nothing more.

***

On lucky occasions, Seret shares stories of her travels from who knows when, who knows where. She has been everywhere, she said, and Lysandra believes her. She asks about the north, the far east, the west, and Seret’s homeland, the south.

The south could mean any number of things. Lysandra has never been out of Vashiri Valley, and her family have always been vague about what lies beyond their mountains, but Seret describes an actual ocean, the cold water wrapping around her ankles, the hot sand burning her feet.

She takes Lysandra to a desert in her mind, great, sprawling cities, icy lakes and snowy mountains to the north. To the east, she says, more ocean with great brown ships. Lysandra doesn’t care if she’s lying.

She lays in the grass on her side and lets the wind blow her skirts while she travels the world in her mind. Seret closes her eyes and traces mountains, rivers, canyons on her spine, unconsciously pointing in those directions. Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat.

Seret opens her eyes briefly to ask, “Am I boring you?”

Never. You couldn’t if you tried.

Lysandra shakes her head. Seret’s slow, easy smile returns, and the warm fingers on the skin revealed by her backless dress whisk her away to a thousand new worlds so big she can’t even imagine them.

***

“Does it ever bother you that I’m a princess?”

Seret smiles. “That isn’t something that would bother most people in my position.”

“I’d disagree. As the lover of a princess, you have no privacy, there’s expectations, rules you have to follow, harassment…I suppose a better word would be faze. You met and introduced yourself and spoke to me as if I were normal.”

“I called you my princess. the day we met.”

At Lysandra’s withering look, Seret chuckles. “Who said you aren’t normal? You didn’t have any control over what family you were born into. I would still feel the same if you hadn’t rejected your family and your role, if you were princess first and person second. It would be a bit harder to get to you, though, in that stronghold. To me, in that bar, you were just the prettiest girl in the nicest dress with the most captivating eyes. They told me you were a princess—so what? I love you anyway.”

Lysandra’s cheeks burn hot, and she chokes on saliva. The wind picks up, and she feels like she’s falling. How can Seret just say things like that and expect Lysandra not to explode and melt into the sun? “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Seret smiles again. “I’m not looking to get anywhere. I’m not like those people at the bar when we met. I’m not trying to be like anyone. I’m not not trying to be like anyone. I’m not looking to impress you, honestly. I’m just being honest.”

Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat like a branch stuck in a river, unfazed by the powerful oncoming waves.

Seret is clearly not looking to hear it back, but Lysandra gathers all her courage and quietly says, “I love you, too. I--”

She shies away from Seret’s intense gaze, burning on the back of her neck. “I’m not good at, uh. Saying things like this. Like you. But I want you to know that you’ve changed my life. I don’t know how to thank you for all that you’ve done for me, given me. This place is nothing short of perfect. Every minute we’ve spent together has been nothing short of perfect. I’m sorry I haven’t given you anything back.”

“My dear, you are quite mistaken. You’ve given me the ultimate gift: yourself. The opportunity to know your heart, your mind. You’ve let me in when I can tell you have trouble doing so.”

She kisses the back of Lysandra’s hand, looking up at her through her eyelashes, as she often does. It still makes Lysandra’s entire being heat like the sun itself came down to lay its rays gently onto her, powerful but careful with her.

“You are my entire world,” says Seret, the sun. “The most precious creature in all the places I’ve visited, all the creatures in this valley alone.”

Lysandra smiles. “You haven’t met Wynn Scylla’s dragonlings.”

Deflect. Defend. Dismiss. Seret sees through it.

Lysandra lays their lips together, hoping to convey without the painful process of words said aloud just how much Seret makes her hurt. Seret makes her burn and ache in the best of ways, like a satisfying stretch after waking up from a stiff nap.

Seret challenges her to face things she loves shying away from, things like the swelling of her heart which she hasn’t felt in years. Seret is terrifying, all consuming, but Lysandra can’t imagine a world without her. Much of her allure comes from her mystery, however infuriating her secrecy is.

Hours later, when they’re full and sated from dinner, after they wash the dishes side by side at the river and after they’ve bathed in the tub in the house, Lysandra hears a faint hum, high and low, continuous, lulling and soft. She turns her head and discovers it’s Seret, humming to herself as she drapes the wet towels out to dry. “What’s that you’re humming?”

Seret pauses her sweet melody. “Hm? Oh, just some music from the east. If I had the proper instruments, I would play the tune.”

Lysandra chokes on air. “You can play music, too?”

Seret smiles. “I can do many things.”

“Oh?” Lysandra doesn’t know where her sudden burst of courage comes from. Perhaps she’s the one looking to get somewhere. She raises an eyebrow and crooks a finger, hoping a low tone will convey her point. “Come here and show me.”

Seret is quiet, face blank. Lysandra wonders, belatedly, if she does in fact have unknown boundaries.

When Seret desperately searches her eyes for consent, Lysandra realizes it was shock and not disgust that rendered her speechless. “You mean—” Seret asks, hoarse, never breaking eye contact. Lysandra shivers. She had that effect on her?

“Yes.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent moment, Seret’s hungry gaze fixed on Lysandra’s pale shoulders, the towel wrapped around her middle. Then they’re both moving at once, mouths moving in the same pattern of Seret’s melody, a symphony of hearts beating in time.

If Lysandra is Seret’s world, Seret is the center of Lysandra’s.

***

At long last, Lysandra’s family gets wind of Seret. Lysandra doesn’t want to know how. Maybe Wynn and Petrus spread it around by accident—she loves those boys, but they couldn’t keep a secret if they tried. Maybe it was Arlin, who Lysandra finally let meet Seret.

All she does know is that her family is demanding to meet their middle princess’s lover, which means they’ll clarify if they’re allowed to be together or not.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandra whimpers, on the edge of tears in Seret’s arms. “I don’t want them to touch us with a ten foot stick, but if we don’t go, they’ll send someone out here to find us and disrupt our world. I’m so sorry.” Something about her family interfering in her and Seret’s affairs makes Lysandra boil like nothing else.

“It’s okay, my princess,” Seret murmurs into her hair, cupping the back of her head, rocking them back and forth. “We’ll go, I’ll tell them what they want to know, we’ll come right back here. It will only be a few hours. Their opinion won’t change how I feel about you, but I’ll do whatever you feel is best.” The sorrow in Seret’s tone implies too much.

Lysandra pulls back. “Don’t you ever think I’d leave you for my family. Right now, I’m thinking much the opposite.”

Seret purses her lips. “What objection would they have to me? The whole valley seems to like me, why wouldn’t they?”

“You’re not a noble, you don’t have a title, you have nothing to offer them, you won’t even tell anyone where you’re from, and you’re the lover of their middle child.”

Her voice is bitter, matching her heart. Seret’s arms tighten protectively around her. Lysandra switches from bitterness to anger to guilt in a second. How dare her family do this to them? What makes them think they have this right?

They control Vashiri Valley, but Lysandra can’t remember the last time they appeared in public, and their power is distant at best.

They control Vashiri Valley, but they can’t control her.

“No matter what they say,” Lysandra says into Seret’s chest, “I am never leaving you. You’ll have to pry me away. Whatever polite, diplomatic accusations or insults they throw at you, ignore them. You don’t have to tell anyone, especially them, about yourself. You’re with me because I love you, and that’s all we care about. Okay?”

“I’m not sure I’m the one who needs reassuring, Lysandra.”

“Shut up. I’ll be fine.” She pulls back from warmth to wipe her eyes, hot shame from crying coating her face, but Seret pulls her back in.

“There’s no shame here,” she whispers, kissing Lysandra’s temple. “Comforting you is my pleasure, though I wish you didn’t have a reason to cry. Everything’s going to be okay, my princess.”

Lysandra breathes.

She wears the gown she wore when she and Seret met, soft pink with a low neckline, tiered ruffles reaching down to her ankles, frilly short sleeves. Maybe familiarity will give her some comfort, whether that’s Seret’s hand on her thigh or this dress pinching her arm.

Seret wears the same black slacks, white shirt, and black jacket she always wears, thoroughly combs her hair, but leaves the hat at home.

At the dinner, she is perfect. she speaks only when spoken to, sits with that straight, enviable posture, praises the food like it’s the substance of heaven itself, the best she’s ever had.

She’s gracious, thankful, answers every question they ask. If she had a title, Lysandra knows her family would be simply begging them to marry.

Things start out pleasant, her family treating Seret with the polite, arm’s length attitude Lysandra expected. Finally, the dreaded question comes.

“So, Seret,” Lysandra’s mother asks, folding her hands, “where are you from?”

Lysandra clutches her necklace, the one Seret gave her, and prays. Please don’t let them be the first ones you tell. They don’t deserve that.

Seret smiles. “This soup is delicious, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, thank you, you’ve said so already.” Her mother is reaching the end of her patience—Lysandra has been on the other end of that short patience dozens of times. Her blue feathered hat and perfect red lips cover up a much nastier woman. “Please tell us about where you live.”

“Well, Lysandra and I have been living next to the forest all summer. The fields there are positively peaceful, you should visit them sometime.” She pauses to let horror sink into the hearts of luxury groomed royals. Lysandra bites down on a smile. “But I am technically still renting an apartment in the city.”

“Where you came from,” Lysandra’s father adds, sharp, on the end of his patience as well. Lysandra wonders how much Seret prepared for this. Seret is smart, she must’ve known she couldn’t wiggle her way out of the question with her usual tricks. “Maybe who your parents are.”

Seret appears to consider the question. “I’d rather not say,” she says, stirring her drink with her spoon. Silence falls onto the room. Lysandra holds her breath.

Her mother nods her head tightly. “Very well. In that case, we’re going to have to insist you stop seeing our daughter.”

Seret bows her head in humble acceptance, but Lysandra stands up, every fiber of her being filling with inexplicable rage. She told herself she wouldn’t display a reaction, she would just accept the denial and then ignore it, like Seret will, but hearing it so frankly from her mother’s lips is different from imagining it.

“You don’t have the right to tell me who I can and can’t see just because you feel like it,” she spits. “I’m an adult. I haven’t lived here full time or done the duties you ask of me for years. You should disown me. Save yourselves the trouble of dealing with me any longer.”

Seret’s hand lands firmly on her knee as if to say no, don’t. Lysandra captures her hand and holds it above the table for the whole family to see.

“You’re the one who chose to come here,” Lysandra’s mother says.

“Yes, because I knew you’d hound us if we didn’t.” Lysandra can feel her chest being ripped open from the top down. Seret’s fingers squeezing hers is the only thing tethering her to herself. She pulls tightly on Seret’s fingers, who takes the hint and stands. They walk out without another word, without a glance back.

When they get back to the cabin, Lysandra sinks onto the couch in their living room face first, and immediately begins to cry. The seconds it takes for the door to click and Seret’s boots to march across the wood are far too long, until warm arms wrap around Lysandra’s back and Seret buries her nose in the back of her hair. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, which only makes Lysandra sob harder.

“I don’t know why it still matters. I knew this was exactly what they’d say. I didn’t want it to affect me. I want to move on from them.”

Seret stays quiet, just letting Lysandra exist and holding her through it. They don’t speak about it again.

Things are different after that. The fields and the cabin have been tainted with mere mention of the royal family’s presence. The spell has been broken.

The wind comes less, the sun seems to burn in a way it didn’t before. Lysandra doesn’t treasure dawn and dusk the way she used to, and baths are just baths. The only thing that hasn’t lost its magic is Seret, as kind and loving as always.

A week later, Seret begins taking trips into the city to gather everything from her apartment and bring it to the cabin, everything of Lysandra’s from Wynn’s cottage.

No matter how many times Lysandra offers to help, Seret insists she’s fine, she doesn’t want Lysandra to come into the city and get hounded and harassed by the usual people dying to meet the princess.

Arlin and the others come to visit a few times to keep her company while Seret’s gone, to speak about the upcoming Academy year, their last year, to learn the place Lysandra disappeared to the entire summer.

She’s happy to see them, happy for the company, but her heart never stops aching for Seret, wondering what she’s doing. Arlin and the boys stay for dinner well after Seret’s back, so she’s never given a moment alone to think.

This continues for a month.

Arlin and the boys become as intimately familiar with the cabin, the fields, the river, and the forest as Lysandra was with Wynn’s cottage on the forest’s other side.

Lysandra flies toward the end of summer in a haze, perpetually afraid to break the peace, shatter the dream, feel the cold seep into her bones once more. She has grown so used to the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, the safety of Seret’s arms and her soothing voice.

Seret is never too loud, never jarring. Seret seems to float on the wind; sometimes her mind is lost to Lysandra as she stares into the sky at nothing.

Seret is—

Seret is many things. Nothing at all. Everything all at once.

Ineffable.

On what Seret says will be her last day of moving, she kisses Lysandra’s cheek and says, “I’ll be back,” like always. Lysandra thinks that’s rather silly—of course she’ll be back, that’s a given—but it’s sweet.

Arlin and the boys won’t be over since they have to collect their books for school in two weeks and otherwise prepare. Lysandra spends the day in the river, letting the water suck all the thoughts from her head.

By the evening, as Lysandra waits on the porch with dinner ready, Seret is still not back.

She probably got held up with the loading carts she’s been using, Lysandra tells herself as she gathers her shawl, puts on a dress fit for the town’s eyes, and begins the long walk there. She stopped to have dinner, or something. Maybe she met Wynn’s dragonlings at last.

Seret would’ve run back here herself to tell Lysandra she wouldn’t be back until later because of the dragonlings, or she would’ve sent a magical letter, or something. Seret has told her over and over how much she hates to see Lysandra in pain, and how she’ll never, ever be the cause of even the slightest worry.

Dread sits heavily in Lysandra’s chest.

The area near the school is in chaos, looking for her. No one she meets will tell her what’s going on, why they refuse to meet her eyes, why they offer faint smiles in place of explanations.

When Lysandra is shown the rooms in the Academy Seret broke into, the bizarre circles drawn on the floor in chalk, the thick books lying open, the blood splattered all over the floor, and finally, Seret’s body lying on the floor with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes closed, Lysandra falls to her knees and doesn’t get up.

Her entire being is shattered with a force she didn’t know existed, with waves of invisible pain too strong for this realm. Everything feels empty and quiet, but not quiet in the serene way of Seret’s.

She screams, and it rips her open. It rips every part of good out of her and replaces her with numb, muffled, faint feeling. Later the waves of pain will come back, the longing for Seret’s warm arms to wrap around her and make everything all better, but now, she’s able to look at the body with only thin trails of tears streaming down her face.

Seret’s white shirt is soaked through with a circle of bright red blood. The whole scene is almost unreal. If not for the blood and the cold feel of her hand, Lysandra’s Seret Ashling looks the same. Her hair is neatly arranged, her face free of the splattered blood.

Death is too simple a word for what happens to Seret.

She is gone, says a voice, Seret’s voice, her smiling face haunting Lysandra behind her closed eyes. The ghost of Seret’s fingers cup her jaw, stroke her cheekbones, brush soft lips over her forehead, push her spectacles up.

I love you, my princess, Lysandra hears when she touches her ear to the floor, soaking the front of her dress with her blood, such a cruel reminder of Seret’s humanity. She was brutally, unfortunately, unbelievably human. She may have reached beyond this realm to grab a fist of love for Lysandra, a greater capacity than any human could hold, but that couldn’t save her from her own humanity.

I’ll be back. Seret’s last words to her.

She wasn’t just going into town to move.

Lysandra clutches the necklace Seret gave her and squeezes until it hurts. It fits easily in her palm, hangs right over her heart. The death of Seret Ashling is going to hit Vashiri Valley like the rare storms, unforgiving and violent, bringing destruction that takes years to recover from.

Lysandra squeezes the necklace, closes her eyes, and breathes slowly, steadily. The storm will wipe her out faster and harder than anyone else, but she’s the one who has to control it singlehandedly, and that will be about as easy as trying to capture an actual storm from the ground.

She won’t survive this, but she’s known for months that if anything ever happened to Seret, she never would. She can only submit to the darkness—the bad kind, this time—awaiting her, return to reality behind this door.

#writing #writeblr #my wip #my writing #fantasy writing #fantasy writeblr #fantasy #lila's wips: dosa #bean's excerpts #lila's short stories

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esperwatchesfilms · 3 years

Text

Dead Poets Society (1989)

John Keating: O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody? Not a clue? It's from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now, in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating or, if you're slightly more daring, O Captain, my Captain.

John Keating: I was the intellectual equivalent of a 98-pound weakling. I would go to the beach and people would kick copies of Byron in my face.

The above gif is misquoting a bit here. It annoys me, so I’m providing the proper quote:

John Keating: Because we are food for worms, lads. Because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die.

[after hearing "The Introduction to Poetry"] John Keating: Excrement! That's what I think of Mr. J. Evans Pritchard. We're not laying pipe! We're talking about poetry. How can you describe poetry like American Bandstand? "I like Byron, I give him a 42 but I can't dance to it!"

John Keating: This is a battle, a war, and the casualties could be your hearts and souls.

John Keating: We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering; these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life.

John Keating: Beauty. Romance. Love. These are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish ... What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here -- that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.” That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

McAllister: "Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams and I'll show you a happy man." John Keating: "But only in their dreams can men be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be." McAllister: Tennyson? John Keating: No. Keating.

John Keating: Language was developed for one endeavor, and that is... Mr. Anderson? Come on, are you a man or an amoeba? [Todd stays silent] John Keating: Mr. Perry? Neil Perry: To communicate. John Keating: No! To woo women!

Todd Anderson: YAWP! John Keating: There it is! You see, you have a barbarian in you after all! Now, you don’t get away that easy. There’s a picture of Uncle Walt up there. What does he remind you of? Don’t think, answer. Go on. Todd Anderson: A m-m-m-madman. John Keating: What kind of madman? Don’t think about it! Just answer again. Todd Anderson: A cr-crazy madman. John Keating: No, you can do better than that. Free up your mind. Use your imagination! Say the first thing that pops into your head, even if it’s total gibberish. Go on, go on! Todd Anderson: A-a-a sweaty-toothed madman. John Keating: Good God, boy, there’s a poet in you after all! There. Close your eyes. Close your eyes! Close 'em! Now, describe what you see.

Todd Anderson: Uh, I-I close my eyes. John Keating: Yes. Todd Anderson: Uh, and this image floats beside me. John Keating: A sweaty-toothed madman. Todd Anderson: A sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain. John Keating: Oh, that's excellent! Now, give him action; make him do something! Todd Anderson: H-His hands reach out and choke me. John Keating: That's it! Wonderful, wonderful! Todd Anderson: And all the time he's mumbling. John Keating: What's he mumbling? Todd Anderson: Mumbling truth. John Keating: Yeah, yes. Todd Anderson: Truth like-like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. John Keating: [some of the class start to laugh; Todd opens his eyes, Keating blocks them to get him to close them again] Forget them! Forget them! Stay with the blanket. Tell me about that blanket! Todd Anderson: Y-Y-You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. You kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us. From the moment we enter crying t-to the moment we leave dying, it'll just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream. [Todd opens his eyes, there’s a long pause, then the class applauds] John Keating: Don't you forget this.

John Keating: Even though others may think them odd or unpopular; even though the herd may go, [imitating a goat] John Keating: "That's ba-a-a-a-ad." Robert Frost said, "Two roads diverged in the wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

Neil Perry: [finds Todd sitting alone on the roof] Hey! Todd Anderson: Hey. Neil Perry: What's going on? Todd Anderson: Nothin'. Today's my birthday. Neil Perry: Is today your birthday? Happy birthday! Todd Anderson: Thanks. Neil Perry: What'd you get? Todd Anderson: [indicating the desk set lying beside him] My parents gave me this. Neil Perry: Isn't this the same desk set... Todd Anderson: Yeah. Yeah, they gave me the same thing as last year. Neil Perry: Oh. Todd Anderson: Oh. Neil Perry: [laughing] Maybe they thought you needed another one. Todd Anderson: [laughing] Maybe they weren't thinking about anything at all. The funny thing about this is, I-I didn't even like it the first time. Neil Perry: Todd, I think you're underestimating the value of this desk set. [picks it up] Neil Perry: I mean, who would want a football or a baseball or... Todd Anderson: Or a car. Neil Perry: Or a car, if they could have a desk set as wonderful as this one? I mean, if-if I were ever going to buy a desk set twice -- [both boys chuckle] Neil Perry: -- I would probably buy this one. Both times! In fact, its shape is... it's rather aerodynamic, isn't it? [walks to the edge of the roof] Neil Perry: You can feel it. This desk set wants to fly! [hands it to Todd] Neil Perry: Todd? The world's first unmanned flying desk set. [Todd throws it off the roof, giving a yell (or a yawp!) - papers fly everywhere and things crash and clatter to the ground while the boys laugh] Neil Perry: Oh my! Well, I wouldn't worry. You'll get another one next year.

Charlie Dalton: [answering disconnected phone] Welton Academy, hello. Yes, he is. Just a moment. Mr. Nolan, it's for you. It's God.

John Keating: There's a time for daring and there's a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for.

John Keating: Phone call from God. If it had been collect, that would have been daring.

The above is also not what is said in the film. “Tell me what you feel!” is the actual line.

*didn’t put us *up* to anything - these gifs misquoting are killing me.

ESE: 120/100

50 +5 for young Ethan Hawke +10 for Robin Williams +4 for the alternative four pillars: Travesty. Horror. Decadence. Excrement. +5 for Kurtwood Smith -10 for Neil’s father, Mr. Perry +5 for Keating walking straight out of the classroom on day 1 +5 for Carpe Diem +5 for Keating instructing the boys to rip the shitty introduction to poetry out of the book +2 for Keating’s whistling -5 for Cameron being a little wussy boy +2 for “rude squeak” +2 for sneaking out to read poetry +10 for the centerfold with poem written on the back +10 for the Congo creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with the golden track -10 for calling Todd out in front of the class +5 for the bed chase that finally gets Todd involved +5 for Neil getting the part of Puck in Midsummer Night’s Dream -10 for students like Hopkins +15 for Keating helping Todd to find his voice +5 for saxophone -10 for the same desk set -5 for bringing the two girls to the DPS meeting -5 for kissing the forehead of a girl you barely know while she’s asleep -10 for the over-reaction of Chet -10 for corporal punishment +10 for “Nuwanda” not breaking -10 for Neil’s super-unreasonable father +15 for Keating’s advice to Neil -5 for Knox’s persistence -5 for Neil lying to Keating about talking to his father +10 for Neil’s performance as Puck +5 for the amount of praise Neil receives for his performance +10 for Keating’s concern -10 for suicide aftermath -15 for Cameron being a fucking fink +20 for Nuwanda (Charlie) punching Cameron in his stupid face -10 for the school using Keating as a scapegoat +20 for Todd’s show of appreciation and those who joined in solidarity on their desks +10 for Hopkins joining and standing on his desk, too

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queensdivas · 4 years

Text

Hidden Blade Chapter 2

Did this all on a plane and a little bit today! Now that I’m done I plan on working on even more shit. Like my god has this winter break been busy af. But I hope you enjoy the new chapter because it was a little longer than I wanted it to be.

