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theladyismyshepard · 4 months

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Hi there I haven't requested anything here in almost 2 years now and I won't lie I miss it, so if it's alright can I ask for Astarion and shadowhearts separate reaction to the Reader who is a magic user coming from a different world where magic is seen as a disease and those who have control of it are marked with a lightning like mark on their cheek

(Similar to the bearer mark from FF16)

I actually have a dusty old draft that's been collecting 2 years worth of cobwebs and it's a WIP that haunts me every time I see it when I open my drafts... and that just so happened to be a request of yours @adryanscott... so for you? Anything at all. The outline seems a little different, but bear with me

Tags: Mentions of abuse, torment, descriptions of chronic illness, Bearer enslavement canon to FF universe

Will You Be My Final Fantasy?

You were but a child when the magic lying dormant beneath your skin burst forth, crackling at your fingertips and ready to be cast. You were but a child when you yourself was cast away by your own parents, your entire world shifting upside down when you were sold off to the highest bidder. Gaia did not feel too much like home anymore, not when the people you had come to know as family and friends looked upon you with such disdain. The neck-breaking pace of which you had gone from carefree to chained was a shellshock that you were forced to adapt quickly to lest you learn the lesson of just how expendable you really were to your own people. At first, it had cut you so deep down that it pierced your soul.

Once the branding tattoo had marked the flesh of your cheek to signify the power brewing underneath, you were scorned. The people of Gaia thought you to be diseased and more monster than human. They feared your power and what you might be capable of, so they had come up with the idea of the bearer mark. Not only did it act as a red flag to warn others that you possessed natural magic and that you were owned, it dulled your powers in a painful way that left you with a permanent uncomfortable itch just beneath your skin. No amount of scratching or tearing away at the skin of your cheek would bring you relief, and at first, your struggle provided a great source of amusement for your enslavers until you began slacking on the quality of your duties.

As the years gave way to decades, the fiery fury that fueled your desire to see another day had slowly begun dwindling. You felt as if you yourself was an upturned hourglass, and with each grain of sand that flowed with time, your hope for something better faded with it. All you were living for was an end… an end to your torment, an end to your captors, an end to your miserable existence. You weren’t sure if you’d call yourself lucky or not that your Masters demanded back-breaking physical labor from you rather than casting spells at their convenience. With each draw of your magic, you felt a stiffening in your bones that brought with it a deep chill that was impossible to ward off. Maybe you were diseased…

The day had started as any other had in the past couple decades, with you rising in time with the sun to get prepared for a gruesome day of withering yourself away to nothing. As you glanced up to the sky to watch the first peeks of sunlight bleeding into the blanket of night, you couldn’t help the furrow of your brow when you noticed a small tear. Your lips parted, but as you took a step forward for a closer look to assure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating, there was an audible ripping sound as the tear in the sky widened into a large hole. Before you could even feel fear chill the blood in your veins, there was a gigantic ship soaring through, and across the horizon. You had never seen such a horrific-looking vessel that had long, flowing tentacles such as the one overhead at the moment, and your flight instincts kicked you into overdrive as it veered in your direction.

There was no time to register the long, fluid shadow of the tentacle hovering over you before it struck, and all you could do was watch on in horror as your hands began to disintegrate. First, you lost feeling in your fingers before the cracks broke apart your wrists, leaving nothing in its wake. The disintegration process didn’t take long to travel along the lengths of your forearms and up your biceps, and no amount of harsh gasps of air could pull enough breath into your lungs. You were fading fast. As your arms disappeared, you began to choke on the tightness in your chest before ash peppered your tongue and lodged itself along the walls of your throat. With a final gurgle, your eyes disintegrated and darkness enveloped you until there was nothing left.When you had awoken, you discovered yourself in a world where nearly everyone wielded magic. It was a culture shock that left you reeling, and even though you witnessed open displays of magic, even from some of your own party members, with no repercussions involved, you didn’t feel safe enough to expose yourself for what you were.

Shadowheart –

Even as you found yourself drawn towards Shadowheart, and felt yourself relating to the air of mystery (you understood better than anyone the need to bury the past and never let anyone see), you were so traumatized and so used to being seen as an animal to be used until broken that you could not speak the words. You were too fearful of being cast away yet again.

When Shadowheart had kissed you after revealing some of her own memories, you had tasted the bitterness of both the wine and of your own backstory on your tongue. It was the perfect moment to open up to the cleric, especially when you had never seen her eyes look so soft as they did when they gazed upon you at that moment. She had even asked you about your Bearer’s mark…but panic had seized control over any inklings of rationality you had left, and you had mumbled something about “everyone else had one” and “giving into the peer pressure”… The romantic atmosphere didn’t go any further than that, and you were grateful because the tightness in your chest proved too distracting to properly worship Shadowheart’s body. As you learned more and more of Shadowheart and who she affiliated herself with, you gauged other people’s reactions and deduced that her magic was frowned upon by many.

Her head never ducked beneath the weight of heated gazes sent her direction, and she never faltered at barbed words spat at her. You were in awe of how confident and self-assured she seemed in her worship, and you felt the connection between you two surpassing just your ability to relate. You admired Shadowheart to the point where you wanted to be more like her. You wanted to be free… But as you glanced between the woman you had come to care for and the shackled Nightsong, you couldn’t help thinking that Shadowheart was the true one in chains. To give blood, sweat, and tears your entire life and still have to fight through fire for any scraps of approval… it sounded too close to home for you. And if you yourself could never be free of the chains still holding you to Gaia, you would fight like hell to rid Shadowheart of hers.

You knew talking her down would prove challenging, but what you didn’t expect was how easily you had revealed your magic to the indignant woman. It was the accusation of you being clueless and ignorant spat so venomously at you that did you in. What do I know?! What do you know?! And it was the same moment your irritation boiled over that you remembered that she would never know if you refused to say something. Before she could turn her assault back onto the Nightsong, you sent a wave of your worst memories through your connection, and you were so overwhelmed yourself that you didn’t notice Shadowheart falter.

You can smell the leather of bootstraps as your bones snapped beneath heavy stomps. You can feel the sting of your open wounds rubbed with salts. You can hear the mocking laughter as your body writhes in a pool of your own blood. The stench of your boiled flesh was so pungent that you could almost taste it. There was a gnawing hunger that threatened to eat away at your stomach, and after a while, any thought of food would make you sick enough to dry heave. Through it all, there was the constant heartbeat in your cheek where the mark was tattooed. Sometimes you fear that the poison used in crafting the ink had seeped into your very pores and was burning you from the inside out. You were itchy, and so very stiff… And you couldn’t tell anyone. Keep your pain hidden. No one can help you. They’ll all hate you. You’ll be sent ba–

There were hands cradling your face, and the abrupt touch had you jolting out of your memories. Shadowheart was standing before you with tears welling up in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Concern and anger had flared across your connection as she glanced you up and down, desperately searching you for any lingering wounds or scars. Her eyes stopped on the lightning-shaped mark on your cheek, and you felt her thumb trace the skin below it, too hesitant to cause you additional hurt. You hiccuped as you became emotional at finally revealing the extent of your torment to the woman you loved. Your hands were shaking as you reached up to loosely grasp at her wrists, and she curled one hand around the back of your neck to bring your foreheads together.

“Never again,” Shadowheart swore thickly past her own tears, “No one will ever harm you again, not for this, not for anything…”

Your shoulders shook as an impending panic attack loomed over you.