Whoops.

IF you would like to be tagged please let me know!

Next Chapter

Previous Chap

Masterlist

Have you actually ever watched an episode of Leave it to Beaver? What even is that show? I get watching like Little House on the Prairie, M*A*S*H (God I love Mash) and even I Love Lucy. But it feels like this dude one loves his family shows. Don’t really see why but who the heck else knows in this crazy world.

I walked into one of the trailers to see a very large English Mastiff come from around one of the shelves to start sniffing me. Slobbering all over my legs since wearing shorts instead of jeans or some sort of Eddie Bauer travel pants.

“That’s Wally. Careful his slobber goes everywhere.” Four was flipping through a pile of passports as I looked at the wall that was covered with pictures, news articles, and maps. It kind of reminds you of that meme where the dude looks completely insane while trying to explain something. I sat down on one of the desk chairs that was empty as I noticed Leave it to Beaver was playing.

“Did he get you hooked into it as well?” I leaned back as I noticed a large file that had Murat Alimov with a big red CIA stamp on it. Juicy!

“So how come the people of Turgistan hasn’t revolted against the dick hole in charge?” Four asked as I opened the file to see his picture.

“They need someone to get behind in order to start the revolution. Ya know. Someone to get behind. The French got behind Maximilien Robespierre, the people in South America had Simon Bolivar, and the list goes on and on. So without someone to properly lead them, what’s the point of starting a revolution when you don’t have someone to lead.” I began skimming through his file to see that THE STUPID AMERICANS GAVE HIM BACK TO HIS BROTHER!? Never let them do anything!!

“So how did one find you?” He asked as I closed the file then threw it on the desk.

“Ummmm. God it was really weird and very ummm..perfect timing I should say.” Wally came over to put his head on my thighs as I began scratching the top of his head.

“I travelled to Ahmedabad after the Assassination in South Sudan where I planned on shutting down a board of nasty men who were shipping child brides all over the world. Yet something that I have a nasty habit of is trying to put on shoes way bigger than mine!”

“ALI RUN YOUR ASS!” Screaming as I turned the corner that was leading towards the great hall of the palace. Ali came behind as guns began shooting at us from the top of the stairs. The front doors burst open as I darted to the left.

Ali followed swiftly behind me as we slid into one of the living rooms to duck behind a couch. I released my mag to see I had eight rounds left, and we have to battle an entire palace full of guards! At Least the board is dead so that stops this nasty shit in this house!

“Ali! There’s a drop through the dining room that leads into the river!” I yelled over the gunfire as he checked his mag to count his bullets.

“I got six! I’ll keep you covered!” He popped his head up to shoot one of them coming into the room. I popped up to shoot another guard as more came through the front door. God damn it we’re screwed!

“You get your ass out of here now!” Ali screamed as I crawled over to where he was bunkered down and handed him the rest of my mags.

“You follow me alright!” Grabbing a bottle of scotch then ripping apart of the sofa for the rag. I stuffed it, shook the bottle then pulled my lighter out of my pocket. I lit it then chucked it over to the middle of the great hall.

“GO GO GO!” I yelled as we got up from behind the couch towards the window. He smashed the glass as I stuck my head out to see the drop. Jesus Christ that’s a little too high. Fuck fuck!

I climbed up onto the window ledge as I was about to jump as Ali began climbing up but was stabbed in his back.

“SHIT ALI!” With his last bit of energy he pushed me off the ledge.

Sitting in my apartment as I stared at the picture of Ali and I during our weekend trip to El Arish. The one time I think it;s okay to work with a partner we end up becoming best friends and he gets stabbed in the back! Don’t worry I’m not one of those people who are like “I work alone since everyone I’ve loved has died!” Usually it’s too much work to have a partner or some sort of companion when it comes to this kind of work.

Someone lightly knocked on my door as I pulled out my dagger to slowly approach the door. Fuck fuck who knows I live here? Looking through the peephole to see some GAP looking guy standing right infront of the door. Swinging the door open as it scared him a little bit till he held up his arms towards me.

“Relax Machete. If I wanted to hurt you I wouldn’t have knocked on your door would I?” That’s what most people thought in the seventies and look how many people died because they thought this was...as I opened the door for this stranger.

“I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anything. May I come in?” I can handle myself I think so if he tries something I’ll kick his ass. I lowered my dagger a little bit to move out of the way for him. He came into my apartment to look around in my little hole in the wall.

“Cozy.” I followed him on the other side of the room.

“Good idea. Keeping a safe distance from me. Which is why I’ve been looking at your field work. What you did in South Sudan and recently in Jordan. Quite impressed that they haven’t tracked you down yet.” He stared at the large replica painting of The Virgin on the rocks.

“Love some Da Vinci paintings.” He acts like a much calmer Deadpool, also not as sarcastic as him.

“So. Who are you? A rich person looking for security, I’m not a hitman so I’m not going to kill someone for ya. Drink?” I made it to the liquor shelf as I grabbed the bottle of Shieldaig Speyside.

“No thank you.” He walked away from the painting then over to my original Pierre Mignard. See when you shut down a nasty group of people, I wanted this picture of some random women. I stood away from him still as he turned around, I took a sip of the drink as I waited for him to explain himself.

“I get the feeling you enjoy killing those who want to cause harm onto the innocent. You wanna know what I see in you? I see someone who's willing to do some crazy shit in order to save the world. I mean you just jumped out of palace after destroying a child marriage cult. What if I could give you an endless amount of resources, even more targets, and more hands?” Definitely some better resources would be nice. But there is always some sort of catch in this situation.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for. Someone who isn’t afraid to truly get their hands dirty to save the world.” I do enjoy saving little parts of the world.

“Now imagine taking down even bigger ass holes of the world.” Am I finally going after all of North Korea? God I really wanna destroy that pig with all my mighty!

“So what’s the catch exactly?”

“You’ll be dead and can’t ever see your loved ones again.” Well jokes on this dude, haven’t seen my family in years and they probably thought I was dead anyhow so this works perfectly!

“I’m in. Don’t worry about my family because they think I’m dead anyhow.” I walked over to him to shake his hand.

“How the fuck he found you is still bizarre. Still have no idea how he found me in the middle of a robbery.” Wally began walking away as I put my feet on the desk. Now I’m super curious how he met the rest of them now since he ended up stalking me.

“How did he find you?”

He began telling me how the robbery he was apart of turned into a shit hole of a plan for his ex girlfriend to basically take the jewels instead of saving him. Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest because hoes be loyal. His eyes...are just so damn enticing. The way the sun brightens them reminds you the top of a forest. A very endless forest before you. That little scar next to his eye is just very nice to look at as well. Kind of weird but I enjoy it. Does he have knuckle tattoos? (For the record I am listening, it’s called multitasking.)

“Jesus he set you in a saw trap?” He reached into the mini fridge for two bottles of water since the sun was warming up the trailer like a sauna at this point.

“Yet here you are getting a calm welcome when I thought the guy was going to blow off my fucking face.” He slid the water across the desk as I cracked it open. Wally and his drool began sniffing the water bottle as I tried to drink it.

“But he did save my life after the fall so that’s the only good thing that happened that day.” He chugged some of his water as I nodded in agreement.

“Wally. Wanna get my soldiers out and have a battle.” Beaver asked Wally as The next episode of leave it to beaver began playing so I turned my focus towards the tv.

“Nah.” Wally told Beaver. Four turned up the TV as I noticed a box of Cheez-its next to the desk. I’ve heard these things very good for most American snack food.

“Four we’ve scored!” I yelled as I began opening the box of Cheez-its. Back to the show. We watched as Wally and his friends were tackling each other with Beaver stuck underneath them all.

“Poor Beaver. Such a sweet little kid.” I stuffed a bunch of cheez-its in my mouth then passed four the box.

“One is completely obsessed with this show, he makes all these references for it all the time. I think he’s an orphan actually, we got a little bet on it if you wanna put some money in.” Now that I think about it, I can totally see one being some sort of orphan or in the system.

“Forty dollars.” I reached in my pocket to pull out my wallet, grabbing a couple of fives handing it to him. I know we should be working on finding his brother, or doing some sort of work but this is much more fun.

“Wait they’re gonna charge Beaver three dollars just to join their club? I get that hanging out with little siblings can always be some sort of bother but wow what ass holes. Imagine being that cruel.” I commented as I threw a Cheez-it at Wally's friends after the tv.

“Man. A time when your six year old son could talk to a random stranger asking on how to make money.” Four and I chuckled as Beaver came walking out of the garage with his “this space for rent sign” on him. I mean he’s trying harder than most people in this world so I have to give him credit where it’s due.

“You two done? C’mon. Three thinks he onto something.” Five stuck her head into the trailer as Wally walked away from me as he kept to box of cheez-its with him.

We walked into the trailer as three was listening very closely to a phone conversation as one and seven were talking to each other. I get the feeling that shit is about to go down if three finds the location of the four generals.

“His top General knows the location of him so once they leave Turgistan for something, we go after them and figure out where the brother is.” One told seven as I began looking at the four pictures of the fuckers themselves.

“You ever met people like them?” One asked as I kept staring at their pictures. Four handed me a box of Cheez-its.

“I mean all monsters of humanity are usually either fat, old, or a man. Hell even all three for some massive destruction if history says anything. Or they have weird facial hair like Stalin or Hitler. Except for Elizabeth Bathory because that bitch was truly...

“Guys. Shut the fuck up.” Three barked as his face went from focused to ecstatic in a matter of seconds.

“AH we’re going to Vegas baby!” Three laughed as he put their conversation on speaker.

“This arms dealer will be meeting you at the speedway track around two for the deal.” God this is disgusting. Instead of trying to make our country a better place, go to Vegas to fuck some slut, spend your money, and to add on top of that get some dangerous chemicals so we can kill more people. Love it!

“Las Vegas has more facial recognition software than any place on Earth.” One began telling two and three as I began turning down the volume of their conversations.

“Oh I know what I’m gonna be!” Get this sinking feeling he loves dressing up.

“Choose your disguises wisely.” Disguises? I have to dress up? If they think I’m going to wear a pencil dress, twelve inch heels, and a face full of makeup I will leave right now!

“I’m a grown man, I can handle my shit.”

“I don’t think that’s how the expression goes, don’t handle your shit. Flush it down the toilet like a grown-ass man. Be subtle. Blend in. Disappear. Me, two, and three are going to figure out where on earth they’re hiding his brother. Eight and four I want you two to intercept the gas, destroy it all, find the supplier and eliminate him. Sounds easy enough?” Yes. Going into Las Vegas, finding a bunch of illegal gas, destroy it, and be home by five. Definitely easy.

“Just one question. How do you even destroy Sarin gas? Look I’m a pretty smart lady but destroying gas is something I’ve yet to achieve in my life one.”

“Here. Study this before we leave for Vegas. Ya got 24 hours to nail it.” He slid a book across the table.

How to Disable Sarin Gas Bombs for Dummies.

Written by a Genius.

Handwritten and in a bright green binder. Glad to know we make handcrafted things in this squad. I opened the binder as it showed a step by step on how to disarm them. Kind of like when you’re building a lego set. Except instead of joy you get when you’re trying to build a spaceship, you end up pissing your pants because one fatal mistake and we die!

“Love the homemade touch one. Very professional and doesn’t make me want to shit my pants in absolute fear.” I picked it up as we began dispersing.

“I’m just gonna take this with us. Rather us not die.” Telling four as I handed him the binder for him to start skimming through the binder. Gotta love the fact that my first mission with these guys is disarming a bunch of chemical bombs. Getting that sinking feeling again that they’re a bunch of chaotic people doing chaotic things.

It’s absolutely perfect.

Taglist:

@bonafiderocketqueen @filmslutt @imjustboredso @intoanothermind @4lendow-norris @wickedholland @takemetoneverland420 @raylan-c @itsmeaudrieee @leah-halliwell92

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #6 underground #6 Underground Four #6 Underground Billy #Ben Hardy 6 Underground #Four/Billy #Four #Four x Reader #Four/Billy x reader #6 Underground Netflix

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secret-diary-of-an-fa · 3 years

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The End of Year Awards Are Back... and This Time, It’s Personal!

And so we approach the end of 2020, the year that never really began. On paper, at least, it looked incredibly promising. There were lots of great movies slated to come out; culture seemed slightly less paucity-riddled and pointless than usual; good things were in the air. Then COVID happened, and basically fucked everything. Actually, that’s not quite true: my personal year has been fucking spectacular. I’m in a long-term relationship with a gorgeous woman for the first time in forever- no more abrupt trysts and stolen moments for yer humble narrator: I’ve got a sumptuously plus-size lady-friend who actually wants to spend substantial amounts of time me (and has knockers you could sled down, were you so inclined). I also started a Youtube channel where I upload performances of magic tricks I’ve designed and a few people seem to quite like it. Oh, and I’ve written four novels, with a fifth well on its way to completion. Unfortunately, that’s my life, not the life of our civilisation and culture as a whole. The fact that bugger all happened in that makes this end-of-year round-up a little hard to write. With that in mind, I’m going to hand out the gongs for 2020, but I’m also going to do my usual dodge of giving end-of-year awards to things that I discovered in 2020, even if they came out the year, decade or century before. It’s not like any right-minded person gives a hoot about my opinion anyway. Right then, everyone clear on the rules? Then let’s roll up our sleeves and plunge elbow deep into the fetid trough of our decaying society to ferret out the best and worst of the Things That Humans Have Done Recently.

The ‘I Like It Because It Confused Thick People’ Award for Best High-Concept Sci-Fi Movie... … Goes to the sterling Tenet, a spy film that used entropy inversion and symmetric, opposite-direction timelines within the same physical space the way most spy films use hacking and guns. Christopher Nolan films are always intricately constructed and meticulously-executed, but this one must have had Japanese Master Puzzle-Box Makers crying into their breakfast cereal. Is breakfast cereal a thing in Japan? I honestly I have no idea. For some reason, all I can imagine is a sort of dry kedgeree where all the ingredients that aren’t rice have been removed. But I digress. For all its intricacy, Tenet is actually really easy to follow once you’ve grasped the basic premise that there’s a machine that lets people move backwards through time, and that this makes them appear to move in reverse to the rest of the world while they perceive the rest of the world as moving in reverse. Nolan maintains a mastery of cinematic visual language that makes even the most abstruse concept easy to wrap your head around. Nonetheless, following Tenet’s release, dumb people took to the Internet on mass to complain that the film was confusing and stupid, never once realising that their inability to conceptualise time in non-linear ways was their own failing, not Nolan’s. I find that refreshing. It’s nice to see a sci-fi film that’s actually made for smart-cookie sci-fi fans and doesn’t give a hoot if it alienate thickos.

The Award for Most Inexplicably Compelling Web Comic… … Goes to Questionable Content. I originally started reading Questionable Content because I’d heard that the female lead and love interest was a plus size lassie and that shit’s my jam. However, the art style makes everyone look like a skinny indie-type, regardless of their actual, in-universe size, so it doesn’t do much to titillate my Fat Admiring Titillation Centres. And yet, I’m over five hundred ‘episodes’ in and still reading. The thing is, I couldn’t tell you why for the life of me. Maybe it’s the hope that the art style will evolve to the point where the people look like actual human beings with different body types (but then, why would I care unless I was invested for some other reason). Maybe it’s the fact that when I get one of the many, many obscure band or pop culture references, I feel a little buzz of kinship with the writer. Maybe it’s the fact that it takes place in a universe where robots and superheroes are things that regularly happen, yet most of the strips are just normal people chatting shit in a coffee shop and the slice-of-life narrative/sci-fi setting appeals to my sense of juxtaposition. I don’t know, but I find it really compelling to the extent that I’ve pissed away entire days reading it. I have a horrible feeling that it’s a short step from this to really angsty hentai. If I start singing the praises of that, somebody please shoot me in the crotch.

The ‘Forest Gump Debating Peter Andre’ Award For Most Sustained or Elongated Instance of Stupidity… … Goes to Donald Trump. I was tempted just to award this gong to his entire presidency, but that wasn’t just stupid: it was also venal, corrupt, horrifying and punctuated by terrible moments of low cunning. So, instead, this award goes to his ‘soup’ rant. For those of you who missed it, the former President of the United States spent a really, really long time (in the run-up to the election) wittering on about protestors throwing cans of soup at police. What was dumb and weird about it was that he appeared to be extolling the virtues of soup as a siege weapon, going into really specific detail about how it was better than a brick because it could be thrown with more force, finishing with the utterance that protestors would just argue that “this is just soup for my family” if they were caught with the cans… which is phrased wrong in such a subtle and inhuman way it’s hard to imagine that anyone actually ever said it, at least in those words. I have no idea if protestors in America were throwing soup cans at police (which would be entirely justified considering how many innocent people American police have murdered in cold blood quite recently) or if this was a fantasy dreamed up by the former president in the cloudcuckooland that is his diseased little brain. Either way, the connected rant was balls deep in dumb.

The Most Disturbing Unintentional Impression of Vincent Price Award… … Goes to the narrator from One Step Beyond, a Twilight Zone-esque anthology of weirdness that purports to be based on true events and has to be seen to be believed. The stories are oft-disturbing instances of spooky-inflected human drama and can occasionally be quite disconcerting… until they’re book-ended by a dude who sounds like Vincent Price reading a children’s book in a really earnest voice. It’s weird and no, it didn’t hit our screens in Space Year 2020, it dates back to Ye Olden Times of the 1950s or 60s, when men were men, women were women and technincolour was a distant dream that could get you strung up for witchcraft. Nonetheless, I only encountered it this year, so it’s getting its prize. I warned you I was going to pull this shit, but you foolish fools didn’t listen.

The ‘It’s Not Gay If I Don’t Clench’ Award for Cognitive Dissonance… … Goes to Amazon Prime, the content-making branch of evil, tax-dodging, anti-monopoly-law-breaking megalith Amazon. You see, while Big Daddy Amazon is off being incredibly sinister and worrying, like a shifty vampire hanging off the economy’s throat, the creative people at Amazon Prime are busy making or acquiring some of the flat-out best TV ever committed to a streaming-service, from the extra-weird slice of fun-pie that is The Tick, to the entertainingly horrifying cultural dissection of The Boys to the utterly unique Carnival Row, to the superbly adapted American Gods. It’s a bit like discovering that Geoffrey Dahlmer single-handedly created a body of artistic work to rival Vincent Van Gogh’s when he wasn’t pouring acid onto the brains of emotionally vulnerable young adults. It gives me a headache.

The Clint Eastwood Award for Most Effective Older Gentlemen… … Goes to Joe Biden, for unseating dipshit in chief Donald Trump with the casual badassery of a Wild West gunslinger shooting a baddy (probably played by Leonardo Di Caprio) in the balls. I mean, he’s not the best Prez America could ask for but a) as a Brit I don’t have to care and b) anyone who ousts Trump gets mad props from me.

The ‘It’s a Pity Everything Else is Shit Now’ Award for Best New Ongoing Series… … Goes to my own Youtube series, Victor The Magician, in which I claim to be a reality-hopping, interdimensional wizard on an endless quest to… perform magic, basically. I’ll admit that the quality is super-variable (Youtube algorithms and their constant demand for fresh content be a harsh mistress, etc., etc.). However, when I’m good, I’m really good. If you’re looking for a punch-line other than the fact that this whole bit is a self-promoting plug, it’s this: my Youtube series really was the best thing to come out this year. Not because I’m great or anything, just by default. A promising year really did turn into a cultural wasteland the moment COVIDius Rex reared its scaly head.

The Zombie Ian Curtis Award for Most Crushing Disappointment… … Goes to Rick and Morty Series 4. As I think I’ve said before, it was still good, but it just didn’t reach the dizzy heights of nihilistic lunacy achieved in series 1-3. I think the problem is that the audience is meant to learn something from Rick’s poor choices, even if he doesn’t, because the creators saw the amazing success of Bojack Horseman and decided they wanted a slice of that sweet, tangy deconstructionist pie. It worked up to a point in the climax of Series 3, but having made their point, the showrunners probably should have moved onto a different point. They forgot that the appeal of Rick Sanchez is his combination of ‘entertaining car-crash of a human being’ and ‘unstoppable superbeing’. Push him through an arc and you risk breaking the thing that makes him and the show so endlessly watchable. Rick, unlike Bojack, just wasn’t built for heavy introspection. Also, the team hired on new writers who were less than familiar with the characters, setting and subtext, and that’s always an invitation to disaster.

The Special Sir Mixalot Award for Posteriority… ...Goes to… my girlfriend and glamorous assistant, Mystic Miss Terri, who’s arse is gorgeous and majestic.

The ‘Are They STILL Making That?’ Award for a Show You Forgot Existed And is Now Back… … Goes to Supernatural, which never technically went away and whose final series is apparently being broadcast on one of the 4 channels (though who knows which one, any more), It’s kind of nice to realise it’s still out there and be reminded that there are still people who care deeply about what happens to it. It’s like when you remember ‘oh yeah, [insert cute animal here] actually exists and isn’t just an internet meme. That’s nice’. Also, it’s good to see Jared Padelacki working steadily. It can’t be easy to find acting gigs when most producers just want to shoot you and mount your antlers over a fireplace.

The Irritating Magician Award for Something That Just Won’t Fuck Off… ...Goes to this blog entry, which is three pages long in Word. Good grief. Bye y’all! See you next year, assuming that the last few days of 2020 don’t culminate in a civilisation-destroying attack by giant space-ants. If that seems worryingly specific, let’s just say that- as Leonard Cohen would say “I’ve seen the future and, brother, it is murder”… by giant space-ants.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #2020 #2021 #New Year

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lilac-city-skylines · 4 years

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Deet The Flower Child

This is inspired by an idea I had recently: what if Deet had some of those Urdroop berries that Rian told her about in the Circle of the Suns? If you don’t like silly high people, I do not recommend reading this.

It had been several hours since her last meal. Rian had happily shared some of his breakfast with her that morning and Deet was determined to find a meal of her own to share. She was a bit tired of not knowing her way around Stone-in-the-Wood, some of the other gelfling would tease her about not knowing her way around the forest that surrounded them. She knew a few paths and the way to the river, but that was all. So, when a few gelfling were talking about a new berry patch they’d found, she was determined to go on her own to find it.