You were taught to be ashamed of who you were, that you were less of a being and deserved the world’s spite just for being alive. You had watched people just like you call upon their magic one time too many, and the stiffness in their bones overtook them and morphed them completely into stone before withering away to dust. You were afraid of yourself for a very long time, and here this woman stood before you with nothing but love and sorrow on her face. Sorrow for what you had gone through, sorrow that you felt forced to hide from her, sorrow for you thinking you were anything less than perfect. She leaned up to place the gentlest kiss you’ve ever felt on your mark, and butterflies filled your stomach as your heart started racing.

“You have always been magnificent… I love you,” Shadowheart insisted earnestly, both of her hands now holding you close by the back of your neck, “And magic or no magic could make me need you any less, I assure you… Could you ever hate me for my magic?”

“Wh- No!” You rush to insist, but your shoulders deflate as her point reaches you… Maybe it was time to finally let yourself believe that you were really out of that place, and you never had to go back.

“I know what it’s like when something is too hard to let yourself believe… but you’ve helped me to see that there just might be the sweetest of rewards in doing so,” Shadowheart said before capturing your lips in a kiss intended to banish all doubt, and when she pulled away, she finally turned back to the Nightsong with nothing but sympathy in her heart.

You watched on in amazement as Shadowheart broke three sets of chains all at the same time.

— — — — — — — —

Astarion —

Despite the fact that a vampire had threatened to kill you in self-defense and still joined your party, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully open up. Each time his silky smooth words were close enough to reach you, your chest would seize up, keeping any and all secrets trapped within. As the weeks turned into months, you and Astarion had grown closer along the dusty trail. You had helped him to feel safe enough to confide in you about Cazador and the torments he had endured by his Master’s hand. You had felt your own misery and pain bubbling within your vocal chords, just begging to be released and revealed to the vampire. If anyone could understand the years of enslavement you had gone through because of your magic, it would be Astarion.

But throughout decades of cruelty, punishment, and humiliation, the one thing you never learned how to endure was being looked at as if you were something to be treasured rather than exploited. You knew where to cover when the blows started coming, you knew how to disassociate when the hunger set in, you knew what it was like to be more dead on the inside than on the outside… But you didn’t know how to react to any display of affection. How were you supposed to respond? You never quite learned how to convey compassion or how to accept it, and all you could do was curse yourself when you’d notice his shoulders slump the tiniest bit before his signature smirk was back in place to hide his own vulnerability.

But you had seen the smallest glimmer of how truly broken Astarion was, and now that you did, there was no unseeing it. Every sugary drawl, every deflecting answer, every flirtatious banter, it was all a facade, one that always seemed two steps away from crumbling. You wanted to help him, to fill in every fissure of his cracked heart with your presence until the very idea of Cazador was gone from his being, but you still felt too diseased yourself. When your fingers itched to reach out and comfort him when you’d notice the foggy haze of the past clouding over his eyes, you’d instead lift them to scratch at your burning bearer’s mark.

And bless him, Astarion had asked you about the tattoo one night after you had let him feed from you. You two were lying side-by-side as you gazed up into the vast blanket of stars, and there was a comfortable silence between you two that had only been broken by the question. He made no immediate comment even though you knew he felt you tense up next to him and you greatly appreciated it, especially knowing his penchant for starting trouble and watching others flounder in it. Before you could even attempt to think quickly on your feet, his hand had snuck down between your bodies to grab yours, and you were the one linking your fingers, squeezing his grip as the tension left your body. Only when he felt you fully relaxed did he assure you that that sounded like a topic better suited for another time. Your clasped hands never let go, even as you two fell asleep.

When your travels had brought the party to Baldur’s Gate, it was a chaotic mess with people wedged into any and every crevice. There were murderous cultists, sneaky thieves, and Astarion’s “sibling” spawns lurking about. The vampire tried his hardest to appear unaffected by the warnings, and he was successful to those on the outside looking in, but the tadpole connection was a deeper rooted relationship that proved nearly impossible to withdraw from. His emotions were a waged war, going back and forth and back again, and you so badly wanted to reach out and grab his hand to comfort him just as he did for you, but you had the same suspicion that this was a topic better suited for another time.

But you felt it, boy did you feel it through your connection… The same haunting feeling that clung to your bones, the chronic illness that stiffened your joints and left you too restrained in your own body, the horrific notion that you would never really belong to yourself, not ever again. Astarion’s back was rigid the entire way to camp, all traces of his charismatic aura gone. He was on edge, and would remain so forever until his Master was defeated, releasing him from the invisible chains still binding him. The rest of the party knew well enough to give him space (though everyone pretty much had their own problems they were in the middle of overcoming), but you would not leave him to wallow in the burning itch to go forth and rip, tear, kill…

You had the sense to bump up the urgency of seeking out Cazador’s lair and striking him down in Astarion’s name… but if he was as powerful as led to believe, and if there would be a chance of losing each other, that night wouldn’t be for Cazador, it would be for you and your love for Astarion, for him and his love for you. If he required a night of distraction to get him to the impending final showdown the next day, you would offer whatever he needed; If he needed blood, if he needed words, if he needed your body… With each gentle kiss that you placed on his skin, he seemed a little less further away. And as you watched him cum and was immediately brought to your own peak as well, you knew then that you would do anything to free this beautiful man.

You let that thought guide you as Astarion was forced under Cazador’s influence once more. The sight of him entrapped in the red beacon of his Master’s control had petrified you. To reach his full Ascension, Cazador had to absorb the special spawns’ life source, reducing them to a pile of ash, and you were paranoid with each attack he unleashed, each time he opened his mouth, that he would utter the spell to take Astarion away from you. When you could no longer withstand the mental torment, you raised your hand, and watched the magic crackle to life at your fingertips. Your cheek was burning, and you could see from your peripheral that your lightning-shaped mark was glowing, but you didn’t let it dissuade you. You were on a mission to save your lover, and you would use everything in your arsenal to do it, including your magic, even if it crystalized you in the process.

Your party members were thoroughly surprised to see you casting spells, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when Cazador was staggering on bended knee before attempting to rush back to his coffin. As Astarion dropped to the ground, he wasted no time in chasing after to peel the lid away before Cazador could begin healing himself. A weight lifted from your own chest when Astarion drove a dagger through his biggest nightmare over and over until his own sobbing pain began bleeding dry. He was free… and you will be, too…

As you stiffly knelt at Cazador’s dead body, right beside Astarion– always beside Astarion– you cupped his cheek with one hand, and grabbed the back of his neck with the other before bringing him into the sweetest of kisses. You scratched at the hairs at the base of his neck and before you could talk yourself out of it, you released all of your memories through your connection. You felt his gasp on your lips, but you pressed on, he deserved to know your biggest secret considering he shared his with you. He needed to know that you saw him… far deeper that he originally knew. You could taste his tears even after he pulled away.

“Oh darling…” Astarion whispered, his throat raw from screaming himself hoarse while boiling over, “I hate that you understand a little more than others… and I hate that such a beautiful soul like yourself has been bruised so heavily.”

You sagged into him before hugging him tightly. He began petting your hair and cooing praises into your ear, pressing an occasional kiss to your forehead every so often. You eventually craned your neck and caught his lips into a kiss, and if he couldn’t sense the love through it, you made sure to spread the warmth through your tadpole connection. His lips curled into a smile wide enough to break the kiss before he collected himself enough to pepper a handful of quick kisses onto your own bashfully grinning mouth.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me–well…” His eyes momentarily cut down to Cazador’s body before meeting yours unwaveringly. “And I would continue to love you lifetimes after you were gone, only hoping you would return to me again someday.”

He dropped a reverent kiss to the back of your hand, brought you into one last searing kiss, and moved to stand, helping you up as he went. Astarion had a way of making you feel so safe and loved, even when exposing yourself, your body and your secrets. He would always assure you that he has his own skeletons in his closet… but at least they were finely dressed might he add.

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1moremilgram-enjoyer · 8 months

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Thus commences the last in the "Haru bugs FF about Milgram" series, with only two more characters to put on the table !! ...Huh? Ask in my inbox? What ask in my inbox, I have no idea what you're talking about !! Aha !! Ahahahaa !! (i swear i'm getting to answering it i'm sorry for the wait) The last two on the list is Green Anime Baby (/ref) and Schrodinger's Sexuality, both of which you have already talked about before but this can serve as an opportunity to say whatever else is on your mind regarding them

The end of an era, really. The final two people.

Take your time on my ask! It's pretty hard to get so many thoughts on these characters in words, because there's a lot to them, so.

CW: Internalized homophobia, suicide and murder, cults and indoctrination, child abuse, heavy Amane apologism.

EDIT: On second read, I may have come off a bit strong with the Amane apologism. Keep in mind most of it’s hyperbole. I recognize her actions are morally grey, that’s the fun of it, but this isn’t a serious analysis. This is a collection of brainrot, and so I’m letting myself indulge in mindless Amane apologism, hope it’s not too much of a bother.

Let's start with Kazui. The (allegedly) gay (possibly) aromantic old man. Yeah, the aro/gay reading has grown on me since I made that Cat post. Though I'm biased towards the aro thing for obvious reasons.

Anyways, I like him! For the final time there is the issue of sexual attraction being a decently big part of someone's character, and me not really being able to relate to that, but at least this one has the whole thing about lying and societal expectations which makes it a bit more interesting for me. I personally have never had any big issues with my sexuality after I figured it out, but I can sympathize with his struggles to an extent. More than I can sympathize with Mahiru anyways.

I am always inclined to like characters who lie a lot, because it makes them more interesting to analyze. I tend to prefer when they aren't constantly telling everyone they're a liar, but Kazui isn't as annoying about it as some other characters (if I can like Kokichi I'll survive Kazui's thing). Kazui is cool because there's always the tiny doubt in my mind that maybe we're making a horrible horrible mistake by voting him inno this trial, but the more logical part of me knows that really isn't the case probably.

Shame his songs aren't really my kinda thing. I like Cat well enough, and I think half is good too, they're just not what I usually listen to.

I think it's funny his first instinct in his first VD was to try and apprehend Es, very funny guy. In particular, I think one of the most hilarious things that I've seen from Milgram so far is when someone before the release of Cat shipped him with the bartender just so Milgram could have a "Gay or European" parody, which is great, watch it if you haven't, and then it became canon (in theory).

As you know, I'm currently voting him Innocent, not just because of the whole "defending the others" thing, but because he clearly regrets what he did, he didn't mean to kill Hinako in the first place, so while what he did was pretty shitty, I don't think it's completely unforgivable.

I'm honestly coming up a bit blank on what to say about him other than the stuff I've sorta already talked about. I'll talk about the interrogations later, because right now I'm sorta distracted... by her.

Look at her!!!!

Look at how silly she is!!! She is not mentally stable but she slays that insanity look!!!

There's more of them??? This is fantastic!!! I love that for her!!!

Look at how happy she is, going to commit first degree murder!!! Yes, go literally slay queen! Kill 'em! Make them suffer >:D!!

(That last image and her murder shot may be my favorite Milgram frames btw)

I love her a lot a lot. To make it clear to you, I like her about as much, if not even more, than Min. Yeah, that's the critical levels of brainrot we're dealing with here.

She's just so fantastic honestly. Her entire story and personality and capital S Silliness is just fascinating, I could think and talk about her forever. It's hard for me to put into words, because I think about her and I start vibrating. Hands are shaking because Amane too awesome.

Amane is the reason why I even got into Milgram in the first place, you know? Like, I was seeing it pop up around my dash every now and then, but I was content to kinda ignore it... until I started seeing fanart of this weird little girl standing in an army of clones, and she looked a little... a little silly you know? I wanted to see what the deal was, and so I started obssessing over Milgram, so.

And what a time to join. Purge March may not be my favorite song musically (it's probably fifth after Backdraft, MeMe, Harrow and Bring it On. Magic is a bit below that but I also like that one), but it's probably overall my favorite MV of the series. Amane's an incredibly interesting character, the visuals are awesome, and lyrically it's amazing. Literally my only complaint is that it isn't longer, like please under three minutes? The shortest fucking MV in the series?! Evil /lh

One of my favorite Milgram lines in general is:

After you cry, repent, and kneel, it’s now your turn to say that hopeless “I’m sorry” You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please, go ahead and die already!

Just the almost jarring shift from "like our religion ordains, everything will be back to normal if you just apologize and repent :)" to "I don't care what you do, I hate you and I want you dead" is fuckaingadjk yes Amane go go go kill 'em! I don't care if you try to excuse your actions by twisting your cult's teachings so much you actually contradict them! That just makes it even better!

Yeah my sense of morality cannot properly process Amane's crimes as actually evil. Honestly she could kill the entire cast and I'd forgive her. Sounds like a skill issue on their part not gonna lie. Just let her stab Shidou, come on! Let her brainwash Fuuta! If she has DID, then let one of the alters not afflicted by Milgram rules stab Es! I think that'd be very funny.

God, she's just asodak`+ anda alsldk

Sorry, I'm normal again <- Kazui-core statement (aka a lie).

Amane's just really awesome. I can't properly make a character analysis here because I will simply explode and I'd like to survive to see her third trial MV. I think I'll love it no matter what it is, but I do have some things I would particularly adore. Bassically I just want her to go feral, just- just go insane. My inner Veronika in full swing, I wanna see a play by play of her murder and just her covered in blood and screaming like yeah girl beat 'em up! I've seen some people suggest she should just turn into a monster in her MV and that would be so awesome. I am so immensely normal about her holy fuck do you understand.

Obviously I think she should be voted Innocent this trial. Because I'm pretty sure there's just no coming back from a second Guilty, so we're essentially dooming her and irreversably breaking her psyche. Shidou will probably survive any physical wounds she could possibly inflict, but I'm not entirely sure Amane would be able to recover after a Guilty. I also have a full draft talking about all the ways voting her Guilty just to protect Shidou could go wrong (Fuuta could attack in her place/there's a chance it wouldn't even stop Amane/Amane could sabotage medical equipment even while Guilty/Amane might still have the "first stage of physical restraints" from Trial 1 making a second Guilty redundant/DID could let her skip over the rules/etc). So overall I think Innocent is by far the better option, and I hope the way she's bleeding Inno percentage is some sort of statistical quirk and not her actually losing ground on absolute terms...

... But.

Listen, an inno is absolutely the best option in my mind. But if she gets voted Guilty, after I cry for a few months straight...