Now, in the middle of the woods, there was a small scattering of bright red berries waiting for her on the forest floor. It didn’t take much for her to notice them, they were bright red after all. She faintly remembered Rian saying something about these berries, but she couldn’t quite remember what it was. Was it that they were too bitter? She decided it was a good idea to check and see. So, happy as a running fizzgig, she popped three in her mouth. Instantly, the delicate skin broke open and the berries exploded in her mouth. It was like tiny bitter bombs opening on her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to spit them out. She was pleasantly surprised when the bitter quickly faded into something sugary sweet all across her tongue. She smiled and quickly gathered the rest of the berries from the ground into the leather pouch she’d brought along, wondering why the trees were turning purple.

Rian was getting worried. Deet hadn’t been seen in hours. Usually, she would let someone know where she was going or if she was leaving the village at all. It was common to find her sitting near the forge building bombs, walking and talking with anyone she could, or even running with some of the more feral fizzgig. The feral fizzgig always seemed calmer around her anyway. Rian had checked everywhere; he’d been to her parents, the parts of the river where she liked to wash her clothes (when she bothered), and he even braved checking different trees that Deet would occasionally fly to the top of. It was around mid-afternoon when he found her.

He’d taken to following strange marks he’d found on the forest floor like someone had dragged their feet in the dirt. That’s when he heard Deet singing. He could tell the sound of her voice anywhere, sweet and melodic, carrying across the air. It didn’t take Rian long to find her, but he wasn’t exactly prepared for what he’d found.

There was a small clearing in the trees, springy moss growing out of the ground and flowers starting to blood on the trees. Rian remembered playing in this clearing as a child. Deet was there, singing a nonsense song and giggling between the lines, spinning and dancing in circles. Her shoes were nowhere to be found and her Nurloc dress had several new stains. Rian could see a few flowers poking out of her hair as well.

“Deet, are you alright?” She turned sharply and exploded into giggles.

“Oh! Hi Rian! What’re you doing here?” Deet could barely get the words out between her laughter. “Did you come here to dance too?”

The exact amount of confusion that washed over Rian was hard to describe. Deet was a generally happy gelfling, always smiling and making new friends, but this was an entirely different level. “Uh, no, I didn’t.” He took a few steps towards her, to which she responded by twirling in a few more circles and collapsing into his arms. “Are you alright?”

“I’m great!” She stood herself up and took a few deep breaths. “It’s all so wonderful here! I never knew that trees could sing, did you? And they can make so many more colors than I thought before. I thought they just staid brown! How come you never told me they did so much?”

“The trees aren’t singing,” Rian quickly took hold of her hands and bent his knees in an effort to get a better look at her eyes. They were always so big and dark but, in the light that cut between the branches, he could see her pupils took up much more space than they needed to. He couldn’t look for too long since Deet was busy pulling away and resuming her nonsense song.

A bit of panic rose in Rain’s chest. This wasn’t normal. Was she hurt? Was this some Grottan sickness he didn’t know about. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t leave her alone like this. Hup had told him about the time she tried to make friends with an angry and hungry Arathim before their alliance, he wondered if she would just wander happily into the mouth of a hungry animal like this. He shuddered. Like this, Deet could twirl headfirst into a patch of gobbles and she’d still probably ask if they wanted to be her friend. He needed to get her out of the forest and back to Stone-in-the-Wood, someone would know how to help her there. “Come on, let’s get back home.” He gently grabbed at her hands and pulled her towards the path.

“Aw, but why?” She whined and tugged at his hand, back to the clearing. “I want to stay with all my friends.”

He had to think quickly, the last thing Rian wanted was to leave Deet in the forest to get reinforcements. He also didn’t want to use force, not when she was so clearly elated. “What about your friends in the village?”

“Well, I need to be with these friends, see?” She pointed at a patch of moss. “He wants me to stay!”

“Listen, Deet, do you know what day it is?” She shook her head. “It’s baking day.” He couldn't pick up any recognition in her face. “It’s the day of the week that Kylan bakes bread. I think he’s making sweetbreads this week.” That did the trick. Deet hummed and her eyes got just a bit wider. “Yeah, and you can’t have any of the sweetbreads if you don’t come back to the village.”

“Well, you should have said that sooner you silly . . . wonderful . . . handsome thing!” She kissed at his cheek and, shaking her hands from his, took off. Rian was still processing where the corner of her lips had accidentally met his before he sprinted off after her.

Full of endless energy, Rian had to beg Deet to slow down so he could catch up. “How can you expect me to go so slow where there’s food over there!” She pointed in the direction of the village. “Food! Rian!” She stopped for a moment, her entire face knotting in confusion. “Food . . . food . . . RIAN THE FOOD!”

“Yes! The food!” He held up his hands in defense as she opened a small leather pouch and dumped the contents into her hand. “What about the food?”

Deet shoved her hands at him, full of plump red berries. “I wanted to give you food! It’s good! Not really. It’s bitter. But then it’s sweet! And I wanted to share food with you because you shared your food with me.” Rian had to force himself not to lose every ounce of cool in his system. Urdroops. Her outstretched hands were full of Urdroops.

“Deet, how many of those did you eat?” Deet’s face fell almost immediately.

“You don’t want them?” Rian could practically feel her prior elation hit the floor. “But I really wanted to share food with you. That’s why I went on a walk in the first place.” He had no choice, he had to preserve Deet’s good mood if it killed him, and judging by the large number of berries in her hands, Rian was pretty sure it would kill him.

“Oh! No, no, no, no, no! I want them! They look, uh, so good! I just can’t wait to eat them! But we have to wait because uh . . . because don’t you think they’d taste good with Kylan’s bread?” Deet’s smile recovered in record time. “Yeah, so why don’t you give those to me, thank you, and we’ll keep them with me for now.” He gently pocketed the berries, pleased with his ability to avoid whatever experience Deet had accidentally thrown herself into. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he started guiding her back to the path.

Making their way back to Stone-in-the-Wood, Deet told him all about the different trees. She let him know about the colors they were and how they were singing. He was careful to play along with her mood, keeping her as happy as possible, without letting go of her shoulders. She took to waving at everything, quite literally everything, and greeting it properly. After about the millionth “Hello there, tree!” Rian was seriously considering the consequences of eating a small mouthful of berries himself.

Finally, they made it. Deet quickly took to yelling hellos at everyone and marveling at the glass jars full of lightstinger bugs they occasionally used for light. Rian ushered her quickly into his cottage and locked the door behind them. He had to find a Dousan, because only a Dousan would properly know how long this kind of reaction would last. “Okay, Deet I’m going to go get you some food. So I need you to stay here, can you do that for me?” Deet started spinning around in his kitchen, singing again. “I’m taking that as a yes. Don’t open the door for anyone. Please.”

It didn’t take long to locate a Dousan gelfling. Much like the Grottan, they stood out. The gelfling was more than happy to follow him to his cottage and survey Deet’s condition. He was surprised to see how happy she was, still spinning in this kitchen. According to the Dousan, Deet had ingested three times the recommended amount, which meant that the effects would last a lot longer. However, there weren’t any adverse effects to taking too many berries. She might be a bit sore or confused when coming out, but that would be the worse of it. He also gave Rian a paper pouch containing a strange smelling powder. “It’s for tea, should make her come out of this quicker. We usually use it for if things turn bad.”

“Turn bad?”

“Rian, you really don’t want to know. For now, just focus on getting her to drink some tea. She’ll tire soon enough, no one can keep up this pace for very long after taking Urdroops.” The gelfling tried not to laugh. “I’m actually quite impressed. Though, I don’t personally approve you use this kind of thing for fun. They’re a bit sacred to us.” Rian hurriedly explained that Deet found them in the woods, how someone must have dropped them, and gave the gelfling the berries in his pocket. The gelfling was more than understanding and gave Rian the crash course of the century on how to take care of Deet like this. “I do hope that you can see someone use it properly someday, it’s a very good experience.”

“I think I’ll leave those experiences to you, thanks.”

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strawberryjmilk · 5 years

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angelic tendencies; devilish thoughts | kim taehyung

word count: 2558

contains bullying, swearing; mentions of nightmares! please note that i do not view any idol mentioned negatively ; this is purely made-up!

witch!taehyung, demon!reader, demon!wonwoo, werewolf!jungkook

recommended songs: devil by clc ; devilish by chase atlantic

A pillow hit your head softly, causing a groan to escape your lips. An answering groan - and, then, a body was on top of you. You only whined in protest as the body spoke. "Do you want to be late again, Y/N?"

"Maybe," you shrugged. Sitting up - only after your loving annoyance of a roommate got off of you - you began to stretch lightly. Wonwoo scrunched his nose, titling his head in question. Your response was a whisper, "if I'm late, he won't be waiting for me." That caused Wonwoo to stiffen immediately.

The he in question being Jeon Jungkook. Though they shared a last name, Jungkook and Wonwoo couldn't be more different. At Reign Academy, only supernatural species were allowed to roam through the halls and attend the classes. Some creatures felt like they were superior - werewolves being the most arrogant of the batch. And, Jeon Jungkook wasn't different from his fellow wolves. He adored looking down on others - especially demons, seeing as there were only two at the Academy.

And they were both sitting in that exact room.

"Y/N," Wonwoo let out a sigh. He deflated, his shoulder sinking as he looked at you. You wouldn't meet his gaze, though, looking at your fingers instead. "You can't let him get the best of you. Show him what a demon is like."

Your voice was still small, "I don't think I can."

Wonwoo only smiled, squeezing your shoulder lightly. "You'll find out how, in your own way."

—

"Well, well," you heard as you scurried to your next class. You winced, closing your eyes as someone brushed against your shoulder. "Our little Y/N is tired of hiding, huh?"

You smiled tightly, opening your eyes and turning to face him. "Jungkook - what a pleasure. I'm going to be late to spellcasting, so if you will-"

"What'd I tell you?" Jungkook asked with a snarl. He was looking at the blue haired boy beside him who - honestly - looked like he would rather be anywhere else. You and me both, buddy. "Says they're a demon but won't even take up for themselves. Is that why your entire clan is going extinct, Y/N? You're all cowards who don't live up to the demon name?"

You clenched your fist, feeling your eyes starting to dilate and change. "Seriously, I just need-"

"Oh, are you getting mad?" Jungkook grinned. He titled his head, poking your forehead harshly with each word. "Getting annoyed? Am I annoying you, Y/N? Your eyes are turning red you must be a little angry."

Your teeth were also clenched as you tried to hide the fangs that were starting to form. "Just leave me alone."

"Sure!" Jungkook cheered. He glanced back at his guest - blueberry was just buttoning the sleeves to his shirt nonchalantly. Jungkook rolled his eyes before focusing on you again. "Just come somewhere with me, yeah?"

"What the hell-" Jungkook didn't let you continue as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you away. You were heading outside, you realized, outside where the only witness to Jungkook's torment would be his berry-haired friend. You took a peek at him - his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and that made you feel a little better.

Suddenly, you were pushed through the entrance doors and you were freezing. Absolutely freezing, and all you could hear was Jungkook's cackle being mirrored by a few others as your teeth began to chatter. You just shut your eyes tightly and raced to the locker room where you knew you could get warm.

You stepped into the shower without taking off your clothes, turning the water until it was scalding. You couldn't really tell how hot it was - you could only see the endless amounts of steam that covered the entire locker room. You sighed in relief - that could've been a lot worse.

As a demon, it was essential that you stayed warm. Your entire species derived from Hell - a place that invented boiling lava and heat as a way of suffering. Being cold was fatal to you - so much so that snowy days were excused so you could stay in and stay safe. You didn't know Jungkook could be that cruel - didn't realize he wouldn't hesitate before trying to harm you in a deadly way.

A slam had you turning your head - a futile attempt as the locker room looked like a sauna now. You held your breath before losing it completely. Your once steaming water had turned to an icy waterfall. Frantically, you turned the shower off, stepping to the door carefully. Your breath hitched again - you tried to open the locker room door only to realize it was being kept shut by something. A giggle was heard - of course Jeon Jungkook was the one who did this.

The pipes in the room had burst then, icy water leaking onto the floor and surrounding your feet. The laughter outside grew louder as your trembling grew harsher. You could feel the effects of the cold already seeping into your being. Teeth chattering violently; fingers cramping and growing stiff; even your vision was growing hazy as the water continued to rise.

"Shit!" you hadn't even realized someone was in the room with you. Blinking slowly, you watched as the blue haired boy from before waved his hand, clearing the water away. His attention was on you then, seeing you pull yourself into a tighter ball as you leaned against a wall in fetal position. He raised his hand towards you, fingers alight with small flames.

You only basked in the warmth momentarily as he waved the flames near you. He was friends with Jungkook - he had to be playing a trick on you. Maybe he didn't know everything about demons. So, you spoke up. "If you're trying to roast me alive, it won't work. We're fireproof."

The boy's demeanor shifted as he sunk in on himself, shoulders slouching and worried face melting into one of disbelief. He looked almost disgusted by the thought of harming you. "I wouldn't— that wasn't—," he took a deep breath, "I'm not going to hurt you."

You only rolled your eyes - you'd heard that before.

—

"Do you get how worried I was when Sana ran up to me, freaking out and saying you were cold?" His voice spat before you could even get into the room. Wonwoo was furious - at your stupidity; everyone's lack of empathy; Jungkook's teasing. Your roommate took in a deep breath before gathering your still shivering form into his arms. "I'm so glad you're okay."

The silence in the room builds then, blanketing and soothing you as Wonwoo held you close. He let out a sigh, his breath brushing your forehead lightly. "This has gone too far," he spoke up. His grip tightened as if he was afraid you would slip away. "That brat deserves to find out what happens when you mess with a demon."

You only nudged yourself closer to him as ideas flooded in your mind.

—

The change was small. Nothing drastic had happened to you in a while - not since the water incident, actually. You were beginning to think an angel was watching over you - you snorted to yourself. Yeah, right.

Small jabs about your vanishing species would pop up sometimes, but nothing like it was before. It was odd - you felt almost safe at school. Most notably, Jungkook had left you alone. You only shared one class with him - defensive fighting - but, he usually made an effort to seek you out.

You wanted to ask what was going on, but you were starting to enjoy his absence.

A body bumped into you, causing you to drop the Dark Hexes and How to Conjure Them book you were holding. An arm shot down to grab the book before you could. Looking up, you spotted the blue-haired boy from a week before. He frowned at the book he was holding, "why do you have this?"

You stared at him blankly before blinking, allowing your red irises to show through. He smiled sheepishly, "right."

The silence that followed was awkward and stiff as the boy looked at you and you looked for the nearest exit. The classrooms around you were empty - it was break time now - and you didn't trust this boy's choice of friends. You didn't even know his name. He spoke up, "I'm sorry."

"Is that your name?" You asked sarcastically. You held out your hand, motioning for him to give your book back. You had extra credit you were pursuing, after all. He handed you the book, shaking his head slowly. "Well? What is it, then?"

"Taehyung," he said. His fingertips brushed against the palm of your hand as he placed the book softly. He glanced at you - his eyes flashed indigo, you swear they did. He cleared his throat, looking down again. "About Jungkook - I'm sorry. I actually think he feels really guilty about what he did."

"Oh?" you said, uninterested. You began to flip through the book, idly looking from page to page and waiting for the conversation to be over. You really didn't care enough about Jungkook to speak about him. "Why do you say that?"

Taehyung bit his lip, eyes flashing over you. The way you stood; the way your eyes skimmed the book; the pout you had as you read. He gulped - demon's were said to be very entrancing. "He's been having nightmares."

This made your eyes snap up to his. You raised your eyebrows curiously as Taehyung dropped his eyes again. He shook his head softly, turning to leave. "I'll see you around, Y/N."

You paused - how did he know your name?

—

A squeal left Jeon Jungkook's lips as he shut his locker door only to see you standing there. You merely blinked, gaze dead and unattached. The werewolf boy let out a large breath, holding his chest in shock. He scowled once he realized who was in front of him, "what do you want?"

You blinked again before reaching into your bag. Delicately, you pulled out a forest green dreamcatcher, holding it between your pointer finger and thumb. Your eyes met Jungkook's, "I heard you were having nightmares."

"And?" His nose was still scrunched but his stiffened shoulders were lowering slowly, growing less defensive. You looked him over, seeing how pale he'd grown and how sick he looked. Bags under his eyes and cheekbones starting to show - it's only been a week since he had ice water dumped on you.

You only shrugged, "and I know how bad they can get. So, here you go."

Jungkook seemed to relax completely, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. His voice was soft and almost broken as he spoke, "why? I was so mean to you—."

You smiled, "forgive and forget. Sweet dreams, Jungkook."

—

It wasn't working. Jungkook scowled at the dreamcatcher that was perched above his bed, cursing it for every piece of thread it contained. He sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. If he thought about it, his nightmares were only worsening after you gave him the gift. But he didn't want to think about it.

"It stinks in here," Sana said as she scrunched her nose. She fanned her hand around dramatically, waving it to-and-fro. There was a history assignment due, and they were chosen as partners. Jungkook only rolled his eyes at the fairy. "Seriously! Has Taehyung been messing with sage, or something? I didn't think witches did."

Jungkook pouted, shaking his head. Taehyung - who had been out getting a drink - walked in and looked between the two curiously. "Do you even use sage?"

"No," his response was automatic. The blue-haired boy looked at his roommate with wide eyes, shocked he would even mention the herb. "Witches - anyone with magical abilities, honestly - know to stay away from sage. It... burns."

Sana let in a gasp, her eyes set on a dark green object, hanging on the wall. She gulped, "who gave you that?"

"Why?" Jungkook asked, unable to see anything wrong with your gift. Except that it didn't work - he scowled again.

The pink-haired fairy let out another deep breath, "it radiates dark magic."

Taehyung was out of the room before anyone could blink.

—

You let out a breath, looking at your left hand with a frown. Your knuckles were stinging - small burns making the skin puckered and visibly irritated. You flexed your hand, hissing at the stinging sensation. Cold fingers encased yours suddenly, causing a gasp to emit from your throat. Taehyung grinned at you sheepishly before deciding to drag you to the infirmary.

He sat down on a stool, making you sit on the small cot the nurse had. He ran his thumb over your knuckles softly, watching as you winced. "How'd you even do this?"

You pursed your lips, looking at him from underneath your eyelashes. Taehyung had a teasing smile on his face - a joking, fun one; nothing like the harsh ones you were used to. Your response was mumbled, "holy water."

"Ah," Taehyung nodded. He applied a healing ointment gently, knowing the burns would leave small scars regardless. When he met your eyes, it happened again - his eyes flashed indigo. Taehyung licked his lips, dropping his gaze. "Want to tell me about your gift to Jungkook?"

You didn't even flinch, "if you tell me why your eyes change colors."

Taehyung seemed to freeze, his entire body going rigid. Slowly, he raised his head to look at you, his eyes allowing the dark hue to take over. "You've seen that?"

Nodding, your eyes stayed glued to his, watching as his eyes flickered from indigo to their usual brown. Taehyung blinked before leaning back, an exasperated laugh escaping his mouth and leaving a smirk. "Unbelievable. No one else has noticed yet."

"Maybe they're not paying attention," you shrugged. You leaned closer, watching as they flashed again. "Witches don't have purple or blue eyes - they're always green."

Taehyung tilted his head, "mind reading - witches don't usually do that, either."

You hummed, nodding slowly as you accepted this fact. If he could read minds, why did he ask about the dreamcatcher? He had to know of your intentions. Taehyung's eyes flashed as he quirked up an eyebrow, "anything you wish to confess? Night terrors don't seem like your thing."

"You don't know me. I can be evil," you grinned, allowing your eyes to turn red. "And you don't get to tell me what my thing is."

"At least help him," Taehyung said. He stared at you, ignoring the coloring of your eyes and the flickering of his. He licked his lips again, "take them away."

Your grin turned darker, fangs elongating as poison leaked from your lips. Your eyes grew brighter as Taehyung gaped at you in confusion. "And why would I do that? He's only getting what he deserves."

Taehyung jerked back at your answer. His voice was pleading and confused, "Y/N..."

"I'll say it again," you sat up straighter, clearing your throat. You watched as Taehyung's eyes danced between two colors again. "I'm a demon, Taehyung. I'm only showing him how we act - proving the rumors about us are true. That's what he wanted, after all."

The blueberry boy could only stare at you in silence.

happy halloween! took a small break from honeydews bc i really wanted to write for halloween again ))^: i hope i didnt disappoint! thank you for reading! ♡

#kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung AU #kim taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung one shot #witch!taehyung #bts au #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts oneshot #werewolf!jungkook #demon!reader #kpop au #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshot #bts halloween

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lifeofclonewars · 4 years

Text

Dives, Hecko, and Vex

Read it on AO3 Here

I already posted the link to this and decided, hey, why not post the whole thing on here as well? Enjoy!

Summary: "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

To his right, his ARC troopers walked, where he could keep an eye on them. Not that he didn’t trust Fives and Echo. It was just— Well, to put it simply, they were bored, and when the duo got bored they tended to do...interesting things to cure it.

So far, the two had twirled every time they saw one of the native avian species, attempted to parkour their way over sections of the underbrush, attempted to find a certain amount of whatever they picked to spell out their own and other members of Torrent Company’s CT numbers, attempted to make up songs about anything and everything, and probably a few other things Rex hadn’t caught.

Currently, they had taken to playing catch with a giant stick Fives had come across on their last break.At least they hadn’t resorted to stepping in each puddle they came across. Yet.

In which Fives goes for a dive, Echo joins the "HECK" squad, and Rex is vexed by Torrent Company.

-----

The air was hot and humid, even through helmet filtering. Everywhere was green and brown, from the mud and bushes afoot to the animals in the trees above. The 501st was easily picked out from their surroundings, the blue and white of their armor showing what the leaf coverage could not. Sunshine filtered through the abundant trees, somehow adding to the heat even through layers of leaves and branches. Looking up, the clouds weren’t visible due to said layers, but surely they were there. It had rained the night before, ending just as they started marching again and, if the smell of ozone said anything, they would be expecting more rain sooner rather than later.

The 501st was on yet another campaign, marching their way through an endless forest, trying to cut off another faction of droids. Five days ago had been the first battle, two days ago a second. They still had yet to encounter Grievous but, with their luck, they’d run into him at this next one. Either way, it was due to happen.

Mixed in with the underbrush and mud was a collection of groundwater. Spread across the landscape at odd intervals, lakes, ponds, and brooks glistened in the sunlight. Some appeared rather large, though whether that was from rain overflow or not was unclear. In addition to these, puddles were strewed across the path, making for even more mud and unclean boots.