I am going to be so excited to see what she does in Trial 3. My inner Veronika coming out again, I wanna see how bad she gets. The more terrible and feral she becomes, I'll only love her more. I want to see all the horrible things she's willing to do and say without justification (/ref). God Kami-sama I need therapy.

Ehem. Anyways, I like Amane a lot.

And there's the dynamics, the dynamics! I've already brainrotted about her and Fuuta a bit on his post, but holy shit I love them so much. I want them to get out of Milgram and be silly together. They really are the siblings ever. Fuuta would introduce Amane to all sort of online and self-indulgent stuff she probably wouldn't have had access to before, helping her reconnect with her own desires and happiness, and Amane would try to get him to touch some grass and fail miserably. They are probably my favorite prisoner duo overall; they're both already silly on their own, and their silliness is multiplied exponentially when they are together.

Like, you gotta understand. It's not just that they are objectively hilarious together and they should hang out all the time always. There's also the parallels. Have you ever noticed how they both present themselves as heroes in their own ways (knight and magical girl)?

That they both want nothing more than to impress the very people who are pushing them to do bad things?

[Magic] I hope, I hope everyone can be happy and smile

[Backdraft] Tolerate, impress those spectators

The way Fuuta sees judgement as fire while Amane sees it as rain?

And justavs jas doj oq

God I am exploding I am going crazy like O2 I'm burning myself into oblivion I'm undeniably inequivocally definitely completely insane-

Okay I'm calm now. I need to stop thinking about 0308 parallels because I will simply combust. So we're moving on to-

Oh fuck the Es parallels too!

Amane: We’ve talked about this before. There are things more important than the law. That would be our teachings. Es: I won’t acknowledge you turning such selfish rules into a standard of judgment. I won’t allow it. End of story. A: … E: Both religion and faith are free. However, a doctrine can’t become a universal standard of judgment. A: You fool. Isn’t Milgram trying to enforce a new standard of judgment precisely because laws cannot guide this world onto the right path? Are you still being weighed down by the law?

E: Shut your mouth…! I am the one casting the judgements here! A: Hehehe. And how does that set you apart from us?

A: “We”? What’s “we”? Are you not just “I”? E: … I…? A: Aren’t we the same? Me and Warden-san. You know, I’m aware that I’m out of the ordinary. That my environment was peculiar, and that everyone else is normal.

What if I just ascend into another realm? What then? Can I still post my silly little thoughts from the world beyond?

Listen, there's so much to talk about with these two. I've already said I'm a sucker for protag foils, and Amane may be the most direct foil Es has alongside Fuuta and possibly Kotoko. Not to even mention their sibling dynamic, too, only matched in awesomeness by 0308!

E: No matter what you do, no matter how grown-up you behave – you’re a child. That’s an unchangeable truth. A: You’re a child, too! E: Wrong. I’m fifteen, so I’m an adult in Puerto Rico and Haiti. You’re twelve, so you’re a child no matter the country. A: …!! E: Hehe. You look angry. A: I don’t. E: You do. A: I don’t!

Actual sibling behavior what the hell. I think they should stick together if they get outta the hell prison.

Honestly it's ridiculous how awesome this girl is. I could talk about her and her parallels with all prisoners for days straight. I am not normal about her.

It's not even the prisoners either! Like, have you heard of the Sacred Texts, the godforsaken fucking cat parallels?! I'm going crazy just thinking about them. The only reason I haven't posted 15000 different posts about it is because Amane PhD haver Dr purgemarchlockdown has already talked about it so much. But they are so incredible. Animal cover goes hard, too. I have to listen to all of those at some point.

I will be so upset if she doesn't end up Innocent this trial (not as in mad, as in extremely depressed and a bit mad). I've even tried to cope by thinking of how it's mathematically possible she's actually been getting more Inno votes than Guilty but her percentage is dropping anyways due to statistical quirks and please tell me once the percentage stabilizes it will hover around like 53% give me some graphs I want to try to make some predictions please augh-

Anyways I need to calm down or I will never be able to post this.

So let's look at interrogation questions! New ones come out soon, yeah? I'm excited to talk about them when it happens (and after someone translates lol). Kazui first!

(T1) Q2: Is there anyone you hold in high esteem?

K: You wouldn't know them, but I have a childhood friend. I really look up to them. Sorry for bringing up someone you'd have no clue about.

(T1) Q17: What would you do if the world ends tomorrow?

K: I would lazily do some fishing. My childhood friend who I talked about earlier has a boat.

Childhood friends to lovers AO3 tag is strong with this one huh. Hope his Trial 3 MV contains a scene of him fishing. It's just a funny image really.

(T1) Q3: If you were allowed to do anything, what would you want to do?

K: I'd like to live righteously.

(T1) Q4: Do you think that your family is proud of you?

K: No. They must find me embarrassing.

(T1) Q7: Do you like yourself?

K: I can't really say I do.

(T1) Q19: Do you want to be forgiven?

K: I'm not sure. I also want my weakness to be tolerated, to be honest.

Yeah, the (alleged) internalized homophobia is strong with this one, huh. I'm assuming that's what he's referring to when he says "weakness" unfortunately. I hope he gets therapy when he gets out of Milgram. But you can say the same about all the sillies I guess.

(T1) Q5: When you go to an amusement park, what do you like to ride?

K: The merry-go-round. I actually want to try riding on one.

What. Is this. Is this related to the merry-go-round in I Love You? Like Kazui wanting to try being in a relationship where the love is (somewhat at least) reciprocated? Will think on this more later. Maybe.

(T1) Q6: What is the difference between an adult and a child?

K: Responsibility. Adults can't just go and do whatever they want.

One day I'll start making posts about the prisoner pairs and this will come up in 0708 but I am currently unable to think more about Amane without imploding so.

(T1) Q12: What is the meaning of life?

K:I wonder what. If you find out, kindly come and tell this old man.

(T1) Q14: Do you listen to music?

K: Well, a decent amount. I'm sure you wouldn't know them because they're all old songs.

Why does my guy always talk like he's about to die from old age. Dude you're not even 40 you have literally half (song reference hah) of your life left at least, at least try to live it you know?

(T1) Q15: When do you wake up/go to bed?

K: Because I don't have a job now, I'm letting myself act freely. I sleep whenever I get sleepy, and get up before noon.

I've always wondered about this one. Retirement for police officers in Japan is around 60 years usually, so there's gotta be some other reason my guy's unemployed. That's assuming he was a police officer, since I've seen some dispute the claim, but I think it makes sense. Did he quit after Hinako's death? Something happen before it? It's really peculiar, especially because we don't really get any reference to this in either half or Cat from what I can see.

(T1) Q16: Do you believe in past existences and fortune-telling?

K: I don't. I can't shift to them the responsibility of what happens in life.

Oh you mean like how Amane pretends her murder was ordained by God even though her cult would very clearly disavow her killing anyone or anything because of the whole "follow thine destiny" thing? Curious.

Alright now get ready for me to analyze literally every single Amane question out of principle.

(T1) Q1: Do you have any special skills?

A: Nothing that I can call a talent. Perhaps studying. I do well in my Japanese class.

Does murder count as a special skill? Because I think she's actually decently good at it. Her studiousness is obviously caused by the whole cult thing, but good on her for being good at Japanese! Couldn't be me.

(T1) Q2: Is there anyone you hold in high esteem?

A: My father. My father has been on a journey for a while, but that is something very honorable.

I've always wondered how the father thing plays into her story, there hasn't been too much reference to him yet. There is the second voice reveal trailer thing, but honestly I'm not too sure what to make of it honestly.

(T1) Q3: If you were allowed to do anything, what would you want to do?

A: Nothing really. I am not lacking anything.

Alright you lying liar.

(T1) Q17: What would you do if the world ends tomorrow?

A: If everything ends? Then, I might do all sorts of things I have never done before.

I fucking love characters who lie to themselves yes fucking inject that shit in my soul-

(T1) Q4: Do you think that your family is proud of you?

A: Of course. No daughter is as exemplary as I.

(T1) Q13: Who do you want to meet right now?

A: My father. I want him to praise me for working hard.

Her (allegedly) dead mother staring at her from hell like ಠ_ಠ

One day I'll make a post about how it's possible everyone in Milgram's just dead and Amane got killed by her father when he returned home and that's how she ended up in Milgram and I'll be sad.

(T1) Q5: When you go to an amusement park, what do you like to ride?

A: That is a place I should not go to.

I hate her cult so bad. I imagine that would be obvious, but I'll say it anyways.

(T1) Q6: What is the difference between an adult and a child?

A: There is no borderline there. I think there are grown-up children and childish grown-ups.

She had to grow up so fast I'm fucking depressed. Also ngl "childish grown-ups" is kinda based I think Amane should just insult people more often it's very awesome of her.

(T1) Q7: Do you like yourself?

A: I have never considered it from the perspective of love and hate, but I do think I am a good child.

Ouch. Ouchie ouch ouch.

(T1) Q8: Between ethics and emotion, which do you prioritize?

A: Both are trivial.

"Throw down, ethics is a delusion"~

This is honestly just a really funny answer. I get why she's saying it (common ethics and her own emotions are not as important as her cult's teachings in her eyes), but there's always a bit of hilarity that ensues when you say "ethics are trivial." Amane should honestly be allowed to violate Geneva conventions, I think the world would be better if she did.

(T1) Q9: Tell me what your family consists of.

A: It was my father, my mother, and I.

Was, huh. Wonder what happened there (murder happened there (allegedly)).

(T1) Q10: Is there any prisoner you're close with?

A: If I were to say, I guess it would be Yuno and Mahiru.

And then she wasn't! Kami-sama that first trial aftermath was a warzone.

(T1) Q11: What kind of meat do you like?

A: I don't eat meat.

The part of me that loves body horror sorta wants Amane to be shown eating her victim in Trial 3 to really drive home how 'this is not what the cult wants her to do'. Is that not a normal thing to say? It makes me sound completely fucking unhinged? Oops. Anyways.

(T1) Q12: What is the meaning of life?

A: I think it is something you learn for the first time when you look behind yourself when it ends. I do not want to have regrets then, so I live on with all my might.

Sometimes (a lot of the time) I think about Amane when she grows up and hopefully is out of her cult's control, and how she'll feel about the first 12 years of her life. I hope she and Shidou make up.

(T1) Q14: Do you listen to music?

A: Not really, to songs that are highly entertaining.

I headcanon that if the prisoner's listened to each other's songs, Backdraft would be Amane's favorite because it's exciting and she likes Fuuta.

(T1) Q15: When do you wake up/go to bed?

A: I go to sleep at 9PM, and wake up at 6AM.

She sleeps for nine hours a night? This is the healthiest sleep schedule I've ever seen in my entire life the fuck is this. I get this is because of the cult thing, so I think my girl should get to do a sleep-over with some of the other prisoners eventually, but still.

(T1) Q16: Do you believe in past existences and fortune-telling?

A: Although there are many fake ones.

How do you think Amane would react to Mikoto's tarot thing? I can't think of anything funny to say so I'm just not gonna address the question.

(T1) Q18: Do you regret your "murder"?

A: No. It was a natural obligation.

So true bestie, kill the bitch. I will live up to my name as the Local Amane Momose Apologist, I want her to kill everyone that's ever hurt her (not the audience obvs).

(T1) Q19: Do you want to be forgiven?

A: Of course. I anticipate that you will make the right judgment.

Come on, how can you disappoint her again? Vote her inno, she deserves it.

(T1) Q20: Any complaints about being imprisoned?

A: No. Because this is a trial by God.

Reason #543785478 why voting her inno is the better option: there is zero chance she sees a second Guilty as anything but another trial she must endure, so she'll only cling harder to her faith and I seriously worry we might not be able to get her back by the time Trial 3 rolls around.

Okay brainrot over. I'll be surprised if anyone survives that amount of insanity but here we are. Thanks for all the asks! And excited to see what you're cooking on your end. Take care!

#amane momose #kazui mukuhara

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fair-night-starry-tears · 8 months

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Ffs I’m finally doing this.

Twistober!: 14/Pinocchio!

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There was once a sweet little girl, she was the town littlest apple to their eyes. Her eyes were cute as a button, her smile brought the gown to their knees, she is the epitome and honesty and friendliness. Though, she was the most adventurous. As the girl may look pretty and cute. She’s a wild little girl who thrives to adventure, letting her imagination make her path to that thrill she so seeks.

On her way to her home, after she finished a day of school. She stumbled upon to a live puppet show. Though, the more she sees the dolls dancing and swinging in their strings. She cannot help but watch the show, though she kept her distance. As she felt her instinct tells her not to stray to close. It was strange, as her instincts never lie about danger. And she made her way back home. Hearing the lovely music box that plays in her father and mother lovely workshop. The song that brought customers to the store, a very popular tune, since it was sang by her dear great great grandfather.

The sweet little girl, Penne, began to dance to the tune, as she twirled to the workshop little stage. Made for her to dance and show the audience her little dance. She dance with grace, beauty, and elegance. So surprising from the young girl, as she had practiced to dance on her own. The small crowd in the workshop could only watch in awe. As they too feel like they saw the girl great great grandfather within her soul, there was rumors of her dear great grandfather was of the same young puppet who became human. Penne could smile and giggle like a sweet little doll, as she dance. She had just finished her dance, the crowd cheer and applaud for the girl, throwing her flowers and ribbons. Making the girl bow as she leap off the stage. Her ears perked up as she heard her father speak in a gentle manner, “Penne. Head upstairs, and be a dear to find my craved.” As Penne nodded her head, “yes father!” As she cheerfully ran upstairs and looked around the top floor, searching for the knife that her father use to crave. She did pause, as she laid her ear to hear her father. Speaking to a man, and telling him to evict himself off the store. She did almost wonder, until she saw a glinting item under a desk. Reaching her hand and grabbed her father knife. She calmly return, placing the item on her father desk. “I found it.” The young charming man chuckled, “thank you Penne, you’re such a doll to me!” He smiled as he lifted his daughter in the air, as the two laugh and the man hold his little girl to his arms. He was so honored to be blessed with a sweet daughter. As he view his little girl, his real honoring treasure. As it was rare of his tree to birth a girl. As he was the eldest brother, and to have a sweet girl is a blessing. “Penne, did I ever tell you that you’re the world to me?” He asked. “Of course father, you say it all the time!” She laughed with a smile, and the girl father smiled as he chuckled. “It’s because im right. You are the world to me. And you’ll always be the light of hope.”

This was oh so true. As Penne was the pinnacle of hope. A a cheerful spirit with a heart of kindness. Her father do wish the world would see her at her glory, but he also wish to keep her happy. As he wishes only the best for his sweet daughter. Because he knows someday, his little girl will bloom into the greatest. And he will wait to see it happen.