Already, the legion had marched klicks on klicks, minimal stops for rest being taken. They’d started at the break of dawn and, while the sun wasn’t visible, it surely had to be high in the sky by then.

Rex walked along with Torrent Company, leading the way and following the path the scouts had taken. Chatter among the troopers ebbed and flowed amongst the clusters. While they had started out marching in lines, the further they got, the more relaxed the lines became. The droids were approximately a full day out, so he allowed it for the boost of morale it brought.

“Where’s the General, again?” someone behind him asked.

Rex sighed. “He and the Commander are further back in the troops to check supplies among other things, just like the first few times it was mentioned.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

At least they hadn’t resorted to stepping in each puddle they came across. Yet.

Rex took a deep breath, hoping Kix was close enough if their shenanigans nosedived, literally or figuratively. Force knew it was bound to happen soon.

Almost as if on cue, the stick broke. “Aw, man,” came two disappointed grumbles.

“Wait.” Leave it to Fives to figure something else out. “No, this is still good. We can work on our reflexes better since there’s two of them to catch and throw now.”

“Ah, yes,” Echo agreed. “This is a great way to train and make sure we’re still qualified to be ARC Troopers.”

Rex decided to continue to ignore them as best he could. If he didn’t see it, he didn’t have to deal with it. Even if he was their ori’vod and CO. He’d only get involved when Kix needed to as well.

The further they walked, the more ways Echo and Fives came up to toss the sticks. Both at once. Each tossing one at the same time. Front to back, back to front. In the middle of their twirls. Great. Now they were mixing in all the previous things they’d done with the two sticks. Try as he might, they were hard to ignore.

Rex’s comm beeped. Preparing for whatever news the scouts brought, he paused, then answered. “This is Captain Rex.”

“Captain, this is Zeck. You’ve got incoming. We’re not entirely sure what it is, just that it’s expected to land about where you will be when it does land in about 10 minutes.”

Rex’s eyebrows furrowed. “Is it from the Seppies?”

“We can’t tell, sir,” Zeck replied.

“And why is that?” A pain behind his temple made itself present; Rex needed a nap. Or some caf. Maybe a stim. The stim was more accessible with all the walking they were doing.

Zeck hesitated, a squawk of something from his comm filtering through. Rex couldn’t tell if it came from a vod or not. “It’s moving too fast for us to be able to tell, sir. We were barely able to calculate it’s landing zone, and, given how far behind us the legion is and how fast you are moving, it should land near you. Sorry, sir.”

Another deep breath. “Alright, I’ll make sure we keep an eye open. I’m guessing you guys are far enough out now to start to look for a resting spot for the night.”

“Yes, sir.” The comm turned off after the affirmation.

Sure enough, 8 minutes later, a soft whirring slowly faded in, scarcely heard over the footsteps and rustling. Within a minute, it was loud enough to cut off some conversations and draw attention.

Soon enough, it broke the treeline. The opening made from it brought more sunlight through, brightening a section of the forest floor more. With the aid of his rangefinder, the captain was able to finally identify the object.

It was a kriffing lightsaber. More accurately, Skywalker’s kriffing lightsaber.

Zeck had been right; the lightsaber plunged into a lake just to the right of where the troops began to pass.

“I got it!”

In an instant, Fives was gone, a splash of water the only mark of where he’d disappeared. Rex stopped walking, offhandedly noticing some of the men around him also halting. Fives could swim, so, as long as he popped up soon, nobody would need to follow him. While they waited, a gentle breeze floated through, rustling the leaves ever so slightly.

Another splash and Fives surfaced. “See? I got it!” he exclaimed, waving his hand, now occupied by the saber.

Fives pulled himself out of the water, armor now dripping. He was lucky he himself wouldn’t get wet but slippery armor was not ideal, battlefield or not.

“What the heck, Fives!” Echo exclaimed, grabbing his fellow ARC by the shoulders. A flash of Cody saying the same thing back to him on Rishi crossed Rex’s mind. A sigh escaped him before he could stop it.

Fives glanced behind Echo and Rex could feel the smirk through their buckets. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’m fine. Plus, I was able to grab the General’s saber.

Rex just shook his head. “Jus’ keep walking and don’t slip.”

“Mmh, but this is Fives, sir,” Echo stated, giving Fives a nudge so they could continue to walk together. “I’m not sure if he’s ever been capable of that.”

Fives snorted. “Excuse you, I’m very capable of not slippi—” Down he went, wet shoe having connected with some mud. “I stand corrected.”

Echo put his hands on his hips, standing over the other ARC. “Hurry up and stand up, that’d be great, thanks.”

Fives pulled himself up, seeing as Echo’s hands stayed resolutely on his hips and not offered to him. “Great, now I have mud all over my armor,” he complained, unsuccessfully trying to wipe mud clumps off his chest plate. All it did was transfer the clumps to his glove and smear what didn’t transfer across his chest.

“That’s what you get for jumping into a lake,” Rex remarked.

“I’m gonna have to clean it off. Ewwww.” Fives’ face wasn’t visible but Rex could tell his nose was likely scrunched up, brushing off his comment.

It was times like these that Rex questioned why he decided to train ARC Troopers. Granted, tomorrow Echo and Fives were probably going to pull off something to remind him. But at the moment—

His comm beeped; it was one of the scouts, but noticeably not Zeck this time. He flicked it on.

“Captain, we found a good place to stop for the night.”

“And?” he prompted, feeling there had to be something else.

“Uh, sir, well... How do I put this? Zeck got stuck in a tree, Focus is stuck waist-deep in some mud, and also, I think there are some angry locals on the horizon.”

The first half of this campaign had felt long. If today proved anything, it was that the second half was going to be just as long, if not longer. Rex couldn’t wait to get back on the Resolute and just take a nap. But first, he needed to deal with his scouts, get the laser sword back from Fives and to Skywalker, and make sure he didn’t jump into any more lakes. Unfortunately, the former two were far easier than the latter.

Yeah, he needed a nap.

Thank you for reading!

#b writes #pun wars #star wars #captain rex #fives #echo #clone wars #sw: tcw #star wars the clone wars #star wars clone wars #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #domino twins

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askthiscpblog · 4 years

Note

More Jane and imani??? Maybe some fluffy stuff? Thank you!

Jane decided it would be best to take a day for herself. Something she didn’t do often, but it was needed being one of only a handful of females in the house. Plus, it made her feel better about her situation. So today she decided to head to the aquarium, to look at all of the pretty fish and sea creatures they had to offer. It was often that she remembered how she wanted to be a marine biologist when she was younger, before the incident and everything. This place brought her to a time before that, which gave her a bittersweet feeling always. Now, she didn’t even get a chance to finish middle school before this, much less go to college.

Imani had the pads of her fingers pressed against the cold glass, imagining the pressure of the water breaking the glass and sweeping her away with it. Aquariums were the only place she could go that brought her real joy. As a small child, she had always enjoyed the water, the ways it can be fierce and calm. It will kill you in a peaceful way if you let it. It was mystifying to her. She had never wanted to work with water and the creatures though, instead, she turned to the stars. Now she couldn’t even look at the planets without being reminded what he had done to her. So she turned to the depths of the ocean, comforting and beautiful. She could be herself among the fish. Standing in a glass tube with fish above and around her she wasn’t worried about her ego, her pride, her mission, her looks. She was just a woman standing in an aquarium, her hijab wrapped tight and her hand up against the cold glass. She blinked as she heard footsteps entering and glanced over at the entrance to see who was coming into what she considered her space. She had already sent three children screaming with the sight of her mauled face, what was another?

Jane’s heels clacked against the hard floor of the ground, a rhythm popping up if anyone who listened close enough. She had her mask on, but it was molded to her face with the magic she used, people thought it was her real face. It was amazing how much a little bit of glamor magic can do for a woman, especially one with a burned face.Jane strode into the chamber, the blue light filtering onto her as if anyone gazing upon her was looking through a sapphire. Her wig fell in waves around her shoulders, a high turtleneck covering her as the dress ended at the middle of her thigh. The long sleeves were ruffled, allowing free movement. The clacking of heels came from elegant over the knee boots, simple but adds a touch of flair to the outfit. She didn’t pay attention to anyone else in the room, her dark eyes transfixed on the water and the animals within.

Imani’s eyesight was shit at best in the blue lighting, but she could make out the shape of a woman, one still very small in comparison to her. She mumbled curses under her breath, if the vibes she got were right this woman wouldn’t hurry out with a look at Imani’s face and a flash of her teeth. She let her hand fall from the aquarium wall, stepping back from it and looking over at the woman briefly, assessing her. Long hair, gothic outfit, a stellar sense of fashion. Her whole vibe was much more put together than Imani’s. She didn’t feel the need to let people other than her clients and potential clients see her assets. She had tossed on a simple white t-shirt, a leather jacket, and striped pants. Nothing to attract attention more than she already did. As she processed everything her brain was telling her she swore she had been around this woman before, but it just wasn’t coming to her. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jane watched the passing fish with a sense of amazement and wonder. It brought her back to simpler times when her parents would take her to aquariums like this, only to have her shout with laughter when she tried to pet stingrays only to have them splash her. How she looked at sharks, the funny ones with the long saw nose, and the massive great white ones too that could eat her whole! Memories flooded back of simpler and happier times, all the while making her chest ache and bubble with anger. Looking to the next side she heard a woman talk to her, glancing to see a tall figure in simple cloths walking towards her. Jane didn’t need to get defensive, it was too the public to do anything despite the dimly lit room. Also cameras. “It is, and how graceful everything looks while swimming. Even the clumsy fish seem to have a wonderful time,” she responded, pointing to the fish hiding under the sand waiting for prey.

“If anything, the clumsy ones seem to be having the most fun.” It then hit her as to why this woman seemed so familiar. That voice, that aura of glamor and elegance. “My, my my. If I knew I’d run into you again I would have put on something much more flattering. I do believe a wig was promised.” Imani dipped her head to the woman, still not looking at her directly, an eye trained on a particularly stunning fish passing by the glass. “It’s very nice to see you again Miss. Jane. I must say, the lighting does your beauty no justice.”

“Flattering doesn’t mean anything to me. If you were to see me fully without my mask on in my robes, you would not find me quite so appealing.” Jane responded, turning to face Imani. She was more formal than last time, but casual none the less. “And I agree, the one who is clumsy is having the most fun. But isn’t that how everything is?” Jane looked at the fish passing by the glass, a brightly colored specimen that seemed to take an interest in the two females.

“I know for a fact I’d find you incredibly appealing. After all, I see much worse than you when I look into the mirror, and I still find myself attractive.” She cast a glance at Jane, smiling. She was glad for many things, the comfort of her hijab, her skin tone, the lighting. Because if none of these factors were there Jane and anyone else would’ve seen a blush spreading across Imani’s entire face as she thought about Jane in just her robes. At this moment she was certainly one of the clumsy fish. “It is how everything is… I wish I could be as carefree as the fish.” She instinctively waved a tiny bit at the fish that stopped to stare at her and Jane as she would at a small child. A mother’s instinct she supposed. Small things she could crush but wouldn’t dare always brought that out of her. She finally turned to face Jane fully, “You do look lovely. You’re a sight for sore eyes. Well,” she chuckled, “Eye.”

Jane couldn’t help but chuckle at this, the eye pun that Imani gave. Not intending to be rude, but give a nice flirtatious air around the two of them. She walked around the taller woman, her heels clicking against the floor as she stood on the other side of her to get a different view of the water before her. “As are you, I enjoy the casual look on you if I’m to be frank. We both know attractiveness comes from confidence, not from true looks. But, that doesn’t mean looks don’t matter when it comes to the games you and I play.” Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she looked from the fish directly to Imani now. A playful grin played upon her black lips. “Shall we head to a different part of the aquarium? Or maybe even the top and feed the fishes ourselves?”

Imani smiled wide, a dull pain spreading across the right side of her face from the action. She knew where she wanted to take Jane. Was it risky? Absolutely. But in her opinion, it was the most beautiful part of the aquarium. “Follow me.” She turned on her heels, walking out of the cold glass tube and into the next room, past the other displays, and to the very back. There was a bench, and she sat down, patting the seat next to her. In front of them were a seemingly infinite amount of coral. “My daughter always insisted on coming to this part of the aquarium. Isn’t it beautiful?” Imani knew it was a risk telling Jane about her personal life, but Seven was due to move states anyway. And she had a good feeling about Jane. She was willing to be vulnerable with her.

Jane watched her, giving a grin back with her black lips as she followed the taller woman to the back of a different room. She sat on the bench next to her, seeing the coral reefs splayed out ahead of her like an endless forest of stone and life. If kelp was the forests of the ocean, then corals were their rocky cousins that kept more life. Parrotfish could be seen eating some of the coral, as they were supposed to do to keep it healthy. Bright green ones, others with red underbellies, beautiful colors.“Well, your daughter has good taste. Got it from you. It is beautiful.” Her black eyes watched the different corals, the colors and how many shapes they made. “Coral is underrated if I’m to be honest. It is a city of life, everyone living together. Not in peace, but living.”

Imani nodded her head, mesmerized by the colors that the coral gave off. Constant movement, constant changes. She could almost feel Seven’s tiny hand clasped in her own. “Coral build cities for fish, living cities. How cool is that? I’d pay to be a fish living amongst the coral.” She ripped her gaze away from the coral to look at Jane. At each angle, she swore Jane just got more and more gorgeous. It took her breath away more than the coral did. Damn, she was feeling gay today. “Most people pay for my company, as you know. But I have to say, I’ve never been so glad to be talking to someone and not making money while doing so.”

“Glad to be one of the few lucky individuals then. You’re quite a catch, Imani.” Jane looked over to her with her black eyes before making the motion of the fishing pole to the coral. Even made the reeling in motion as if she caught her. “Being a living fish among coral would be nice, but to simple. Granted our lives can be broken down that way if you think about it. Survive, eat, kill, repeat. Not in that order, and not everyone is that way. But I am sure we both are very aware of that.” Jane leaned back on the bench, crossing her legs to show off just enough thigh meat to get the mind wondering. She wasn’t trying to seduce the other woman, but flirting was fun if done well subtly.

Imani laughed at Jane’s silly motion. She wasn’t accustomed to being called a catch by any means, but she did like it. She nodded at Jane’s comment about their lives being simple if broken down. It was true. Imani lived to fuck, kill, get paid, and do it all over again. It was comforting in away. She noticed Jane cross her legs, and could feel the heat rise to her cheeks again. For god’s sake, she was a sex worker, she saw so much more than a little bit of thigh on a daily basis. But when it came to Jane’s little bit of thigh showing apparently her intelligence just went out the window. Not only did it go out the window, but it also left earth altogether. She looked at Jane intently, “You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. And I have seen it… lots.” She snapped out of her mindless moment, looking straight at the coral, intending to pretend like she did not just let down her guard in time for the gay in her to jump out.

“Now now Imani, your gay is showing.” Jane taunted, standing up to wonder over to get a better look at the coral. “To be honest, if I didn’t know any better this would be a date. Not that I would mind since we are both in a similar business after all.” She bent down to pull up her dress on her left just a bit, to show the gleam of a point of something sharp on her leg. Interesting to say the least, how she got it past security to the place and all. Her silhouette was more pronounced, like a classic shadow pinup. A wink and a shooshing finger to Imani later, she was back sitting next to the other killer.

Imani nearly yelped at Jane’s comment about it nearly being a date. Not that she would mind. She hadn’t been on a date she wasn’t being paid to go on in over four years. It all seemed like a dream, but the lack of car tires constantly screeching told Imani this was very real. “It seems we are in a similar business…” She grinned at the sight of the knife attached to Jane’s leg and stuck out her heel. pointing to the sharp stiletto. “I had these custom made. Stainless steel tip, sharp enough to go through a man’s eye and out the other side.” Not to mention the small throwing knife she had on the side of her bra, pressed up against her skin. “I haven’t been on a real date in…four years. I wouldn’t exactly mind if this were my first one since then.” She met Jane’s eyes and smiled, lopsided because she could barely move half of her face. A real smile from her was rare, but Jane deserved it. “You’re different than any other woman who has gotten my attention, Miss Jane. I’d be honored if you’d consider making this trip into a date with me.”

“Then shall we also go grab lunch?” Jane asked, looking to her and holding out a gloved hand. Her gloves didn’t go far back, due to her long-sleeved dress and turtle neck, but very little skin shown still as she stood up still keeping her hand out. “I’ll buy, no worries. Even can get the special place where we eat by the fish, and even feed the fishes too.” It was a wonderful time to see Imani again, but surprising to Jane how well this woman can get around. She didn’t have any special traveling abilities like herself, but it was concerning. Jane hoped that it wouldn’t draw too much attention to her by doing this. Even so, she knew Imani could handle herself.

#Anonymous #jane the killer #Imani #creepy pasta #creepypasta #ask creepypasta #creepypasta oc #creepypasta ocs #fanfiction #fanfic #fanficiton #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction

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danbensen · 4 years

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August-2030

The sun is hot on my back, and my thighs burn with the effort of holding this position. My back doesn’t hurt, though. Those stretches work.

My face is full of leaves. They come in triplets, saw-edged, each the size of the space between my thumb and forefinger. Hard, unripe berries tap against my glasses. Somewhere too close, a yellow-jacket buzzes.

I put one hand down and reach with the other into the shadows, scattering leaf-hoppers. The sweat sticks to the inside of the glove as I squeeze the handles of the garden sheers. A growing resistance, then a dull snap, and a brown, prickly cane shudders behind the leaves.

The dead cane tears away from the bush like velcro, exposing a patch of soil, the wall of my parents’ house, and a small volume of empty space, dangling with raspberries.

I grab one and put it in my mouth. It tastes like the dirt and leather on my glove, ash from the recent forest fires, and decades of piled summers.

Raspberry canes take a year to grow up from the root, another to produce fruit, and then they die in the third. My job is to clear out the dead canes of last year to make room for next year’s shoots. I’m also exposing more of this year’s berries to my daughters and their cousins.

I wanted to do this in my garden, which is just old enough to have its own raspberries. They’re planted in rows away from the house, just the way my grandpa had them. And I have already done the chore of cutting out that patch’s first crop of dead canes. But my kids were firm: if we were going relive someone’s childhood today, it would be theirs.

I decide that my back is hurting after all and slowly stand.

My parents’ garden hasn’t changed much since Julia was a nine months old and pooping in the wading pool. The lilacs have grown thicker, the apple tree has died. The bird bath is now at our summer house three valleys south of here. Julia manipulated my parents into giving it to her.

But there’s still the enormous rhubarb plant next to the compost. To the east, beyond the rhubarb, the hill slopes down to the Interstate, the web of aerial traffic, and the houses, condos, restaurants, business incubators, network hubs, and micro-factories of Lolo, Montana.

Julia and Mikhaela move through the garden like a hummingbird and a lawnmower, respectively, with the other teenagers strung between them. Some are talking or doing incomprehensible things with their key-rings and charm-bracelets, but an impressive amount of berry-picking is still getting done. Mikhaela said she wanted to make a pie for the party, and they already have enough for two.

I glance to my right, where my younger daughter is methodically mowing her way down the raspberries. I can’t tell whether she’s listening to an audiobook or sharing her POV with some other kid in Saudi Arabia or just thinking her thoughts.

I remember my grandpa when he drove me home from the airport one summer. I had wanted to read a fantasy book, but he wouldn’t let me. He kept me talking that whole drive.

“What did you learn in drama camp today?” I ask her.

“Diegesis,” she says.

There’s a conversation starter! But my attempt at a follow-up question is interrupted by a delivery drone descending onto our lawn. Its brown plastic carapace is emblazoned with the logo of the nearest hub, which means only that this isn’t a delivery from a Lolo caterer or micro-factory. The kids could have ordered something from Seattle or New Zealand, and it would still get routed through the local hub. My guess, though, is that it comes from Sofia, Bulgaria.

“What did you forget to pack, Yooli?” I shout at my older daughter, Julia, as she runs toward the drone, waving her wallet-key.

Last summer, Julia packed almost nothing for our trip to the US. She told us she thought it would be easier to just mail herself stuff when she remembered she needed it. When we saw the international shipping bill, we got her her own bank account and wallet-key, which might have been the whole point of the exercise.

The drone sees her key, releases the box it was clutching, and zips back into the smoky air to join the sky-traffic.

“I didn’t forget anything.” Julia shakes her hair out of her face and lets go of her key-ring, which zips back to her belt on its recoil line. The belt is bright pink, with green and blue Kazakh embroidery patterns. Each key on the ring is a different color and pattern, for a different digital purpose. “This is for our party.”

She pulls open the self-storage box, revealing an irregularly-shaped pink crystal the size of a melon. It’s a salt-lamp.

Generational cycles are funny things. Growing up means doing whatever your parents didn’t do, but we all have a soft spot for our grandparents. I want to be firm and practical like my grandpa, Mikhaela wants to be strong-minded like my mom. My older daughter Julia, for her part, cultivates a free romantic spirit like my mother-in-law. This, for me, is an endless opportunity for spiritual growth.

“Your salt-lamp.” I repeat. “Why do you need a salt-lamp for a party? Why do you need your salt lamp? You could have ordered a brand new one and it would have been a lot cheaper.”

I know what she’ll say next: “it’s my money. You‘re the one who told me to get a job and now I have eighty.” I open my mouth to tell her that she still ought to save her money for something important. And what is it exactly that she’s doing in these eighty jobs anyway?

But Julia hoists the salt-lamp and says, “it has to be this one. My friends and I licked it into just the right shape.”

I have no idea how to respond to that. I close my mouth and process data while my daughter skips away, tongue-sculpted lamp cradled in her arms. I’ve been out-maneuvered again.

I strip off my gloves and hat and go to find my wife.

Pavlina is on the balcony, sipping chilled white wine with her brother and sister-in-law. They’ve lived in California since the early 2010s, and in some ways they’re more American than me.

“I need to go to the teenager party,” I tell Pavlina.

“Zashto? Ti li si tineidjar?” Why? Are you a teenager?

Pavlina’s brother lifts a bottle of beer in my direction. “Ne trevozhi, bre. Veche si imam pushkata.” This is an in-joke.

According to Bulgarian tradition, Julia’s and Mikhaela’s first teenager party means we adults are all exiled here, to my parents’ house. We’re supposed to have a party, too, but I suspect it will be more like a military command center. Lots of tense pacing while we try to imagine what chaos is unfolding on the front lines.