——————————————————————————

- no angst

- wholesome

- Penne avoids her danger

- I’m not sure if this is close but you finally get me writing. And I’ll write about Peter Pan theme later

- Twst Stromboli was referenced in this as a slight cameo but no full appearance. (No he haven’t ran into Penne but he keeps hearing of a living ‘doll’ walking around the town)

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind @skboba-stars @nproduction626 @rose-tea-and-strawberries @anxious-twisted-vampire @luxstring

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #marron ocs #twst oc #Marron writes #Penne Striae #Papa Striae #Spotify #twistober2023

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harurio · 4 months

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dead friend forever ep2 hehe

lots of yelling and not a lot being said. one of my least favorite kinds of scene. i do feel bad for por bleeding out on the sofa listening to these nitwits talk like he's already dead

when barcode. im bored

straight to the bathroom beheading i see

wait tf that's us nititorn?? damn i didn't even recognize him without his glamour mullet!! sorry about your tummyache king

still on the mdl page and copper phuriwat is a whole month younger than me! what! (this makes me feel both very old, as my instinct is now to think of him as a baby, and very young, as so many of my fellow bl fans are real grownups and probably used to this)

BARCODE IS 19??? a 2004 liner??? insane i tell you!! insane!!

apparently i've never been older than a man before. anyway back to the nitwits. will they stop yelling

yes they will! but i know for a fact (seen spoilers) that non is not a ghost so they're still not doing great in the being right department

holy SHIT that's what i'm talking about!!! this is the most interested i've been this whole time! por's bloody eyes made me jump i will not lie i love this i hope it only gets weirder and scarier and

oh ffs.

i don't trust jin though. wasn't he in on the olders' convo and now he's helping the youngers. and he's hiding so so much

LMAOOOOO WHAT IN THE FUCK

rip uncle dang. i should not be laughing this hard

oh now you remember your boyfriend. and lie to his beautiful tear-streaked face. fuck you i think

okay that was still kind of tedious but uh. shit definitely went down towards the end. will continue watching but i want to see my little boy (barcode) (a whole year younger than me) (what am i doing with my life)

#dead friend forever #fuaiz (white) was born in 2006. two thousand and six. that's my little sister's year and she just got her driver's license #*staring at the passage of time* brooo this is crazyyyy how come no ones talking about this shit

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castingmywitsaway · 1 year

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What do you need from me? // Mass Effect ff

Because the half-dead "Yes. What do you need me to do?" from the half-dead Shepard, lying, dying on the Citadel, really broke my heart, and I used Mshenko to put it back together. Partially.

ME3, post destroy ending. Mshenko.

In the ruin and emptiness, and desolation, Shepard’s chest rose, just the tiniest distance, but even that sent pain rushing through his entire body faster than light. He was no stranger to pain, and yet there turned out to be a whole world of it yet to discover.

He drew in another breath, wishing he needn’t. His eyes were closed, his eyelids heavy; his body still wouldn’t go numb from pain overload. Instead, he felt everything within – every millimetre his chest expanded against his will, against his survival instinct that knew it was pointless to keep surviving. Every putative crack in his bruised ribcage. And everything outside of his body, connecting him to all the fatalistic existence. He had the entire galaxy at his fingertips, but he could not move his hand.

At last, he coughed. It was brutal; everything he was and had ever been became pain in an even larger proportion, which would have seemed impossible just before. Miserable. He sat upright, another impossibility.

Mad vertigo drove him to dig his fingers into his thighs, seeking to hold onto something as an endless void opened behind his back. How long was he lying there, pressed to the firm ground, tired, stable, safe? Now, no longer feeling the support of the ground, he felt instead as if he were falling.

He wanted to lie back down. What else did they need him to do? Did he not do it all? Did he not give it his all – no, more, for he gave it all it took, which might have been more than he could spare. He didn’t really know, though, what his best or enough was, never having had time to think about living his life just for himself.

Well, he did come to examine that, now, and he was tiresome. It had already caught up to him... whenever the night was when Kaidan came to his quarters. How long was he unconscious for?

But, of course, he had a promise to keep, and that one hadn’t been forced upon him either. Destiny chose him, so did Kaidan, but he chose Kaidan, too. And he promised.

His eyes were open but stinging, tears of weariness welling in them and blurring his vision. He crawled, hands searching trough rubble for some edge to grab and pull himself up. His legs were not broken, at least not so broken, so he walked.

#mass effect #me #me3 #destroy ending #mshenko #vignette #short fiction #felt gay might delete #bioware #lgbtplus #male shepard #male shepard x kaidan alenko #john shepard #mass effect trilogy

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sockendrache · 3 years

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Egg

Inspired by my own dissatisfaction that Kyle didn’t get a Monstie and @magicallynormal ‘s idea of Kyle’s Monstie being a Tobi-Kadachi, I wrote this little ff in like 2 hours because I had nothing better to do

I wanted the Rider to stay gender-neutral but it just sounds like Kyle never bothered to ask them for their name-

___________________

“This is a terrible idea.”

“You should’ve thought about it before we left Kuan, then.”

Without sparing Kyle another glance, the Rider entered the Monster’s nesting-area without any hesitation showing on their face; Ratha close behind them. From within the depths of the cave, the Hunter could hear distant roars and predatory clicks; instinctively, he straightens his back, hand hovering over his bow.

The Rider, kneeling besides the huge nest, doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds at all; way too busy examining the brightly colored eggs.

Off to the sides, Kyle spots various piles of worn-down bones, all sporting teeth-marks and scratches, some entirely broken open. Along with a few stray chunks of flesh, almost blending into the ground of the den. They don’t look very fresh; probably a few days old already. His instincts tell Kyle to quickly gather up a few samples of whatever he can get his hands on, maybe let his scoutflies out to take in the scents; then leave the den as quickly and quietly as possible. Not taking anything valuable with him, not disturbing the Monster’s home in any way.

Though... the weight of the kinship-stone, strapped to his left hand, reminds him of the reason for this “expedition”.

He’s not here to take samples for the ever-curious Research Center, nor to track down a Monster. He’s not here to deliver chunks of flesh or eggs.... however, maybe he should just imagine he’s here for a delivery-quest. Maybe that would help calm his poor nerves, still absolutely shot to hell.

Kyle, who was born and raised a Hunter, who knows nothing else; he’s here to get his first Monstie.

It’s absolutely unheard of. A Hunter, whose sole purpose is to hunt these beasts down –maybe capturing them after tiring them out in battle, if the quest calls for it- is about to form a bond with one of these creatures, who he spent years of his life learning the weaknesses of, training to take down beasts several times his size.

Kyle takes a strained breath, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Over their shoulder, the Rider shoots him a look; their eyes warm, their glance almost comforting.

“Come closer.”, they calmly say, gesturing with their hand towards the nest.

Feeling drastically out of his element, Kyle follows the command; takes a few brave steps towards the nest and promptly freezes up again.

He knows the process of this; hell, he’s already lost track of how often he stood guard while his new Rider-friend sifted through a Monster’s nest. He knew how to hold Wyvern-eggs, how damn heavy these things were and how stupid you looked while carrying one. He knew how these things were goddamn predator-magnets, and how easily they broke.

That, perhaps, was one of the things that frightened Kyle the most about this whole situation.

How often had he accidentally broken an egg while out on a transporting-quest? How often had he washed the yolk and slimy egg-whites off his armor in a nearby stream, before tracking his way back to the nest to pick up a new egg? And how often had he not wasted a single thought on it...?

It’s just eggs, he used to think. Eggs that he’ll bring to the canteen after returning to the base, eggs that he’ll probably eat sooner or later before leaving the base again, set out on yet another quest.

And yet, here he was. Standing at a Monster’s nest, containing eggs that he, before he met the Riders, used to scoop up without thinking about it twice. His muscles feel stiff beneath his armor, his throat scratchy and dry; what if he broke this egg too?

“Kyle?”, the Rider’s calm voice rips him out of his violently spinning thoughts. “You okay?”

Was he okay? Good question; if only Kyle knew the answer.

“I... I don’t think I can do this.”, he mutters, hating how small his voice is sounding. Cold fingers brush over his kinship-stone; a gift from the Rider. Apparently, it once belonged to them- before this Wyverian girl gave them their grandfather’s kinship-stone. “I mean- if I should do this. I’m- I’m a Hunter, we don’t just.... ride Monsters.”

They, like so often, only shake their head the slightest bit. And calmly, they reach for Kyle’s hand.

“Then why does Ratha love you so much?”

Almost as if on command, a big, scaly head bumps into his back; Ratha’s idea of a hug. After having spent a little time on Hakolo-island, it was almost frightening to see how.... human Monsters -or Monsties, as Kyle learned they were called- could be. He’s seen Ratha pick up on emotions, display human-like behavior; and not just on him. The Rider loved to point out the Monster’s behaviors whenever they took on a quest together, and as someone who’s spent his whole life learning about Monsters, it felt so entirely.... different, watching their behavior in packs, or see something as innocently as an Azuros teaching its cubs how to fish.

It felt almost unreal.

As a Hunter, most, if not all of his hunting-quests were targeting Monsters wrecking havoc; and when he’s out collecting ingredients or samples, he rarely ever got the chance of seeing Monsters in their natural habitat. And admittedly... seeing these beasts; even the ones that were known for their hostile behavior, completely unbothered by his presence... it shook something deep inside Kyle’s core.

Gently, cold fingers intertwine with his; pulling him down to kneel next to the Rider. Kyle peers over the edge of the massive nest; its inside carefully laid out with tufts of fur and moss. It’s like a giant bird-nest, the Monster clearly having put a lot of work into the making of it. Upon closer inspection of the fur, Kyle has a vague idea of whose nest he’s sitting at right now; though, following the Rider around, he quickly learned that there’s often a few “imposter”-eggs in a nest, smuggled in by Monsters not bothering to care for their young one hatched.

The silence feels tense; so, Kyle attempts to ease it a little.

“Why didn’t Navirou come along? Wouldn’t he be of help, sniffing out a good egg?”

Quietly, the Rider shook their head, giving Kyle an almost apologetic smile. They weren’t a big fan of words; he quickly caught up on that. However, this look didn’t need any words; after all, Kyle did tag along to a few egg-hunts before, watching from the sidelines as Navirou ushered them out of the den, barely giving the Rider enough time to get a good grip on the newly acquired egg. It��s not like Kyle had anything against the Felyne personally; but he had to admit that he was glad he wouldn’t have to rush through this process, only to prevent Navirou from having a Monster-induced heart-attack.

After all, he had a feeling that time would be an important factor in picking out his first Monstie.

With a huff, the Rider pushes themselves up, gently pulling Kyle with them as they step into the nest. Twigs crunch under his weight as he kneels down, getting onto the same level as the eggs.

The Rider placed their hand on Kyle’s shoulder; he’d lie if he tried to tell anyone that it wasn’t comforting. “Just pick the egg you have a connection to. Good smell or not, doesn’t matter. Don’t tell Navi I said that, though.”

The instructions are clear, yet awfully vague; and Kyle can’t help but note how it’s one of the longest sentences he’s ever heard from them. “Take your time, but.... not too much. Before an angry Mama Monster sees us.”

“....sounds reasonable.”

As he looks over each of the large eggs, most of them brown in color with yellow-ish ovals on the shell, he notices the odd one out. Between the egg of an herbivore, if he recalled correctly, laid a pale blue egg, the shell littered with dark blue, almost black zigzags.

Apparently, his gaze lingered a little too long on the lone Wyern-egg, as evident by the look the Rider gave him.

“That one?”, they asked, gingerly reaching out to guide Kyle’s hand towards the egg. Despite the cold air having slowly numbed his fingers, the egg’s surprisingly smooth texture is one of the first things that he notices. At first glance, it’s just like any other Wyvern-egg he’s transported before; and yet, in the back of Kyle’s mind, there was something.... else to this egg.

As if he could feel the Monster calling out to him from within its protective shell, only waiting for a Rider to bestow it their blessings and allow it to awaken into this world.

“I- ….is this normal?”

His fingers now shivering, he places his entire hand on the egg, frightened yet amazed how small his hand is compared to the massive egg. The Rider gives him a look that Kyle can’t quite place.

“I feel like-... this little guy wants to come out...?”

Before he knows it, Kyle is protectively clutching the egg to his chest; holding onto it just a little tighter than onto the ones during his transport-quests. The Rider and Ratha lead the way out of the Monster’s den, practically shielding him from the hungry eyes of the predators waiting in their path.

On the flight back to Kuan, Kyle could swear that his kinship-stone was pulsating with life.

__________________________________

“....is this really necessary?”

Back in the village, their first stop was the stables. And under the watchful eye of the Felyne running the stables, Rider and Hunter were preparing to hatch the little Monstie.

The egg –a pulsing fanged Wyvern, as Kyle now knew- was placed in a little nest, and Kyle could think it was staring at him from beneath the shell.

The Rider doesn’t bother answering, instead handing him a stick, with which they –to Kyle’s horror- performed something apparently referred to as “Dance of the tribe”, a ritual meant to pray for a healthy Monstie to hatch from an egg. Though, Kyle wasn’t entirely sure if they were just fucking with him, or if it was a legit ritual back on Hakolo-island.

Though, he doubted he’d have time to fly back to Mahana-village and ask the chief for confirmation before his Monstie hatched, and... something told him that he didn’t want to miss this.

And so, with the utmost raise of his eyebrow Kyle could possibly muster, he gingerly reached for the stick.

_________________________________________

By the time he was done, his face bright red and radiating more warmth than the oven inside his house, the egg hadn’t budged. Other than the soft cackle of the fire and Kyle’s tense breathing, the stables were silent, everyone’s eyes fixed on the egg... before suddenly, it shuddered with life.

Kyle, utterly overwhelmed with the situation, could only stare helplessly as the egg started to crack, pieces of the shell starting to fall off and revealing tiny spots of blue fur. Though, the Rider is quick to help; promptly instructing him to hold his kinship-stone towards the egg.

“To help it hatch,” they explained, their eyes practically glazed over with excitement. But hell, in comparison to Kyle, that was nothing. There might have even been tears in his eyes, he didn’t know- not even if they were from excitement or fear.

His kinship-stone starts to glisten in a bright blue light; he’d probably be scared if he hadn’t seen this during his battles with the Rider. The shell continues to crack open, tiny pieces falling off, until the egg shattered with a burst of life, a shrieking roar piercing the tense atmosphere of the stables.