“What are you talking about?” My dad appears from the kitchen with a tray of cheese and the tactical situation becomes more complicated. Neither of my parents approve of the teenager party, and we’ve been tip-toeing around the topic all week.

“We could be in the attic,” I tell Pavlina. “Or the basement.”

“That is where I’ll lock you when you go insane, yes,” she says.

Pavlina’s brother cackles and my dad says “What?” in a tone that means “I am playing the doddering cyborg grandpa, but I really am angry that you’re talking over my head.”

“It’s the teenager party.” I look out over the balcony, where our kids are doing incomprehensible and scary things in the yard below us. “I mean, what if something happens?”

My dad doesn’t say, “exactly! We have to cancel this whole barbaric ritual.” He says, “I’m worried too.”

“Yooli and Mishi will take care of it,” Pavlina says. “That’s what they’re learning to do.”

“What if someone brings dope?”

“They’ll tell him to smoke it outside.”

I check to make sure my mom isn’t in earshot. “What if things get…physical?”

“Zdravko and Boris are big. They’ll beat him up.” These are Julia and Mikhaela’s cousins, who seem to be engaged in some a virtual sword-fight right now. Mikahela is directing it.

“Now you say, ‘there can be only one sun, one moon, and one great khan!'”

I look around for support, but even my dad is nodding. “You don’t need to worry about boys,” he says.

I pick up a piece of cheese. “Well, at least I got them to pick raspberries with me. Mishi’ll make a pie.”

Pavlina looks serenely out at the Sapphire Mountains. “Sore wa kokuteiru no tame da to itta yo.”

‘She told me they were for cocktails,’ in Japanese, a language which nobody within earshot speaks but me and my wife.

I try to slow my breathing.

It isn’t just the underage drinking. It’s the social situation. My kids keeping secrets from me. Me keeping secrets from my dad. I reach down inside of myself for that still, small, voice. It says “be honest.”

“Mikhaela is making cocktails?” I say.

Everyone stiffens.

The US and Bulgaria have very different ideas about what constitutes proper behavior for teenagers and police officers. My dad, brother-in-law, and sister-in-law now all agree that the teenager party is a terrible idea.

Pavlina, meanwhile, looks steadily at me, letting me know that I have now become her opportunity for spiritual growth.

I put my cheese down on the balcony railing. “I’m just worried. Our kids are going to be alone in the summer house, which we just finished. They’re going to be drinking and smoking and licking salt-lamps.”

“Huh?” says my brother in law.

“What’s going to happen? What are we going to do when something does happen?”

“You’ll deal with it.” Pavlina declares, standing. “Nali si moyat mesten vodach?” Aren’t you my native guide? Another in-joke.

She pats me on the shoulder. “In the mean time, meditate on trusting your children, or at least trusting God to watch over them.”

“The God of fools and children,” I mutter. But that still, small voice speaks to me. “Go pick some more raspberries,” it says.

#mystuff #writing #aspirational fiction #science fiction #short story

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96percentdone · 5 years

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The Moonlit Prince and the Lying Thief (Part 4)

@oumasaiweek I’m a day late I’m so sorry! I couldn’t finish this chapter on time yesterday I got burnt out and it hit like 3am and I was dying inside. I’ll try my best to keep the daily schedule from here on out though!

But Happy birthday Ouma! This is the fourth entry in a series. If you’re interested, go on my blog and check the tag v3 tangled AU. Thanks!

“I have so many regrets,” Shuuichi groans, voice muffled. His face is starting to hurt a little from the way he flopped right on top of a hedge, leaves and twigs poking and digging into his cheeks, but the darkness the bush provides matches his emotional state, so he stays. If Tsumugi ever found out about this she would be so hurt. He’d never earn her trust back. She’d probably punish him for years, and he’d deserve it. “Why did I do this.”

“Beats me.” Doukeshi leans on a nearby tree, tossing a grey stone up and down. At this rate this side-quest of his will be over sooner than he thought. “Guess you can’t handle this after all, huh?”

“I can do it!” Shuuichi jumps back up, determination in his stance. “It’ll be fine! She’ll just never find out!”

“She?”

“My aunt.” And with that Shuuichi whines again, and falls back to sitting on the floor. “She’ll totally find out…” He’s in so much trouble if he does this. If he goes back right now, he can probably dodge it, right? He’ll tell her he jumped out the window, regretted it, and ran right back in. Does he leave the thief part in?

“You could just lie.” Doukeshi points out. Lying has gotten him out of so many conundrums. There seems to be just a whole lot of backstory here, and while he’s curious, he’s not planning on diving into it. He just wants to get this over with as soon as possible, so he can go home.

“I can’t just lie to her! She’d find me out, and it’d be wrong.” Never mind that Shuuichi is a poor liar, but to betray and then deceive her? No, absolutely not. He needs to just tell the truth, and go back, and this whole thing was a mistake. “I’m going back.”

“Suit yourself.” Doukeshi keeps tossing that rock, staring blankly up at the sky. “Toss me my satchel while you’re up there, will ya?”

“No!” At that, Shuuichi bolts up, and starts marching away from the tower. “We’re not doing that. I’m—I’m going to see those lanterns. You’re not getting out of it that easily.”

“Okay~” Tossing the rock aside, Doukeshi strolls along behind him. He doesn’t point out that this is the wrong direction, just watches as Shuuichi walks several more feet and abruptly stopping.

“I don’t know which way we’re supposed to go,” Shuuichi says, and Doukeshi can’t stifle his snorting, which earns him an embarrassed glare. “Very funny. Lead the way.”

“As you wish, detective-chan.”

They don’t get very far, maybe another few feet, before something rustles nearby. “What was that?” Shuuichi asks, eyes darting around before landing on the bush up ahead.

“I dunno.” Doukeshi shrugs. “Bandits?”

“Bandits?!” The rustling continues. Frying pan armed in sweaty hands, he freezes, eyes glued to the bush.

“Thugs?” Realizing that Shuuichi stopped moving, Doukeshi turns around.

“Thugs?!” Shuuichi takes a small step backward, eyes never leaving the bush.

“Axe murderers?”

“Mur—murderers?”

Something jumps out of the bush, and Shuuichi finds himself hovering behind the thief. After a few seconds, he peers over Doukeshi’s smaller, vest clad shoulder, to see—“It’s just a rabbit.” Small, and furry, and brown. Oh. That…that’s perfectly normal and harmless. He puts the frying pan away.

“You do know we’re outside, right?” Doukeshi asks, glancing behind him, and they both resume walking. “Maybe you can’t handle this.”

“I’ll be fine!” Of course, he knows that. He knows about animals too, but there’s so many other things out here besides just those. Even so, “It was just because you scared me.”

“Nishishi~ Sorry! I can’t help myself!” So Shuuichi is easily scared, huh? Maybe that works in his favor. They only just started but it might be time for a small detour. “Hey, you hungry? Cause I seriously need something to eat!”

“Um, sure.” Beyond the cave, there’s a seemingly endless array of trees. Every tree passed takes Shuuichi one step closer to his dream.

Tsumugi stops in her tracks, scanning the forest for the seventh time in the past half hour. There’s something off about these woods. She’s never been truly alone here—there’s that tavern on the way to town, and there’s always been the occasional child playing dangerous games—but there’s too many people out today. What happened?

The sound of hooves galloping across dirt approaches from behind, and on instinct she hides behind a large maple tree. Citizen? Or worse? A black mare flies past her. Tsumugi only manages to get a brief glimpse at the woman riding it, but the shining chestplate tells all. “No.”

What is a royal guard doing out this deep in her woods? The crown was stolen by someone, but if they’re this far in, they might find him! The trees blur together as she tears through the woods, knocking aside any stray branches or vines in her way. She has to go back. She has to go back!

There it is. The tower. “Shuuichi?” No response. “Shuuichi, let down your hair!” Still nothing. Where is he? Did they find him? She needs to get inside now. Wrenching away at the stones that make up the backside of the tower reveals a hidden stairwell. As soon as there’s enough space for her to crawl through, she does, sprinting up the stairs.

But there’s no one in the main room. “Shuuichi?” And there’s no one in his room. “This just plain isn’t funny!” And there’s no one in her room. No matter where she looks, there’s no sign of silver anywhere in the dark tower. She’s alone.

The noon sun shines through the window, and something shimmers under the stairs to her missing “nephew’s” room. What is that? Pulling the stair reveals a bag containing the stolen crown. But that’s not all. Slowly, Tsumugi pulls out a mask, black and red and resembling a joker’s hat. So Doukeshi took Shuuichi away.

Opening a nearby drawer reveals a glimmering dagger. She’ll find him. She’ll find them both.

“To your right, as previously stated, is more trees,” Shuuichi rolls his eyes as Doukeshi narrates their same-y surroundings. He’s been doing this for at least 20 minutes now, for reasons Shuuichi can’t understand. “But to your left is, voila!” With a grand gesture, the thief showcases a quiet trail that leads to a small building. “Our destination, Saishuu Tavern.”

“Final Tavern…?” What an ominous name. “What happened to the other taverns?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh?” What does he mean by that? Did something happen? What could have possibly—“Are you messing with me again?”

“Nishishi~ You make it so easy.” Doukeshi pushes and holds the door open as Shuuichi makes a whining noise in response. “After you.”

“Thank…you…” Shuuichi trails off upon seeing the interior of the pub. It’s…a lot to process. There’s a hodgepodge of stuff furnishing the somewhat-circular room. Some of it is innocent (a portrait or two, a piano), some of it is strange (the steering wheel of a boat, a racket), and some of it…terrifying. The array of knives and spears, a taxidermy deer head, a guillotine, and god there are just so many people. All their eyes are on him. Shuuichi freezes in place.

Except they’re not on him, but on the purple vested man behind him. “Doesn’t that gremlin by the door look familiar to anyone?” Miu wipes her messy blond hair away from her goggles and squints.

“Hmm…Tenko agrees, but she just can’t quite place it,” says Tenko, walking up past Shuuichi to Doukeshi. He’s just glad a woman that buff doesn’t have those threatening eyes on him.

“Who, me? Nah, I’m no one,” Doukeshi waves her off, strolling into the tavern without worry. He takes a seat in a nearby rickety wooden chair. “Sides I think my partner here is the weirder one.”

And everyone is staring at Shuuichi. This time for real. Nobody says anything, they just look dumbstruck at the sheer amount of hair. Until Rantarou pipes up, pressing a finger to his lips revealing the anchor tattoo running down the length of his arm. “No, I know who that is. That’s that thief. Doukeshi.”

“With the hair?” Miu shouts.

“He’s talking about the short one,” says Ryouma who isn’t much taller than the wooden table he’s standing around.

“You don’t get to call me short, dwarf-chan!” Doukeshi pouts, folding his arms and turning away. He looks like a petulant child when he does this, but despite this, is entirely unconcerned about being called out. He’s been in worse situations.

“Nyehh, shouldn’t someone get the guards then?” Himiko says, uncaring that her cape and hat are getting in the way of her attempt to nap on the table.

“It would seem like a logical source of progression,” says Kirumi from behind the bar. Without even looking, she catches the empty glass sliding back her way in her gloved hands.

“I’ll go get them! They should still be nearby!” Kiibo jumps up, one leg made of metal.

“Um—” Shuuichi starts, but the boy is already out the door. Great. He just got here, and he’s already going to lose his guide.

“Heyyy, barmaid-chan, can you get me the most disgustingly sweet drink you have?” Doukeshi waves his arm from his corner table, but she just ignores him. Even better: the thief doesn’t care at all.

“Um, Doukeshi-san, maybe we should—”

“Relaaaax, Detective-chan. I’m not getting caught. ‘Sides,” Doukeshi looks around the room with an easy-going grin, and Shuuichi is once again reminded of the weaponry on the wall. What kind of place is this? Is he in danger? “Don’t you wanna take in the experience? This is a five-star joint!”

“Actually, I think I really don’t—”

“Excuse me,” blue eyes bore directly into Shuuichi’s own, cutting off his line of thought, “but Angie was wondering why you’re with a wanted thief?”

“Gonta wants to know that too.” Lumbering over from the back, Gonta stares curiously at Shuuichi’s hair. “Also, why do you have so much hair?”

“Is it not possible that this menace is one of the accomplices to the crime?” Tenko says.

Ryouma scans Shuuichi briefly, and says, “Doesn’t seem practical with this much hair.”

“Obviously it’s a fuckin’ wig,” Miu says. “They’re both just trying shitty disguises.”

“They definitely don’t make wigs that long…” Himiko mumbles.

“Even if they did, I heard there were two accomplices,” Rantarou says.

The debate goes on around Shuuichi, with numerous voices piping in with their theories or suspicions. He wants to take Doukeshi and leave, but the thief shows no sign of leaving, kicking his feet back on the table and even egging them on. Not helping! The room is stifling. It’s so hard to breathe. Why did he leave the tower? He wants to go home. This was a mistake. There are so many people, and they’re all getting closer, and arguing, and arguing, about him, and Doukeshi, and his hair, and him and him and him—

“Hey guys, maybe we should let him talk,” Kaede says. She gets up from her seat at the piano, and walks over to Shuuichi, who all this time was still paralyzed at the door. With a gentle smile, she asks, “What’s your name?”

Deep breaths. Shuuichi exhales, slow and long, before finally speaking up. “I’m um, Shuuichi. Just Shuuichi.”

“Shuuichi-kun then. Then you can call me Kaede.” Her voice is warm and reassuring, like Shuuichi always imagined his mother would be like. He nods. “Do you want to explain why you’re here?”

“Well…” How does he begin with this? Obviously, Shuuichi can’t say anything about the hair, but the rest? Can he tell them about the deal? Probably not. So all that’s left is his dream. Are they really going to accept something so simple? So childish? It’s worth a shot. “I wanted to see the lantern festival. I’ve never gone, well…anywhere, before, so I need him to take me.”

“And the hair?” Miu asks. Crap he’s not out of this after all. What does he say? Does he lie? Can he lie? Should he lie? The longer he stays silent, the more suspicious this looks. But he doesn’t know what to say! What should he do—?

“He’s going for a world record,” Doukeshi answers. He’s not looking at Miu, but Shuuichi, and winks. A rescue; thank god. “I want in on the cash prize, so I struck a deal with him.” It’s a lie, but it saved him. Shuuichi will have to thank him for that.

“Stealing the crown wasn’t enough?” Gonta exclaims.

“Is the lantern festival really that important to you?” Kirumi asks. Nobody says it, but the question is implied: is it worth getting tangled up with a thief for this?

But to Shuuichi, that’s something he doesn’t even have to think about. “Yes.” It’s resolute, something he hasn’t been since he arrived. Maybe even before that. “I’ve been dreaming about them my entire life, so now that I have that chance, I need to take it.” And maybe he’s working with a thief, but he thinks that Doukeshi isn’t all that evil. He didn’t have to help. In fact, he could have probably snuck out while they all focused on him, and ran back to the tower, but he stayed. He’s risked a lot just to be here.

But they’re going to turn him in if Kiibo gets back before they can leave. Shuuichi’s chance ends right here, unless he does something. He can’t let that happen. “So…I need you to let us leave.”

Doukeshi raises an eyebrow. Is he serious? Does he really think they’re just going to let him leave? Let Shuuichi go, maybe, but not him. Doukeshi is pretty sure he’s going to have to think fast to get out. Is he really that naïve?

“You can tell the guards where we went, if you want,” Shuuichi continues, looking around at the skeptical group, “I think that’s perfectly fair, but please just let us go. I’m sure all of you have dreams, right?”

“Oh? What makes you say that?” Angie asks, leaning over to the side. On her belt he can see a bunch of painting supplies.

“All of the stuff in the room,” Shuuichi explains. He’s been wondering about the eclectic collection this whole time. The knives, and spears, and taxidermy, all scream ‘thug bar’, and so do the tattoos some of the patrons have, but the other things? “Like Angie-san, you painted all the portraits hanging here, right?”

Angie lights up. “I did!”

“Kaede-san plays that piano.”

Kaede nods.

“And I think you—” Shuuichi points to the green-haired man.

“Amami Rantarou. You can call me Rantarou.”

“Rantarou-san’s a sailor. That wheel on the wall was your idea, right?”

One by one, Shuuichi wanders through the tavern, going through all the items in the room. He matches them from person to person, based on things they’re wearing, or things nearby where they were. Even for Kiibo, who is no longer in the room. And one by one, he captures the interests and names and hearts of every single person he figures out. He thought for sure that if Shuuichi came here, he’d be so overwhelmed he’d want to go back home, and yet. It’s kind of amazing, Doukeshi thinks, that someone so naïve is still so capable. Despite himself, he finds himself a little impressed.

“What about his dream?” Kaede asks, pointing to Doukeshi, and once again everyone’s attention is on him.

“Eh, don’t bother,” Doukeshi says, getting up from his seat. “It’s to be insanely rich so I can lord it over everyone else.” That’s a lie, of course, but nobody here needs to know that.

“That’s horrible,” Tenko says, and everyone nods in agreement, making their own judgmental remarks amongst themselves.

In that instant, the door bursts open, and Kiibo returns with around five or six guards. “I found them!”

And just as suddenly, he’s being grabbed, dragged behind the bar along with Shuuichi. He looks around bewildered, just in time to see Kirumi pull a lever, and the wooden floor beneath them lowers into a ramp, leading into a tunnel. An escape route. So all that touchy-feely stuff paid off. “Go. And don’t come back, or we’ll have to turn you in,” she says, with a stern gaze.

“Thank you, Kirumi-san.” Shuuichi bows a little from his spot on the floor. He didn’t think he’d be able to sway them, but he did. Somehow.

Her stern gaze turns soft, and she smiles at him. “Make your dream come true, Shuuichi-san. I hope it’s everything you’ve imagined.”

“Where is he?” Kaito is talking to the patrons about their disappeared thief while the other guards patrol outside, but they seem to be giving mixed stories. Maki tunes them out.

Those stories never mattered, because he definitely didn’t leave through the door. She has her own witness confirming it. So how did he escape? She’s examined every square inch of this room, but she doesn’t see that pesky thief at all. There has to be some trick. Going up to the bar, she runs her hands along the taps, until she finds one that moves. A lever. A yank, and the floor opens up to reveal a tunnel. “So that’s where he went. Momota. Get everyone. We’re leaving.”

“Harumaki—” But she’s already gone. Kaito sighs. “Fine, I’ll get them.”

Tsumugi watches from the window as Maki storms into the tunnel. It was quite easy to manipulate such an impulsive guard. She needs someone to catch that thief, after all, and dealing with a pest is their job. But she has to get to Shuuichi first, before they do.

He was traipsing around this tavern—carelessly—happily. She saw him. He had the audacity to betray her like this? Oh no. She’s not having that. He’ll have to be punished too.

“Oh, hello Miss.” She finds herself being addressed by a young boy with a metal leg. “Can I do anything for you?”

“You can actually,” Tsumugi replies with a plastic grin, before pointing the dagger right between his eyes. “Tell me where that tunnel lets out.”

Shuuichi will get his punishment, she just has to catch him first.

#oumasaiweek #oumasai #saiouma #Ouma Kokichi #Saihara Shuuichi #hope.txt #v3 Tangled AU #my fic #dangan ronpa #ndrv3 #I feel bad I'm late #I'm so sorry y'all #I fucked it up #BUT HERE IT IS #I HOPE ITS WORTH IT

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jadekitty777 · 5 years

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Successive Failure

I’m a little later then I said I would be on this one. I intended to release this one in-between the hiatus, but one of the final scenes was giving me some trouble, but I still hope it was worth the wait! Ever since this volume decided to bring Qrow’s addiction as a more prominent plot point, I wanted to try my hand at a proper introspective piece for him, and this is what resulted.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 6k

Ao3 Link: Successive Failure

Warnings: Lots of cursing and alcoholism

Summary: No matter how many times Qrow has tried, he has never able to put the bottle down for good. You’d think that’d be his greatest failure in life. You’d be wrong. [A What-If scenario of Volume 6, Chapter 9 – What if Team RWBY found Qrow in a different way]

“Give me the strongest you got.” Qrow ordered the moment he sat down.

The bartender’s curvy mustache waggled as he gave him a sharp look over. “You ain’t from around here, are ya bud?”

Annoyance tinged through him. He knew some bartenders were always out looking for the next strange person to talk with; but Qrow certainly wasn’t interested in spilling his life story. “You’re a regular ol’ Sherlock. Can I just get my drink?”

The other was not amused with his attitude, not that many ever were. In answer, he reached under the bar and placed a bottle on the desk. It was pretty unassuming, just a shade of dark-green, with a label on it that read ‘King Taijitu Venom’ on it. The two-headed Grimm hissed at him from underneath the title. “Argus’ breweries are some of the finest in the world. To the point some of the bottles need special permission to be exported. But this one right here?” He tapped the bottlecap. “Is so potent it’s been illegalized for transport. Only people in Argus can purchase it, and only by the shot.”

As he scanned the words, he quickly discovered why. 67.8 APV. He’d never had anything stronger than 35 before, and it had knocked him on his ass by the end of the night.

He had to admit, it got his interest piqued. “Is it that good?”

“Let’s just say one shot has put even the biggest of guys under the table in the hour. You? I’d give twenty minutes.”

He slid a lien card across the bar, smirking confidently. “That a challenge?”

Qrow has had many terrible ideas over the course of his 40-year lifespan. Sneaking from one bar to another to take two shots of pure poison in a bottle somehow only ranked in the top five.

Still, as he wandered around the streets of – where was he again? Didn’t matter. As he wandered the streets, trying to find his way back to the house, he had to wonder why he didn’t try this sooner. He felt great! The liquor had burned like whiskey but tasted as fine as a martini. Worth every bit of the 200 lien it cost him.

“W-Whoa!” Qrow stumbled as the ground underneath him upheaved, grasping onto a light pole to keep himself upright. A bubbling in his chest turned into laughter and he swung himself around it, doing a decent rendition of ‘Singing in the Rain’ in one of those wishy-washy musicals Tai liked to watch. He let go of it, kicking up some snow bunched along the curb of the sidewalk, before tapping and twisting across the road, going on about sunshine in his heart and other such nonsense.

As he twirled once more on his heels, he noticed two bright lights coming towards him. Ah, right, the spotlight! Time for the big finish! He held up his arms, grinning widely, as the lights sped towards him.

“QROW!” The voice – a fan no doubt – was echoed with a great big noise that must have been the baseline reaching the crescendo.

He took a deep breath, ready to belt out the chorus for his audience – when something slammed into his body with enough force to jar his bones and rattle his brain around in his skull. It made the whole world spin.

“What were you doing?!” The voice, his fan, shrieked from above.

He blinked away spots, confused on how he’d suddenly ended up back on the sidewalk. He craned his neck, trying to focus on the tiny lady atop him. As her face came into view, his heart leapt. “Flowerbud?”

“Ruby!” Another, more boisterous, woman yelled, before she came into view. Huh, when had Raven dyed her hair? “Is he alright?!”

Okay. Not Raven. She wouldn’t care about his wellbeing for a millisecond.

“What kind of idiot stands in the middle of traffic like that!” This third lady was much shriller as she came to stand beside not-Raven. Unfortunately, even in his wildest woes of drunkenness, he couldn’t forget the face of a Schnee.

Which had an even more unfortunate side effect of pulling him out of his stupor enough that he realized it was not Summer but his niece hovering above him. It was also her fist that hit him hard enough on the chest that some of the air rushed from his lungs, making his voice squeak ironically when he gasped out, “Pipsqueak?”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Uh,” It took a moment to calculate, “Just two shots.”

“You’re lying!” Something seemed off about Ruby’s voice, but he couldn’t place why. Maybe he was still hearing Summer’s ghost in its tone.

Another hit jolted him from that train of thought. He swiped out for her hands – and was she using her semblance to keep them away from him because he was having an awfully hard time catching them. “Will you cut that out? Everything’s fine.”

“Fine? …Fine?!” He flinched a bit, her voice too loud. “Nothing’s fine! Oscar’s missing, everyone’s upset and you almost got hit by a truck! You, you-!” Lost for words, she just gave a yell of rage, before she was up and storming down the sidewalk, her cloak billowing behind her like a windstorm. After a moment, she gave another cry, kicking a Styrofoam coffee cup so it skittered across the concrete.

He knew something was really wrong though when she fell to her knees, pulling her hood up over her bowed head, wailing loudly.

“Ruby!” Yang hurried over to her.

Above him still, the Schnee and – wait, where’d the fourth come from? – shared a look, before the former nodded her head towards the sisters. “Go on. I’ll get him home.”

“Are you sure?” Blake looked between her and him warily. Not that he cared about that. Not one bit.

“Don’t worry. I’ve… done it before.”

He did however care about his niece who sounded really, really bad. “Kiddo?” He called to her, struggling to get to his feet. By the time he’d managed it though, dainty fingers were wrapping around his bicep, tugging him away from the sidewalk and away from his niece. “Hey, leggo!” His assailant didn’t answer nor concede. He tried to pull away, only to stumble even more when black glyphs appeared under his feet, magnetizing his boots and forcing him to stay on the path. “Ice princess, ya hear me? I said let go! I have to check on Ruby!”

“You’ve done enough.” She wouldn’t even look at him.

He was glad she didn’t because he knew that tone. Had heard it all his life, sewing itself into his head like a song that he couldn’t find the rest of. A tune that just wouldn’t quit replaying those few beats, no matter how many times he tried to distract himself from it.

It was the tone that said: I’m disappointed in you.

When Qrow was 30, he had hit rock bottom.

It had been a slow weathering. At first it was simply the pressure of the underground mission, the secrets so few knew looming along his back like a phantom. Then, Raven left, carving a hole in his team and family that not even Summer and her boundless optimism knew how to correct. She didn’t get long to try before her life was stolen next and with it, she might as well have taken Tai’s as he lost himself to grief so endless, no amount of effort could pull him out of the pit he’d fallen into. Qrow, left alone for the first time, felt like he’d lost all semblance of control. Aimless, guideless, he turned to the only thing that could bring him joy anymore, as false as it was.

He was no stranger to drinking. In the tribe, it was common place for twelve-year-olds to be declared men, and with it, were allowed to sip on the neck of a bottle. At Beacon, he made a lot of his connections through rave parties and throwaway dances, always with a cup in hand and praised for his ability to find ‘the good stuff’. Maturity and fitting in, that’s what drinking meant for him.

Until it didn’t anymore. For as much as he scoffed at his sister for it, he knew – whether physically present or not – he was just as good at running away.

As the years progressed, he became more of a master at that than anything else. By the time he’d truly woken up, Tai had gotten a new job as a teacher, Yang was seven, and Ruby was five. And apparently Qrow, drunk, stupid Qrow, was their babysitter.

But that was kind of the thing about black out drinking. He made promises he hardly remembered and had entire weeks months of his memory just splotched out like a gothic painter got a little too eager when they put the paintbrush to his brain.

So when he finally woke up to a puppy he hadn’t even known Tai had adopted yapping incessantly at him and found the house disturbingly empty, nothing but the grooved tracks of the girls’ play wagon disappearing into the forest left behind, he knew he had fucked up. Cursed himself as he rushed out after them, taking to the sky as he prayed to whatever Gods he didn’t believe in at the time that they would just let him be lucky.

Just this once, please, just this one time and he’ll never drink again.

They answered and he got to bring both the girls home that day.

He repaid Them by trying to convince a seven-year-old to keep a secret she shouldn’t have to hold.

Tai found out anyways, because Ruby was too wide-eyed over just how cool she thought her uncle was to understand why she wouldn’t tell her daddy about his brave rescue.

Qrow remembered that day with more clarity than he would have liked, down to the very way Tai manhandled him out of the house and tossed him into the dirt.

“I’m done.” Tai had seethed. He was beyond livid, red in the face and every inch of him shaking as he contained the need to pummel him six feet under. “You either get your fucking act together or you get the fuck out of my house.”

Though he’d later be grateful, the Qrow that day was nothing but indignant as he rose against him, “The fuck? I save your kids and you kick me out?”

“You were supposed to be watching them!” Tai shrilled back. “I’ve tried my best to be patient and understanding and all you do is spit that back in my face! And you know what? I’m tired! I’m tired of giving you extra money every week. I’m tired of calls at 2 A.M to come pick you up from the bar. I’m tired of having to explain to the girls why their uncle is never around, even when he is.”

“At least drinking’s a better excuse then the damn pity party you’re still throwing.” Even as he said it, he knew he had crossed a line, and deserved every bit of the black eye he received for it.

“You know what? Fuck off.” Tai snarled down at him, before turning back for the house. Turning back from him. “You want to go kill yourself, then be my fucking guest!”

“Y-Yeah well-!” Qrow scrambled for a response, digging as dirty as he could go, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to be rid of me! Better off without your bad luck charm hanging around, right?!”

For a moment, it made his brother-in-law pause but when he looked back at him, there was no sympathy, only disappointment. “Wow. Playing the manipulative card? I thought you were better than that.”

And then, to add salt onto the newly cut wound, the door was slammed in his face and Qrow found himself homeless.

He’d like to say he’d immediately cleaned up his act and came back into the house with his tail-feathers tucked between his legs, but that’d be a lie, so he didn’t. In fact, he never told anyone how he spent the next few months, scavenging about and doing less than savory missions for quick cash to feed his addiction.

His second awakening came when he found himself locked in a prison in Vale after trying to steal a six-pack from the grocery store. Nothing was more pathetic than being given his one phone call and realizing he had absolutely no one to dial.

So he called Ozpin, explaining without explaining that he found himself in a bit of trouble and needed some cash. He had expected to be hung up on. He had hoped to be wired the money. What he got was his former headmaster coming down to the station in person to bail him out. And boy, was that ride back to Beacon ever awkward and uncomfortable, Qrow silently wishing he could sink into the leather seats until he disappeared for good.

Oz didn’t ask any questions until they were closed up in his office, making Qrow feel like he was seventeen and about to be scolded for breaking the holographic projectors in the computer lab. Again.

“So, care to tell me what that was all about?” Ozpin asked, pouring him some hot chocolate.

“Don’t suppose I can just say no and accept a week’s detention like the good ol’ days, huh?” Qrow accepted the cup, even if he likely wouldn’t drink it.

He chuckled in return. “I’m afraid not. Being a graduate means I can no longer dole out corporal punishment.” He pushed off from the desk he lent against, saying as he rounded it, “However, I’m still an excellent listener, if you want to talk about anything.”

He stared hard at his reflection in the muddy surface. “Who says I got anything to say?”

The other sat down, humming, “Well, I suppose if you don’t we can merely spend the time catching up. It has been quite awhile since I’ve last seen you.” Qrow slunk down a little more in his seat, pretending he didn’t know why that was. Oz went about pouring his own cup, adding as he did, “It’s a little ironic you showed up, actually. Taiyang called a few days ago, asking if I’d seen you.” Brown eyes peered at him over shaded spectacles. “He’s worried.”

That finally got him to snort, crossing his heels on the edge of the desk. “Yeah. Sure he is.”

There was a sigh, Oz dropping all pretenses that he didn’t already know what was going on. “Qrow, I understand why you might feel that Tai’s actions were out of spite, but-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a burden.” He slumped further, setting the full cup on the floor. “Got it.”

His old headmaster gave him a reproachful look, before sternly saying, “No. You are not the burden, Qrow. Your drinking is. You need to separate yourself from the vice if you hope to beat this.”

Beat it? He could hardly live without it. “Drinking IS part of who I am.”

“Do you truly define yourself in your head as a drunkard?”

“Well… what would YOU define me as?” He challenged right back.

“A huntsman.”

It was so simple.

And yet so wrong.

“Ha, haha!” Qrow smacked his own forehead, craning his neck over the back of his chair as he laughed towards the ceiling. “You got to be kidding me! Oz, I haven’t done an honest mission in years.”

“Then do one.”

“Okay, it was funny the first time, not so much the second time.” He spat.

“I’m being serious.” Oz turned slightly, bringing up a display to the left of him, scrolling through a listing. “How about Grimm control in the western sector? Or escorting the trade lines in Argus?”

“H-Hey.” Panic suddenly clogged his throat, Qrow sitting up straight. “Oz, wait. I’m out of practice.”

Hardly deterred, the man hit a few keys to pull up a new list. “Well, there are certainly plenty of easy rank missions to be done as well. How does transporting rations to stationaries sound?”

“Bad. They all sound bad.” He snapped. When that didn’t even earn him a cursory glance, he smacked the top of the desk. “Oz!”

There was a horrible screech as one of the cogs underneath the glass surface suddenly popped out of place, the rest of the gears coming to an awful, ear-piercing stop. They both looked down at it, Qrow giving a low groan before thumping his forehead on the cold, glass surface.

After a moment, he heard a sigh. “It’s easily fixed Qrow. Other things, I’m afraid, are not. Especially the longer you allow them to remain unrepaired.”

When he turned his head to peer up at him, he didn’t know what to make of the look Ozpin was giving him. It was full of compassion and, worse yet, understanding in a way that made his stomach flip sickeningly. “Look, Oz,” He said as he sat up, “I get what you’re trying to do and I appreciate it, I guess. But, it’s not…” that bad. The rest of the sentence faltered in his throat. He hadn’t slept in a bed or had a decent meal in weeks.

He tried again. “I can-” Stop? If he had the means to get it, he’d be downing a shot in a heartbeat.

“I don’t-” Need help? He was just in jail, for maiden’s sake!

And as he tried to find a way, any way, to justify himself, to argue for a desire on the worst of days even he hated, he realized he’d run out of excuses.

If he didn’t do something now, then what? How much further could he lose control of his life, until he couldn’t come back from it?

For the first time in a long time, Qrow remembered what it was like to be afraid of himself.

The strength he found to finally speak was tenuous at best, coming out as nothing but a whisper, “I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I?”

Oz’s smile was kind. “We all do things in life we regret. But, it’s not in those errors that we should crucify ourselves. Rather, it’s in those choices we make after those errors that we should judge ourselves.”

And so, Qrow made one.

For the following months, he stuck around Beacon and spent his days in a waking hell as he forced himself through a rough detox. Daily shakes, cold sweats, physical, aching pain that wouldn’t quit no matter how many painkillers he swallowed down. On the worst of them, the ones where the need became so strong he knew he was going to fail himself, he would have Ozpin lock him in the vault, knowing it was the only place his wings couldn’t get him out of.

When he returned to Patch, it was on orientation for Signal’s new school year. He never really felt cut out to be a teacher, but being a headmaster himself, Ozpin was able to secure himself the opportunity, encouraging him to take some time to recover and retrain himself while also helping the future generation do the same. In a few years, Oz told him, he’d want to see him return to the field as a Huntsman once more.

It was the first time in a long time that Qrow felt eager for something that didn’t come in a bottle. After being lost for so long, finally he was able to remember what he had wanted in life. To be a legend, unforgettable and revered.

But, first, there were a few people he needed to make things up to.

Ruby and Yang were simple. Young as they were, they couldn’t grasp the full impact of what had happened that resulted in his sudden disappearance, just the sorrow left behind and the joy of his return. However, blindsided as he was, Taiyang wasn’t so easily swayed, making it clear he’d have to earn his trust back. So used to breaking things in life, Qrow wasn’t even entirely sure how to fix that, but for once, he wanted to. This was the only family he had left, and by Gods, he was going to make sure he kept them. So, he stuck around and proved to Tai, to the girls, and even to himself that he really could be a functional adult and he didn’t need a crutch in life to get by. What had weathered away was rebuilt even slower, but little by little he was invited to spend more time at the house, doing everything from sharing dinners to marathoning series together. Eventually, he started to call it home again.

It wasn’t until Tai gave him permission to train Ruby that he truly felt forgiven though. He’d never taken anything so serious in his life as he did showing his niece how to be the extraordinary huntress he could already tell she would be.

Despite all his efforts though, he never stopped drinking, not really. He couldn’t manage to fully abolish the itch that would bite at his skin whenever the temptation would get to be too much. The most he accomplished was making sure his addition wasn’t the thing running the show anymore. But it was something. Something he could take a measure of pride in and hold onto.

His life was his again and he was going to make the most of it.

At 40, Qrow found himself waking up in a hospital and was hit once more with the realization he had fucked up.

Three problems made themselves immediately clear the moment he opened his eyes:

The headache beating across his skull was so terrible, taking a jackhammer to it would have been kinder.

The incessant beeping coming from somewhere in the general vicinity just needed to shut the hell up.

The soft whimpers of someone crying was simultaneously the least bothersome and the most terrible.

The last measure was magnified tenfold when he finally turned to see who it was.

“Ruby?” His tongue felt heavy and slurred, even though he knew he was anything but drunk right now.

She jerked, a startled gasp escaping her. She hurriedly wiped at her face. “Uncle, you’re awake!”

He glanced around the room, at the high-tech gizmos settled against the walls and the IV line going down into his wrist, and a sinking feeling started to settle in his gut as he pieced together where he was. “Why am I here? What happened?”

“When we got back, you were on the floor and you wouldn’t wake up. We thought you hit your head.” Ruby swallowed some, her lip trembling. “We weren’t even sure you were breathing and even when Jaune tried to heal you, you just started to-” Her voice caught and she looked away.

Something in him felt like it was breaking, seeing her cry like this. “Rubes, hey.” He tried to reach out for her, but she dodged his attempt, hurrying for the door.

“I got to go tell the nurse your awake. He needs to check, things. I’ll be back in a second.” She couldn’t manage to even look at him as she slipped out the door.

It was more than a second, or even a few minutes, and Qrow didn’t have to wonder why. The image of Ruby, strong, surefire, almost unshakeable Ruby, probably holed up in a bathroom somewhere to compose herself because of him left a bad taste in his mouth and a guilt so heavy he was sure it’d crush him. (Gods, he wanted a drink.) The least he could do was try and look a bit more presentable by the time she got back and not like… not like he was dying. He struggled to sit up, but just a few inches sent a ripple of pain through his stomach and he swallowed down the instant nausea before he could throw up over himself. He laid still as much as possible, waiting out the agony until it passed.

Alright, bad idea.

He looked around, trying to think. Some beds came with remote-y things, right? It was Atlas tech but Argus was a close enough neighbor, maybe they’d imported.

He had just spotted a possible candidate to his plight, tucked away in the corner of a side table, when the door opened and in walked his niece and a young man in earth-toned scrubs. A gray and white banded tail curled around him as he approached the bedside.

“Mr. Branwen, it’s good to see you up. I’m Nurse Arma.” Qrow tried not to snort over how on the nose that name was. Unperturbed, the nurse continued, “Let’s sit you up, okay?”

Sure enough, the remote he had been eyeing was the right one, and the gears underneath it whirled, slowly lifted him into a sitting position. Qrow had to shut his eyes against another roil of pain – not just in his gut but all over, like he’d been zapped by a thousand volts of lightning dust.

A hand fell to his arm, pinching lightly. “Looks like you’re mostly hydrated again. How are you feeling?”

He glanced quickly to his niece, hidden in the far corner of the room and still refusing to look at him. “Well, ain’t the worst I’ve ever felt, if you can believe that.”

Arma chuckled, writing some things down on the chart he carried as he looked over one of the nearby machines. “Glad to see the alcohol poisoning didn’t destroy your sense of humor.”

“Wait, what?” The fact hit him like a train wreck. He’d been bad before, but he’d never… “That’s what happened to me?”

The smiles were gone, the other turning away from the IV bag to focus on him. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

Last night? A quick glance at the window told him that the sky was a soft, pale shade. He had grown so accustomed to reading it during his years when a clock and a calendar weren’t exactly common finds in a woodland camp, that he knew it was early morning. “I left one bar to go to another and then, I think there were some lights? That’s it.”

That was apparently not what the nurse wanted to hear as he frowned down at him, before glancing across the room. “Ruby, would you like me to tell him, or would you prefer to?”

She withdrew a little further in her corner, murmuring back, “You can. I can’t say it.”

“Alright.” Arma set his clipboard down on the side table, turning his full attention back to his patient. There was nothing about that piteous look that Qrow liked. “The story I was told is your nieces and her friends were out looking for one of your teammates that had gone missing.” Missing? Who had-? “During their search, one of them spotted you running into the street, right in front of a truck. Your niece here used her semblance to get you out of the way, but you were so intoxicated you couldn’t answer why you’d done it. You don’t remember that?”

Qrow could barely breathe. “I… N-No.” Had he been trying to…?

Oh gods, and Ruby and Yang had both witnessed it.

The armadillo Faunus only nodded and continued, like he wasn’t shaking up Qrow’s entire psyche. “One of them brought you back to the house, before going back out to continue her search, hoping you’d be able to just rest it off. But in the meantime, your blood alcohol concentration continued to rise, until it reached dangerous levels. That was when your teammate that was supposedly missing returned to the house, and he found you lying on the floor, unconscious and unresponsive. He called the rest of your team to notify them of the emergency, and they all rushed back home. One of your other teammates tried to use his semblance to heal you. He didn’t think that it wouldn’t work for a non-physical wound.”

He braced himself as he braved asking, “So, what happened?”

“If I had to guess? His semblance probably jumped your BAC into the highest peak possible.” The man held out his hands like a consolation even as he delivered the blow, “You had a seizure. Two, in fact. One there, and one shortly after you were admitted to ER. During the first one, you bit through your tongue enough that we had to stitch it.” Well, that explained why talking hurt. “The one here was much more severe. You would have asphyxiated on your own vomit had you not have had anyone to clear your airways. After that, the doctor ordered a catheter to clear some of the fluid in your bladder and an IV for the dehydration. We’ve been monitoring your progress overnight. Thankfully, no other complications came up; but, as you can imagine, it was a pretty scary experience. For everyone involved.”

Qrow couldn’t look up anymore, and instead stared down at his trembling hands, feeling the shame and humiliation tangling its way through him. “Yeah…”

He heard a sigh, Arma picking back up the clipboard. “You’re very lucky, Mr. Branwen. Had they been even an hour later, you probably wouldn’t be here anymore.” He stepped towards the doorway, saying as he went. “The doctor will come check on you in a bit and release you once she’s confirmed you’re well enough.”

With him gone, the following silence was almost suffocating. It felt like it took everything it had in him to speak up. “So uh, hey kiddo, what say we order some hospital food and complain about how awful it is?”

No answer.

“Or, maybe a game? I’m sure my Scroll’s somewhere.”

He saw her jaw twitch but her eyes remained stubbornly focused on the window.

His hands curled into the sheets. “Ruby. Say something. Please.”

“You want me to say something?” She said, turning, a storm in her gaze. “Okay. I’ll say something.” She stomped towards him, stopping at the end of his bed and yelled, “Do you know how mad I am at you?!”

“I-”

“No! Shut up!” She cut her hands through the air, her voice rising another octave, enough to make him flinch. “Do you have any idea what it was like, coming back to you just lying on the floor like that? I’ve never been so terrified as I was sitting out in that waiting room, wondering if you were even gonna make it!” She hitched over another breath, tears flowing anew. “What was I gonna do if you died, huh?! What was I gonna tell dad? That his best friend was just too STUPID to control himself? And Yang’s so upset with you, she won’t even come in here!” She lifted her arms up to the ceiling as if to curse the heavens, “I don’t even know I feel! I’m hurt and sad and, and- I just want to shove Crescent Rose through your head!”

As quickly as it was there, the bluster blew out of her, and as her arms fell and her body slumped, Ruby looked almost small again, in a way that made Qrow remember the innocent, little girl who so looked up to him for so many years. Looked at him like her idol and hero and who would go around school telling anyone who would listen about how her uncle was just the best and she was going to be just like him. Who would bounce at the end of his bed, bright-eyed and begging him to tell her another story about his missions or who would don her blanket like a cape and go running down the halls, fighting off imaginary foes.

And in her visage now, he could see that vision of him shattering around her. It pained him, to realize he’d caused it. He never meant to fail her too.

Ruby sniffled, saying to the tiles, “I know what Professor Ozpin did hurt you, Uncle, and it’s been real hard for you. But you were wrong about something.” She looked up, catching his gaze and holding it in a way she couldn’t before. “You said no one wanted you, but that’s not true. I will always want you to be a part of my life.” The words struck him in the chest, and he couldn’t breathe again. “If dad and Yang were here, they’d say the same. I know you think you’re unimportant and unneeded, and I think you focus so hard on that you can’t always see it, but you are family. And us losing you will break it more than you think it will.”

Qrow twisted the sheets in his hands. “Ruby, I-” His voice faltered. Fuck.

“I just…” She lowered her head. “I don’t know what else to do, uncle. What am I doing wrong?”

His eyes widened.

“If I could just figure out how to-”

“Stop.” Though his voice had been firm he barely felt steady, everything around him ready to upheave. He watched the way his knuckles turned white, the way his arms trembled. The way a single droplet fell from his chin, splotching a wet spot into the sheets. “Look. I know you want me to say I’ll just quit and everything will just be fine. But, I’ve been trying for years. I… don’t know how. To stop.” He chuckled bitterly, hitching over a sob. He couldn’t remember the last time things hurt this bad. “It’s like my semblance. I don’t want it, but I can’t get rid of it, either.” In the corner of his eye, he could see the blur of red growing closer. “But none of this is your fault, kiddo. All this? Being here today? It’s on me and me only. You, Yang, Tai?” He finally looked up at her. “You guys aren’t the reason I fail. You’re the reason I try at all.”

This time, when she hugged him, he didn’t try to pull away like he had at the farm. Instead, he sighed and sunk into it, enjoying the rare warmth and comfort it brought, even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it.

“Uncle Qrow?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Qrow blinked his eyes open, staring at the silver rose-patterned emblem pinned to Ruby’s coat, seeing his reflection in it. He smiled weakly back at it. “Yeah kiddo, love ya too.”

Qrow stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting the last button to his dress shirt. “Gotta say, my normal clothes are definitely more comfortable than that scratchy gown y’all threw me in.”

“I’ll lodge a complaint with the fashion department, just for you.” Arma quipped, placing a tray on the side table, nodding to it. “Your personal artifacts.”

“Thanks.” He still felt sore and his tongue was a definite mess – he’d decided to take a look at it the moment he had access to a mirror – but after a small meal and enough water to fill a lake, his nausea and his headache had both tempered. Enough for the doc to clear him for release.

“Take care, Mr. Branwen.” Arma headed for the exit but as he reached the threshold, he paused, looking back. “And… for your sake, I hope I don’t see you back here.”

“Yeah, me nether kid.”

Once he’d left, Qrow crossed over to the table, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He pocked his scroll. Slowly slipped back on his bracelets. Then his rings. And, finally, his necklace. All the while avoiding the largest item there until it was all that was left.

He sighed, reaching out and picking up the flask, hearing the slosh as he did. It triggered the itch, the one that left his skin tingling, his mouth watering.

If drinking two glasses of the strongest alcohol in the world was only in the top five worst things he’d ever done, he was pretty sure him undoing the cap of his flask was vying for the number one slot.

“You’re such an idiot.” He whispered as he lifted it.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, following the signs down the hall to the lobby. It wasn’t hard to spot Ruby, between her standout clothing and her high-pitched voice shouting his name as she waved him over.

“Gee, glad the whole cavalry didn’t come running.” Qrow jibed.

She shoved him for it. “They’re outside. The staff doesn’t like a lot of us, uh, ‘weapons-toting kids’ hanging around.”

“Well, at least we’re already here when firecracker decides to deck me right back through the front door.”

“Uncle…” She reprimanded as she turned for the exit.

He followed after her. “Bet you five lien she does it.”

“That’s awful!” A beat, then Ruby smirked. “How about a box of chocolate-chip cookies instead?”

“Deal.” He chuckled, throwing an arm across her shoulders as they walked through the doorway.

Back in room 104, it wouldn’t be discovered until the orderly finished cleaning up the room.

Left upturned in the sink just outside of the bathroom was single item.

A metal flask, the last droplet of alcohol having drained out of it some time ago.

#qrow branwen #ruby rose #ozpin #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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mister-lucky-bunny · 5 years

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New Adventures From The World of Twelve

Hey guys! New fanfiction, and this time it’s Wakfu related! While not featuring any of the characters from the TV show, I wanted to do the formula of “One Adventure a Day” with a few OCs! I may post pictures of them later, but for now here’s chapter one. Let me know what you think and please enjoy!

Description: After a Iop woman gets separated from her patrol unit, she vows to go find them again, with the help of a new friend. The question is, what will the two of them encounter on their expedition?

New Adventures From The World of Twelve

Chapter 1: The Hidden City

The World of Twelve. A massive, seemingly endless world of potential adventures, always changing, and constantly growing. Despite the biggest nations of the World still being as populated and busy as they ever were, the little towns and even smaller villages kept changing and growing as well. New ones formed and old ones died, as time is a slave to no creature.

Among these places, one city was grown from the top of a mountain, hidden away by numerous trees, large enough to make Sadida himself proud. The mountain peak itself was quite large, if flat. It was fortunate, because this laid out easy ground work for buildings and people to reside. It would take a lot of time, but in the end, the village itself became self sufficient, not requiring the assistance of any other nation or town. Deceptively bigger than it looks, there are not any living souls from any other town that has come to visit in many many years.

To those who live in this isolated place, it is known simply as "The Hidden City". It has become an unspoken rule between all citizens that no one was to leave the premise of the mountain. Not only would it be dangerous, seeing as how the forest was home to many creatures, but if they were to meet anyone else, they would undoubtedly give away the location of the city, therefore sullying the land with outsiders. The ruler of the city was quite xenophobic, and by spreading his own beliefs onto the other citizens, it quickly became a common mindset. Some would call it brainwashing, in a sense, but others would merely call it paranoia.

Thankfully, this mindset wouldn't truly affect everyone, and for the most part, history of the World of Twelve was still taught in the school. The life in the city lived on as peacefully as it could, living on it's own style of economy. Kamas were used, sure, but not always necessary. Sometimes, if two people knew each other, they were bound to do a simple trade, or even receive whatever they were buying for free. Life went on in the city as it always would, with everything else around them doing the same. Nothing special, nothing incredibly new or ground breaking. Just the same old city.

At least, until one day when someone discovered the Hidden City.

_______________________________________________

Iops are not renowned for their intelligence. That was a common fact. Their bravery and courage is unending, though, always wanting to prove their honor out on the battlefield. While being incredibly skilled in battle, it should definitely be known to not provide one with a map, as more often than not, they will end up lost, unable to even know how to decipher it.

That was how Faetard, a tall, nicely toned, turquoise haired Iop, ended up. As she trudged along the forest ground, her eyes never wandered from the map she held in front of her. Of course, she had no idea that she was holding it upside down, but her peripheral vision kept her from bumping into any rocks or limbs or trees that were in her way. Either that or she was just lucky and oblivious. Faetard was part of a group of Iop patrollers, who were out roaming around the country side to look for any trouble that could be brewing. She was part of of a group of four others, all of whom were as well trained as she was (and as intelligent, given her race).

It wouldn't be until she finally pulled her somewhat vacant gaze away from the map, looking around in confusion. With an exasperated sigh and a shake of her head, she moved her hands to her hips, clucking her tongue in disappointment. "Man, I really can't count on those guys, can I?" She said aloud to herself, lisping her words a bit (getting your front teeth knocked out while fighting will do that) as she continued on her trail, her large chest puffed out in pride. "Not that I should be surprised, I suppose. They always end up lost whenever I take charge," She rambled on, keeping her pace up. Despite the heavy forestation of the area, she could still tell from the small amount of light dwindling away from between the leaves that night would soon fall, and she had to find someplace to rest.

The mountain she was moving up was quite steep, however, and didn't allow even the smallest bit of flat land for her to lay down on. Faetard kept climbing, not wanting to spend another night sleeping on a rock. They weren't comfortable. Not only that, but it tended to make her brushed back, clover styled hair messy. It took a long time to get it to stand straight out like that! Even though she was tall and exceptionally strong, the Iop wasn't a fan of roughing it outdoors when she didn't need to. It didn't help that, despite wearing thin, standard patrolling clothing. She also had to drag around heavy metal boots, as well as metal elbow and shoulder armor. She kept her metal gauntlets on as well, which she was just barely keeping up due to how tired she was beginning to feel. As her fists swung down to her sides, she began to slow, groaning a bit. "The outdoor sucks," She complained, stopping for a little break on the mountain.

Faetard wouldn't give up, though. It wasn't the Iop way to just give up. With a loud rumble from her stomach, she looked down and rubbed it, groaning. "Don't worry, old friend, I know there has to be something to eat around here." She kept climbing, gripping the rocks in front of her with her feet to keep herself from tumbling back down. "If only the rest of my team was here... and if I hadn't eaten all our supplies a few hours ago." Her knees shook with each step she took, almost ready to fall under her own weight, rapidly starting to grow weak from hunger and exhaustion.

The smell of something rather delicious gave her a burst of energy, her eyes quickly darting up the mountain she was climbing. Sure, it was very large, and the trees that often got in her way didn't help with navigating, but she knew the smell of fish! Or was it beef? Maybe even Gobball? Whatever the case, the Iop quickly hurried up the mountain, her stomach gurgling loudly as more thoughts of food entered her mind. Where there's food, there's an inn!

Faetard continued up the mountain until she finally reached the peak. Her hands quickly pulled herself up over the rocky edge, and she gained her footing. Thankfully, she was finally on flat ground, so long as she didn't lose her balance and fall backwards. Her eyes widened upon seeing a large, thriving city hidden away on top of the mountain, surrounded by a thick forest. The sun was starting to set, the dull glow of orange slowly making way for the heavy veil of dark blue, welcoming the stars and the moon in the sky to the city. From what she could see, there were still a few people walking around, although none had taken any notice to her for the time being.

Rather than worry about that, she continued on the trail to find where the heavenly smell of food was coming from. She would need a fully belly before she could find her unit, anyways. That and a good nights' sleep. And then a big breakfast.

__________________________________________

"Pair of sevens." Came the voice of the Pandawan tavern keeper, Maxie. For what seemed to be the fifth time this month, he was playing a game of cards to make a certain regular of his finally pay for a meal. The only downside was that said regular was an Ecaflip. Relying solely on their own fate and luck, Ecaflips never turn down an opportunity to gamble. Especially when it lead to getting something for free.

Malucard, while not particularly talented, was exceptionally lucky at games. While not surprising, he had somewhat of a reputation for bringing bad luck to any other opponent that dared to try and best him at gambling. The Ecaflip himself was slender and tall, though his grey, stripped coat was quite long, making him look fluffy. His black hair, while quite long, was kept back in a braided ponytail. The Ecaflip wore simple, if shabby, looking clothing, keeping four pouches around his waist. He also had one of his fangs hanging out in a bit of a snaggletooth on the right side of his mouth. His yellow eyes were bright, visible even through the dim light of the tavern.

With his tail still as a board behind him and his face as neutral as he could keep it, Malucard flipped down his hand. "Two eights. I win." A grunt of annoyance came from the Pandawa as the Ecaflip took a sip from his drink, leaning back in his chair.

"Jeez, I never learn my lesson, huh?" Maxie mused, getting up from his seat after taking a long drink from his own tankard, quickly emptying it. "I swear, though, one of these days I'll beat ya in a game, Malucard."

The cat gave a shrug, using his hands to reshuffle the cards back into the deck. "Maybe. Until then, I'll go ahead and take that free meal, if you please," He replied, flashing a small smirk up at him. With another small grumble of irritation, the tavern keeper walked back to behind the counter looking into the kitchen.

"Hey, get me a fried fish special-" Maxie was cut off suddenly, the entire atmosphere of the tavern quickly becoming quiet and tense. It wouldn't be a surprise that everyone's attention was now on the Amazonian Iop woman who just burst through the door. Numerous eyes were in confused fright of the large woman, who was walking right to an empty spot at the bar, oblivious to the looks she was receiving. From the way they were looking at her, they must've never seen a Iop before!

In fact, the Hidden City was actually exempt from having a few races, Iops being one of them. This one was quite a spectacle, too. While the most common looks she received were unwelcome, wary glances, a couple others looked her over with a look of fascination. Mostly towards her body, since she decided to show off quite a bit of it. Malucard himself was quite wary. This girl was definitely an outsider, and a very strong looking one at that. He himself was tall, standing at around six feet. But this Iop stood at least one head taller than him, around six feet, seven inches, if he had to guess. With those large muscles, she looked like a force to be reckoned with.

A bit of her threatening look was cut down slightly as she placed an order, speaking with a noticeable lisp. "Hey, keeper! I'll take the biggest meal you provide, along with a drink to match!" Faetard ordered eagerly, still quite oblivious to the fact that she had just made the whole atmosphere awkward. Maxie raised an eyebrow to the Iop, a small grimace forming on his face. Money was money, however... if she paid. He turned back to the kitchen, murmuring an order of something called "The Warrior's Platter".

While she waited for her meal, Faetard looked around the whole tavern, a big dopey grin on her face. It certainly was as typical as taverns went, but still, any place she hadn't been to was an adventure to her, no matter how small it was! As Maxie set down a glass of ale in front of her, she quickly took it and drank a big gulp from it.

It wouldn't be long until the Iop received her food, having it delivered to her as Malucard got his. Faetard immediately began to dig into the large platter of meat before her, chewing loudly and even grunting as she pulled off strips of flesh from the bone. "So... who might you be?" Maxie asked bluntly, curious of this large, imposing outsider. The Ecaflip ate his own dinner, keeping an ear shifted towards the conversation. He was quite certain that a few others were doing the same.

Looking up from her dinner, her mouth still full of food, she began talking. "I am Faetard, Head Scout of the Iop Army!" Naturally, food would spray from her mouth, making a bit of a mess on the counter, as well as Maxie's face. With an displeased look, he wiped the mess off of his face. He would tell her off about acting in such crude table manners, but in a Iop's case, this kind of behavior probably was good manners.

"I see..." Maxie murmured, eyeing her over as she continued to chow down. He knew better to hold his tongue and not upset her with too much sarcasm (not that she'd catch it anyways). Still, how she ended up in their city when they've never even seen an outsider before was somewhat suspicious. "You know, we've never had an outsider visit this city before. Not many folks take kindly to them..." He trailed off cryptically.

At this point, Fae managed to stop eating for a second, her mouth still full of food she turned and looked around at the small audience she unknowingly created. Many people were still staring at her in shock and curiosity, though plenty of them had scowls of displeasure on their faces. They figured the faster that this Iop left their city, the better. Malucard wasn't one of these people, though he was still puzzled by her presence.

Faetard swallowed her large mouthful and turned back to Maxie, smiling as big as ever. "Well that's a shame! Must get pretty boring when you don't get to see anything new from time to time," She replied, taking another big bite from a roast leg of Gobball. "Pretty neat city, though, I gotta say. If I could find the rest of my patrol unit, I'd be able to show them, too!" Some of the people started to murmur to themselves. The one thing that they most certainly did not want was this Iop-Brain showing their city off to more outsiders.

What caught Fae's attention, though, was the light scoff of someone who wasn't the tavern keeper. While Maxie did roll his eyes and shake his head in disbelief of the stupidity of this girl, Malucard had taken the opportunity to voice a thought in his mind. "If they're nearby, the wildlife would've gotten to 'em first..." He trailed off, taking a sip from his drink. She had turned his head to him, somehow managing to hear him.

Faetard gave the first semblance of a frown, looking quite prideful as she straightened up (an action that was lessened due to the fact that she had food covering her face). "I'm pretty sure a Iop patrol unit can handle a bit of wild animals," She huffed. "Besides, it's not like I came across anything anyways. It was quite peaceful."

At this, Malucard raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled. 'That's odd,' He'd think to himself. 'Boowolves roam around the woods at night, and lots of them. If she didn't see any, then something must've scared them away. Something big.'

Maxie was also voicing this towards the Iop. "Nothing? No Boowolves, feral Bow-Wows, not even a Piwi?" Faetard scrunched up her face as she began trying to remember her journey. Rocks, trees, more trees, the mountains, the smell of food, the eating of the food...

"Uhhm... nope. Nothing," She said finally with a shrug. "Is that a bad thing or something?"

The large Pandawa crossed his arms, looking quite serious. "Possibly. If you couldn't see anything out there, then something must've scared everything away."

A sudden movement of her chair being pushed back as she stood up, her large height being reaffirmed by everyone nearby as terrifying. With one fist against her hip and the other up in the air, threatening to punch a hole in the ceiling, she began speaking in a very important tone. "Fear not! I, Faetard, will vanquish this beast, wherever it may be! No evil creature will continue living as long as I'm around!" In a haste, the Iop woman turned and ran out of the tavern, her large boots shaking the entire foundation of the tavern.

Malucard stood up out of his own chair, an eyebrow raised as he watched her walk back into the woods. At night. "What th- you'll get eaten alive out there! There's no way you can take on anything that dangerous when you can't see!" A few other patrons looked in his direction now. Maxie did as well, a small grin growing on his face, an eyebrow raised. When Faetard didn't do anything to acknowledge him or even turn around, he groaned and adjusted his pouches, quickly pulling on a cloak that hung on the back of his chair and following after her, against his better judgment.

The Pandawa stayed put, unable to pull his own eyes away from the door. He wanted to find it strange that Malucard was willing to do something like follow a complete stranger out into the woods at night, but he knew better. The Ecaflip was always like that. With a sigh, he poured himself another drink. Right as the drink touched his lips, his eyes shot open, quickly slamming the drink down. This startled a few patrons even more, though this didn't stop him from shouting, "Damned Ogrest, she didn't pay!"

_____________________________________

Despite the fact that she was having trouble seeing a lot, Faetard kept walking around, her eyes to the ground below her. While she would indeed run into a few trees from time to time, she truly believed she was onto something! After all, these foot prints she discovered were quite large, most likely from something heavy. Smart too, from the looks of it. After all, these prints went in a circle. Most likely to throw her off it's trail. Clever...

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two bright yellow lights. Eyeballs! This had to be the creature, no doubt about it! With a loud yell that would give away any stealthy advantage she had, she leaped towards the source of the yellow eyes. "Prepare to fight, beast!" She hollered, quickly body slamming the thing into the ground. As she began to wrestle with it, she began to wonder how something so skinny and bony could scare off a bunch of creatures.

It wasn't until she heard the choke of the thing underneath her body that she realized this most certainly wasn't the beast. "Ghhk! Gerroff..!" The dark colored Ecaflip gasped out. He was scrambling and scratching at the ground, trying to pull himself out from underneath this heavy Iop.

"Oh whoops! Uh, sorry about that," Faetard said, quickly stumbling off of him. She then pulled him up with one hand in an effortless manner, which only dazed the already dizzied Malucard more. "Keep on your toes, though! I sense that the beast is somewhere around here."

Once he finally gathered his bearings, the Ecaflip shook his head, pulling away from her, with more success this time. "Look, you're weird, and obviously don't know where you are. But we shouldn't be out and about at night," He began explaining. "If it gets bad enough that whatever is out there attacks our city, the guards will handle it." He began to turn his body back towards the entrance, looking back at her as if encouraging her to follow. "How about you go to the guards and tell them and let them handle it instead?"

A loud laugh came from the Iop, cracking her knuckles. "What, and let them have all the fun?" Before the Ecaflip could voice his incredulous opinion on this matter, the two were interrupted by loud howling. Very loud. Neither one had no idea how big this thing was, but it sounded like it was quite close to the two. The two blinked and looked to each other. "I think it's close by," Faetard said.

"Then we need to go before it finds us!" Malucard whispered harshly, looking frightened and ready to high tail it out. Instead, Faetard gripped the Ecaflip's wrist and ran towards the source of the noise, much to his chagrin.

"I think it's the other way around! Hope you're ready for a fight," She exclaimed, already prepared to face whatever was out there. Malucard stared at her in utter disbelief. What was wrong with this girl?! He stumbled trying to keep up with her, but thankfully managed to stay on his feet for the most part.

It wouldn't be long before the two of them came across a clearing. Faetard figured that she must not have walked through it on her way up the mountain. Despite the fact that they were on a slope, the surrounded trees and plants were stomped down and torn apart, making everything look messy. Unfortunately for the both of them, the culprit of whoever deforested this part of the woods was still there, and it was standing right in front of them. Standing at an intimidating nine feet tall was something like looked like a Boowolf, but stood on it's two hind feet. It's claws were massive, about the size of Malucard's forearm. It's fur was unkempt and dirty, it's eyes glowing a bright red aura. A mixture of drool and blood dripped from it's massive maw, snarling it's large yellowed teeth.

"It's a Boowerewolf!" Malucard screamed out, his whole body shaking in fear. If it weren't for the fact that the Iop had a tight grip on his wrist, he would've ran like Hell. However, Faetard looked as determined as ever, finally letting go of him as she prepared her gauntlet armored fists.

"So, you thought you could terrorize the local wildlife and the city, huh? Time to teach you a lesson, foul creature!" Suddenly, the Iop would do a running leap towards the large creature, using her right fist to throw an incredibly painful looking jab in the Boowere's jaw. It let out a bark of pain, the force of her punch sending it a good couple of yards back. Faetard then latched herself onto the snout of the beast, continuing to beat against it's jaw with both fists. While it definitely hurt the lycan, it wasn't out of the fight just yet. It quickly gripped onto the Iop, making sure to hold her tightly so she couldn't escape. Before she could do anything, he threw her into the closest tree that was still standing, which was a few yards away. She yelled the whole time she flew, slamming directly into the tree. Dazed and knocked out for a little, she slide down to the base, not able to get up.

Malucard watched in awe and fear as the Boowerewolf made it's way over to her, taking it's time to savor cornering it's prey. It hadn't noticed the Ecaflip yet, giving him the perfect opportunity to escape and go get help. However, something was keeping him from doing just that. If he ran to get help, he was leaving this girl to get mauled. Who knew how long it would take for more help to arrive? But what could he do? He didn't even know how to fight, let alone a giant lycanthrope. He had to think of something quickly, though. Malucard gulped and felt around his pockets and pouches for something- anything- that could be of use.

He pulled out a single card from the deck he kept in his pouch. The ace of hearts. With the other hand, he reached to the ground and picked up a stone. Not big enough to do any actual damage to the Boowere, but that wasn't his goal. Giving a silent, small prayer to Ecaflip, Malucard reared his left arm back and threw the stone at the Boowerewolf's head. It smacked right against the back of it's skull, not effecting it in the slightest. The sensation would register, though, as it stopped in place and slowly turned it's head, trying to find out who, or what, just did that.

Before it could do anything about the rock throwing Ecaflip, Malucard threw the card that was in between two fingers in his left hand. With a certain flick of the wrist, and thanks to the wind being just right, the card spun and flew directly into the wolf's eye. The werewolf howled in pain, reaching up to slap a hand over it's pained eye, quickly pulling the card out and clenching it. Clearly it had hurt. Malucard couldn't help but grin a little as he managed to actually do something. His smile quickly turned into an expression of fear, though, since the Boowerewolf was now looking directly at him with it's one good eye, snarling in rage. It was obvious that it did not like that.

Fortunately for the Ecaflip, the Boowolf was distracted long enough for Faetard to regain her bearings and get back on her feet. Seeing the lycan's back turned, she took this as an opportunity to leap up and scream out, "I've got you now!" With both large, muscular legs wrapped around it's thick neck, choking it slightly, she began to bang both fists against it's head. Since she mostly aimed for the eyes, which injured and disoriented the lycan even more. It's only good eye now being punched in, Malucard was given another chance to do something.

The closest thing he had to an actual weapon was a small pocket knife. He flipped it out and hurried towards the beast. Knowing that it's ankles were uncovered and defenseless, he didn't waste time in jamming it straight into the back of his heel. The Boowerewolf roared loudly, immediately crashing down it it's knees. Malucard threw himself out of the way so that he wouldn't be tackled. Faetard kept pounding away at the Boowere's skull. Since she was still keeping it in a choke-hold as well, it was starting to waver in place, about ready to pass out. For a final move, the Iop launched herself up from the lycan's head and slammed herself back down onto him, slamming him down into the ground.

Once she climbed off, the Ecaflip quickly joined her side, looking over the now unconscious body of the lycanthrope. Both eyes were blacked and puffed out, it's heel bleeding out from an open wound, which also looked nasty. Malucard was lucky his knife was silver. The two were breathing heavily, still feeling exhilarated from their battle. Faetard smiled wide at the Ecaflip beside her. "That was awesome!" She began. "I knew that the two of us could do it, though," She giggled a bit, puffing her large chest out in pride again.

Malucard laughed a bit, still in disbelief that the two actually did manage to defeat the beast. "Yeah..! I think you did most of it though, with you and your big..." His eyes lingered over her chest for a second before he realized what he was doing. He brought them back up to her face, blushing quite red. "...fists," He finished dumbly. Faetard didn't notice this and nodded.

"Hey, you did great too!" She looked to the Boowerewolf, which lead Malucard to do the same. "So, what should we do with it now?"

"I say we tie it up. I dunno when it'll wake up, but if it does before the sun comes up, it won't be happy," The Ecaflip answered.

"Ropes aren't needed," Faetard responded, sitting herself on a nearby rock. "We'll just keep guard of it until morning. If it does wake up, we'll just whoop him again!" She smiled expectantly at him, as if waiting for him to say yes.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, too exhausted to argue with the Iop. "Very well," He sighed, sitting right next to her, resting his head in his hands.

"I'm Faetard, by the way," She greeted, extending her hand to him. Malucard raised an eyebrow at this, since he did remember her saying it back at the tavern. Of course, he had not introduced himself just yet. Since the opportunity revealed itself, he decided to go with it.

"Malucard," He replied simply, shaking her hand. He grimaced as she gripped his hand a lot tighter than she probably expected. He swears he could've heard bones crunching.

"A pleasure! What say you join me in my expedition to meet back up with my patrol group? I know that you'd be the perfect partner for me!"

The Ecaflip raised an eyebrow at this, looking into the beaming, expectant face of Faetard. On one hand, he's most likely to get killed by whatever she drags them into. He was lucky to have even survived the fight with the Boowerewolf without so much as a scratch. Not only that, he had plenty of responsibilities to attend to, and being away from the city would deprive him of them...

He sighed and shrugged, leaning forwards into his hands. "We'll see. For now, let's just make sure Fluffy here doesn't wake up anytime soon."

Accepting that as an answer, Faetard turned her attention back to the lycan as well, keeping an eye on it with someone she thought of as her new friend.

#wakfu #wakfu fanfiction #ocs #original characters #iop #ecaflip #dylan writes #new adventures from the world of twelve

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piggys-writing-blog · 6 years

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WoW Fiction- “The Night Before”

It was late at night, when the world was still and slow. The midnight sky was dark and vast; little specks of innocent light dotting its black expanse. One bright light hung above, pouring its silvery rays onto the land below. Many believed that light was sacred and pure. They worshipped it and called upon its power to augment their own. Talondressa used to be one of them.

Now, however, she stood on the balcony staring out at this sky, her arms folded and leaned against the metal railing. The only thing keeping her from jumping to her death. What would be the use, anyways? She would just come back afterwards. So there she stayed; several hundred, maybe even a thousand feet above ground, taking in what she could of the ebon night. If she focused, she could make out the faint energy of the stars. But the moon...there was no denying its power. Gentle and frigid, yes; but also strong. Thriving. Pulsing. The Moon Goddess she once served was still just as luminous and breathtaking as she had always been. The man she now served paled in comparison to her--she knew that well.

Regardless, she would always be indebted to Illidan. Nothing she could ever do would be enough to fully remunerate him. Many called him The Betrayer. A heretic. A criminal. He committed many crimes against the Night Elves, yes. But Talondressa, the others--they knew the truth. They knew the reasons behind their master’s seemingly ill-meant behavior. He was the only one out of them all who would even take action. Nothing would have changed; hell, most of the elves would not be alive now if it weren’t for him. His followers knew that. That’s why they served him. Because they knew they could unquestionably rely on him to follow through, unlike anyone else. He alone could and would change things. Born with amber eyes, Illidan Stormrage had always been destined for greatness. And here he was even now, after everything, still doing his damndest to make things right. Talondressa admired him so for this.

But it was more than that to her. Not only did he save the Night Elf race as a whole; she felt he had also saved her, personally. He’d dragged her out of the hopeless and desolate abyss she’d found herself in--that everyone found themselves in. He told her, and many others, to get up and brush herself off, and learn to fight for what needed to be fought for: Azeroth’s safety, and that of its inhabitants, great and small. Even after being labelled a criminal and a betrayer, and called a monster by the woman he loved after being rejected by her as well, his grand plan at the end of the day had never changed. Protect Azeroth, no matter the cost. After Talondressa lost her entire family and everyone she held dear, she felt as though her entire purpose for being alive had slipped away, too. But Illidan gave her a new purpose. And she became one of his Illidari.

With all this in mind, Talondressa had begun to wander the castle in silence. By now, she had ventured from her chambers and up the many tall, wide staircases of the Black Temple. Up she climbed, lost in her thoughts and worries. Visions of the past filtered through them, and she sent them away without a care. Those were old and irrelevant now. She held her head high and reminded herself of her ultimate goals: protecting her home, and obeying her master. It was all that mattered now.

Eventually she found herself at the very top of the citadel, the sky open and endless above her. The many torches were lit and blazing brightly, guiding her way across the large roof before her. She wondered why she had ended up there, but didn’t think much of it. That is, until she was suddenly overwhelmed by the presence of another. She stopped dead in her tracks, eyeing the dark, shadowed blob a few hundred feet away from where she stood. The silhouette was difficult to make out, but after focusing her gaze a bit harder, she was able to recognize the energy signature. The swirling emerald power radiating off of the figure was so great and terrifying, it sent a shiver through her. It was her master. The demon within her quietly chuckled to itself.

Still afraid of him, are we? it taunted her. She ignored it. Squaring her shoulders, she took step after step towards him in a cautious but precise manner. If he were to send her away, she would not argue. But perhaps...perhaps he wouldn’t mind some company? Never had he laid a hand against one of his Illidari, despite being rather rough with the demons and the Broken Draenei. He was strong and very powerful, and was definitely not a pushover. But he never used force unnecessarily. So, though her demon was technically correct in its musing, she wasn’t truly afraid of him. Just...extremely intimidated.

“Did you want something?” came Illidan’s inquiry, all of a sudden.

Talondressa stiffened with a small gasp. She immediately dropped to her knees, unable to remain standing in his presence. “S-sir,” she stammered, “I was just wandering the halls unable to sleep, and I happened upon you by accident. If you would like me to leave, I will not hesitate to do so.” She squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing as she waited for him to send her away.

Alright, so she was afraid of him.

The Illidari Master was silent for a moment, and Talondressa was unable to see his reaction, for her head was bowed.

“...what gave you the impression that I would ask you to leave?” he then asked, in an almost confused tone.

Talondressa slowly looked up at him, shock evident on her face. “I-I was afraid I might have disturbed you.”

“Then why did you approach me in the first place?” inquired her master, smirking.

The younger Illidari’s mouth opened and snapped shut again like a hungry fish. He definitely had a point. Her cheeks began to heat up and she hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, embarrassed.

A single, soft chuckle left him. Though it sounded more like a scoff, it was truly the closest thing to a laugh that she had ever heard come out of his mouth. Her eyes widened.

“Well, I won’t send you away, for now. Getting lost in my thoughts isn’t exactly something I enjoy. It’ll be nice to have a distraction, even if only for a moment.” The shifting of fabrics and the plop of a massive body setting itself upon the cold stone was heard. Illidan had sat down. Talondressa gazed at him again in confusion and gratitude as he patted the spot beside him once. With that, he turned his gaze to the sky and said nothing more.

Elated, the younger Illidari shuffled her way over to him, resting her own body upon the spot which he had indicated. It was so strange to be sitting beside him, as if they were equals. Her heart swelled and roared in excitement and uncontained emotions as so many things to say came to mind. She’d always had so much to tell him, to thank him for. There just weren’t enough words in the world.

None of this was spoken aloud, however, for she did not know if Illidan would want to hear them...or if he would even accept them. She kept it to herself once more, nearly exploding from the catastrophical amount of sentiments that were forced to remain within her.

Digging her nails into her palms, she tried and miserably failed to keep the tears in. Ah, yes. The tears. Sure, she had become one of the fiercest demon hunters around, and had lost or at the very least dulled most of her sensitivity to death and murder and the like--but that did not mean she didn’t cry over everything from seeing a cute rabbit in the forest to sitting beside the person she adored and respected most in the entire world. Blood trickled down her wrists; she had forgotten that her nails were now claws. Hundreds of years she’d spent harboring a large portion of a demon soul within her, and still she continued to forget that she also took on some of its physical features. She quickly hid her palms from view and took a breath, calming her tears as quietly as physically possible.

“Sometimes I envy those who can still express their emotions in such a manner,” Illidan mumbled suddenly, causing Talondressa to jump.

“Wh-what do you mean?” she asked him, bewildered, hastily rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands to erase any evidence of tears. She was sure there was no way he had actually seen her.

Her master turned his head and gazed down at her. “You. You’re crying.” He nodded once at her.

She simply stared at him in shock.

A sad smile played on his lips. It was so faint, it was barely even there. He let out a sigh and shook his head. Talondressa could tell he was troubled. She wondered if he would tell her or not. He seemed to be attempting to formulate words in his head, but nothing else came from him. He was silent. Eventually, he looked back up at the stars again, wordless.

Talondressa’s shoulders drooped. But it was at that moment when she caught sight of what was in his hand. It was a skull. Focusing harder, she was able to deduce that it was an Orc skull, or at least looked it. The Master looked down at it then, another sigh leaving him. His shoulders sank, too. Talondressa was extremely curious now. She decided to say something else, hoping it would eventually lead him to explaining what he’d meant by his previous statement.

“I was crying because...well, I’m grateful to you,” she said simply. “You’re my master and yet...here I am, sitting beside you.”

Illidan grunted. “Indeed, I am your master, but that does not mean you are not allowed to occupy the same space as I.” He glanced at her apathetically.

Talondressa felt herself smile at that. “Well, I’m grateful. I--we owe you so much, Lord Illidan. Our lives.”

Another grunt. He shook his head. “I’m just trying to make a real change in a world full of people too self-absorbed to do the same. You, and the rest of my Illidari, are the special few who followed me on this path because you share my ideals.”

Talondressa nodded. He was just being modest, but none of it was untrue.

Illidan took a small breath, hesitant before he finally went on. “...and...you know,” he took a moment to pause. “I’m...grateful to you, too. To all of you. Without you, I….” he trailed off, his eyes finding those stars again. Nothing more was said on the matter.

Still, just hearing those words from Illidan was enough to send her over the edge again, tears flowing endlessly from her fel-burned eyes. Her shoulders shook gently from the strain of trying to keep silent. She was embarrassed at herself for crying in front of him not once, but twice. She hoped at least this time he wouldn’t--

“You’re crying again,” Illidan noted, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. He hadn’t even moved.

“Gah,” Talondressa choked, a small sob leaving her. “I’m sorry.” Her words were barely audible.

Illidan heard them. He shook his head and stared at the faint power radiating off of the distant stars. “You’d better not cry like that tomorrow when you launch your assault on Mardum. Am I understood?”

“Y-yes sir,” Talondressa managed to say between sobs. She was hugging her knees now.

Illidan would offer her no comfort save for his presence, and a gentle smile that she would never see. “Good.”

#my writing #writing #fiction #world of warcraft fanfiction #world of warcraft rp #canon divergent rp #illidan stormrage #illidan #talondressa #emotions #feelings #gross

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btsimaginefactory · 6 years

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At the Beach with BTS - Moodboards and Scenarios

{{i’m sorry that these are messy but it was so hard trying to paint the picture without the board looking too busy and iM SORRY. It’s less “oo aesthetics” and more that these are to give you pics for your mind. But I hope you’re still into this💖}}

Seokjin

“Are you happy?”

You smile gently at Seokjin words, twining your fingers with his as you both sit on the riverbank. More than a dozen stripped box turtles, all in various sizes and ages, paddle cutely at the edge, waiting for more pieces of carrots to be throw from their generous new friends. “I am so happy Seokjin.”

Seokjin’s smile gleams in the light of the sunset, and he leans to kiss you on your temple. He’d wanted to go to the beach with you for a long time, and now you finally had the time. Seokjin rented a house situated strategically between the secluded shoreline and the marsh. What had drawn him to this beach was the privacy, yes, but it was also the beautiful variation of landscapes and an abundant amount of wildlife. In the morning you watched wild horses play on the beach from your balcony, naming each one and giving them elaborate back stories, narrating their interactions. Seokjin was startled by how close they came to the house and how at peace they seemed living side by side with humans.

Almost every afternoon was spent under the umbrella on the sand with packed lunches; idly fishing for minnows before letting them free again as you watch the vibrant sunset over the horizon, and nights spent counting endless stars.

“Listen I’m telling you, THAT one is the big dipper,” you stress.

“No, it’s not because that star should be over there if it’s the big dipper!”

“...Jin you can’t just move stars around to prove yourself right.”

Several days the two of you went to local shops, exploring all the beautiful and wacky things you could find. He was especially drawn to a hobby shop that had all kinds of intricately made sculptures from shells and driftwood. Seokjin commented that he liked he couldn’t find any two alike, and in that same way he could never find someone exactly like you who he loved so much. A slap is quickly delivered to his arm at his gushy words, making him laugh, but getting a kiss from you in the end.

Yoongi

“Yoongi you do realize coming to the beach in the winter kind of defeats the purpose of coming to the beach,” you sigh, looking out the sliding glass doors of your hotel room overlooking the ocean shore. He’s already outstretched on the giant king-sized bed, humming in satisfaction when you come and kick his leg.

“Ow sheesh,” he exclaims, eyes meeting your crestfallen face. “Okay well, I did in fact plan this very carefully and invested many hours to make things perfect.”

He rolls over and leans down to his bag, pulling out some pieces of paper and holding them in front of his gummy grin. You have to squint, but the bright letters of a pamphlet for a well know indoor water park is undeniable.

“NO WAY,” you gasp, snatching them out of his hands and rifling through the packet. “Are you serious?”

He nods.

“Really really? As in you’re actually gonna play with me and not be a lazy potato chip?”

“I am! I promise,” he laughs. “Why do you think I spent so much time picking stuff out for us to do? Don’t you see the view,” he gestures dramatically at the balcony. You can’t help but laugh and pull his cheeks in for a kiss, making him look very pleased.

Yes it was true you’d agreed to go to the beach with Yoongi during the dead of winter, but the surprise and lively atmosphere you found was exactly what the two of you needed. The hotel was connected to the water park by an indoor bridge, and surprisingly, Yoongi cared the giant inflatable unicorn proudly each day, bopping you in the head with it constantly. After swimming and playing, and him throwing you down one to many insane waterslides, you crash in the hotel room with warm comfort, room service, and movies.

Yoongi kisses your forehead and smiled as you lay in his arms. “So should we do the same thing tomorrow or should we go see some of the other things around here?”

Hoseok

When you were looking for a place to rent at a nearby beach online, Hoseok was immediately drawn to the strip of brightly colored buildings on the boardwalk. “Let’s go there! That’s so pretty! And there’ll be lots of places to go.” And so you did, spending loads of time in different shops, buying way too many souvenirs, and an equal time relaxing on the beach.

It was probably a bad idea to suggest a sandcastle building competition because 3 hours later you realized you’d both spent the whole day building a mini-utopia; giving up the competition after signing a treaty to no more sand thrown and opting instead to build your own joined kingdoms. Hoseok desperately tried to save one crumbling wall as the tide came in, but sank to his knees in defeat, promptly having a wave crash over his head from behind as if to add insult to injury. He comes crying to you as you laugh at his dripping wet, salty face, but is sure to trap you in a hug to get you wet as well.

“Baby how about we just shower and order takeout,” he suggests when you arrive at the condo, panting after climbing the 3 flights of stairs.

“How can you be tired from that, you literally can dance nonstop for way longer,” you huff, throwing a towel in his face.

After taking a soothing shower together, the two of you crash on the bed with your take out and TV, while finding all the little red areas you missed with sunscreen where each of you were now burned. “See I told you-you should have put some behind your ears,” he scolds and you simply cover his face with your hands.

“Shh, shh, shh, don’ worry ‘bout it.”

Namjoon

It was the best surprise you’ve ever gotten in your life. When you told Namjoon you were staying at the beach with your family, expressing that you wished he could be there to experience it with you, he decided to do just that. After secret communications with your family, seemingly out of the blue he shows up at your door and you almost knock him over completely in your enthusiastic hug. You introduce him formally to your family, and they immediately like him, if only by the way you glowed around him. They realize quickly he must be an incredible person and one who was absolutely good for you.

Being able to share this important time with him was everything; watching him grow comfortable with everyone, and hiding in embarrassment at all the stories they spilled from your childhood; everything felt so at home about him. The next day you were dragging him out of bed much too early to spend it all with him on the beach. Needless to say he was terrified when you warned him about not swimming in the ocean because of sharks, but he excitedly dug for sand-fiddlers and mole crabs, putting them in a bucket and examining them before letting them free again. That very evening, you two were lucky enough to watch sea turtles hatch, lining up with the other people watching, and giving them a protected path to the ocean as Namjoon squeals in delight.

Every night was filled with good meals and laughter, playing in the heated pool under the stars, and cuddling up in bed sharing stories, relishing that you had him there in the flesh. He pushes your hair behind your ear as he cradles you in his arms. “I wish I could stay here with you forever.”

“Me too Namjoon,” you say with a sad smile, trying not to even think of this time together ending.

“But we will soon.”

Jimin

It wasn’t Jimin’s most favorite idea when you told him you had booked a shared home at the beach; he didn’t know if he felt comfortable staying with strangers. It was an older couple who, after their children grew up and left, opened up a section of their house for travelers so they could share this place with people from all around the world. Jimin agrees though, and in only a few hours of being there, he was so glad that he did.

When you arrive at the bungalow nestled in the seaside forest, the couple takes you on a tour around the house, and more importantly, outside on one of the many trails. After getting over that initial little bit of awkwardness, you and Jimin didn’t turn down a single activity they suggested, for all of them were so perfectly new and exciting. You slowly watched Jimin come out of his shell, bouncing around like the happy, adventurous boy you loved. His favorite part was kayaking through the marsh and inlet, canopied by tall, vibrant trees, and hundreds of different species of birds chattering amongst the reeds.

“Woah look at that one,” Jimin yells in a hushed voice, pointing at a bright white, gangly crane fishing at the bank. “Did you see how it just snapped it’s beak in there and grabbed the fish? It was so fast, like whoosh! I could probably do that.”

“... Jimin what are you even saying?”

“It’s because you don’t believe in me, that's why I can’t grab a fish out of the water with my bare hand.”

You have to stop your eyes from rolling all the way back into your head as he giggles. When you return to the house, you’re all gathered around a fire pit in the backyard to eat dinner, eagerly telling the couple all about where you were from. You fall asleep on his shoulder as you lay beneath the stars, peacefully breathing in the salty air and wondering what tomorrow will bring.

Taehyung

“Greece?!”

“Greece!”

You can only pause. “Greece?”

Taehyung nods in confirmation. “Greeeeeece!” He’d seen a picture float across the internet somewhere of this beautiful resort, and he immediately knew he had to take you. Taehyung is one who is always ready for an adventure and travel, so he expects you to be the same. The resort is at the foot of a mountain, the bright blue sea as a backdrop, making the large sanded smooth white buildings look majestic and nothing short of magical. You have a cabin to yourselves, one in front of a small private pool that glowed purple in the evening; one that you convinced him to go skinny dipping in. It’s easy to have fun with Taehyung, even in a foreign place, but he takes special care to make the trip especially romantic and appreciative. He pampers you like royalty and announces that you are going to be his official model for all his pictures he had yet to take.

“Wow you are a natural,” Taehyung chuckles as he snaps a picture of you posed beneath a twisted tree. “I didn’t even have to tell you what to do.”

“Practice makes perfect I suppose, and so does such a handsome teacher,” you say, pecking his lips. The day is spent on the sand under a large tent, and yes you did have to wait before starting to drink your fancy drink because he wanted to photograph it all, but with his cute grin how could you say no?

Jungkook

“Jungkook don’t you think this is a bit much,” you ask, setting your bag down in the foyer just as Jungkook runs past you around the expansive dining room.

“No no of course not! We’re only young once; when else would we have this opportunity? Come on,” he grabs your hand and pulls you along, peeking in every room as if looking for something. After ‘oo-ing’ and ‘aw-ing’ at the bright coral walls and happy paintings, you head downstairs to find perhaps the biggest reason your boyfriend rented this particular beach house.

“Oh my gosh now I get it,” you say, holding the bridge of your nose but getting equally excited as you’re greeted with a giant arcade room. A flat screen tv, new video games as well as classic arcade games, a ping pong table, and even a pool table were all sitting shiny and tempting and Jungkook is giggling like a kid in a candy store.

You barely have time to reach him before his eyes meet something outside the window in the backyard. “Oh. My. Gosh. There’s a jet ski,” he whispers, instantly bolting towards the door with you yelling behind him.

“Jungkook for God’s sake please don’t kill yourself!!”

You’d thought it was a little wasteful to rent a three-story house with 8 bedrooms for only the two of you, but he quickly washes away your worries with the private pool and access to the dock with a jet ski and kayaks, as well as running around the large house and screaming your lungs out just because there was no one there to stop you. The house was at the end of a small, private cul de sac, and a mere golf cart ride to the shore. It was quieter than you would’ve imagined you’d enjoy, but as you sit on the crows nest overlooking the inlet, watching Jungkook photograph the sunset, you couldn’t imagine anywhere else on earth you’d rather be.

{{I’ve actually experienced three of these imagines AND IF YOU CAN CORRECTLY GUESS WHICH THREE, YOU GET *spins roulette wheel anxiously* ... ah... ha ha... apparently to punch me in the d💫}}

-Admin Chaejeong

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