As Kyle is face to face with the little Monstie, his throat starts to tighten.

“A Tobi-Kadachi! What a fine little Meownster,” the Felyne purrs as the Monster looks up at Kyle with –surprisingly- innocent-looking eyes.

Instinctively, something in Kyle wants to reach for his bow- thank the sapphire-star he took it off after entering the village. A tingling heat starts to spread throughout his body; the first hints of adrenaline starting to pump into his blood stream. He’s reminded of the piercing roars of the adults he’s encountered during his hunts, of their bursts of electricity when they glide through the trees and pounce onto their prey.

A bead of sweat collects on his brow; and as always, the Rider seems to notice. Calmly, they appear at his side, taking his clammy hand into theirs and holding it out- that way, Kyle can clearly see how his fingers shake.

The tiny Monster curiously looks at his hand; and just like that, his eyes squeeze shut and Kyle finds himself praying that the little creature is more interested in sniffing him than chewing his fingers off- at least until he feels something soft press up into his palm.

Upon forcing his eyelids open, he sees this newborn Monster rub its unbelievably tiny head against his palm, the smallest chirps coming out of its throat, and the Rider- they carefully let go of his hand, grabbing a hold of the other one and guiding it towards the Monster-…. No, guiding it towards his Monstie and-

The Tobi-Kadachi, this freshly hatched creature; it outright jumps into his arms- a poor attempt at gliding, it seems, and just like that, Kyle’s instinct to reach for his bow is replaced by the instinct to catch the Monster and-

By the gleeful little churr it makes once its settled in Kyle’s arms, he promptly finds himself nuzzling his face into soft fur. Still utterly overwhelmed by the idea of this tiny creature being his Monstie, but as he looks into the Wyvern’s big eyes, so full of innocence and wonder, he suddenly feels very much like he- no, they can do this.

#mhst2 #monster hunter stories 2 #monster hunter stories wings of ruin #monster hunter kyle #monster hunter fanfiction #fanfiction #tobi-kadachi #monster hunter stories #give this boy a monstie im begging you

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tracybirds · 3 years

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It’s not 2am I refuse to accept that lol.... what started with me projecting onto Brains because I am very anti-vacuum cleaner and loud sudden noises, morphed into listen to me Brains and Jeff are FRIENDS, they’re BEST FRIENDS, he asked him to live on the ISLAND with his family (Brains is family)

So this is Brains having a problem with loud noises and Jeff helping him out

---------------------------

Brains shut the door firmly. He spent so much time in the depths of the volcano, underneath nearly three hundred metres of solid basalt, that he’d forgotten how loud the Tracy family really was. Forgotten their penchant for sudden bangs and explosive arguments when the mood took them.

He’d known them for years, first met Jeff and Lucille back before even Gordon was born. Without noticing, somehow his invitations to dinner and birthday parties grew and grew until he found himself folded into the line up as naturally as any other member. He might have once been surprised to find a place made for him on Tracy Island, his own opinions sought after and his wants and desires for his own space taken as seriously as anyone else’s, but upon reflection the transition had been the most seamless in his life.

He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

But right now, between shaking hands and chattering teeth, he’d rather be anywhere but here.

His study was a place rarely frequented. He much preferred the cavernous space of his workshop, where he could jump between theory and practice and the only sound was that of muttered calculations echoed back to him with his own voice. But with Jeff back (and wasn’t he thrilled to be working with his old friend again), dreaming up new ideas for the dozen, it only made sense to temporarily relocate back to the room next door.

He winced as a chair scraped overhead again. Indistinct conversation filtered down and he glanced over to check the windows were shut fast. How Jeff was working, totally oblivious, as beyond him. Every sound tore into Brains’ skin.

He rummaged through the drawers, searching for the headphones that would provide even a moment of relief.

Above him, the floor creaked ominously and he could hear Virgil and Gordon’s scattered laughter.

The villa suddenly seemed very small.

A gentle whirring grabbed his attention, and Brains looked up to see MAX in front of him, headphones in his grip.

“Thank you, mm-MAX,” he said with a tight smile and lowered them over his ears.

He could hear his echoing heartbeat, beating wildly and amplified by the full coverage of his ears, and he grimaced at the sound.

But a choice between the unexpected screeches from above and the steady sound of living was no contest.

Brains steadied his breath and stared blankly at the blueprints he was working on. He could hardly remember what they were for. Some kind of energy dampener?

He placed his glasses down on the desk and rubbed at his eyes. The thumping was only getting louder and faster and the headphones themselves were becoming a problem – the synthetic cushioning sticky and hot against his skin.

He could still hear the boys above.

His fingers fumbled with software, searching for something tolerable to drown out the sound. Music burst through to his eardrums and instinctively he ripped their source away, and the sounds of Tracy villa fell in on him at full force.

Gritted teeth, eyes squeezed tight, hands drilling his ears into his skull as though they could be removed, and all because of noise that couldn’t be helped and that he couldn’t ask to be stopped.

Not fair, he thought, not fair to them and certainly not fair to him.

***

Brains’ door was shut. That pulled Jeff up short, his hand hovering over the door knob as he frowned at it as though it had closed itself of its own accord. Brains’ door was never shut.

Jeff could still remember the gentle welcome he’d given his sons when they first met, answering all their questions about his lab and what exactly his job was. How he’d taken one look at Jeff, overwhelmed with the care of only three children while his pregnant wife rushed home to care for her dying mother and invited him and his overly-excited children home for tea. Even back in Tracy Industries, Jeff had been given unrestricted access to Brains’ office and he liked to think it wasn’t simply because Brains couldn’t say no to his boss.

He knew very well how incorrect that statement was.

Jeff reached out and knocked on the door.

There was no reply.

Faintly, Jeff could hear the faint beeps of MAX inside and that only puzzled him more. MAX never seemed to leave Brains’ side in one form or another, but neither did he sound distressed. He thought. Jeff was still learning how to tell the moods of a robot apart.

Another loud whoop echoed down the stairs and he glanced up, partially amused but mostly exasperated. With some time off, Scott and Gordon had taken it upon themselves to teach Alan poker and if there was anything that Scott and Gordon knew how to do quietly – well, it wasn’t poker.

From the sounds of things, Alan had hit a streak of beginner’s luck and Scott, still swearing above him, was on the losing end.

He laughed to himself and lightly pushed open the door, poking his head to try and spot his friend.

His smile dropped almost instantly.

“Brains? Are you alright?”

A redundant question, immediately answered without a word as Jeff took in the clenched jaw and involuntary gasps for air.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered to himself, reluctant to startle Brains further or make whatever this was worse by touching him. Because this was surely something new. Or something hidden and private that he had no intention of revealing to the rest of his raucous family.

A chair fell with a loud bang above them and Jeff jumped. Brains seemed to curl even further in on himself and as the squabbling grew louder and louder above them, Jeff realised what the problem was.

“Brains, I’ll be right back,” he promised, before striding upstairs, worry turning what had been exasperation into real anger.

“Boys,” he growled, his voice cutting through the argument. Three startled pairs of eyes met his, and Jeff tried to cool the white-hot fury into mere annoyance.

“Outside. Or your rooms, I don’t care which.”

Gordon scoffed at him.

“You can’t send us to our rooms.”

Jeff whirled on him, the fire stoked in his glare.

“On second thoughts,” said Gordon cheerfully, tugging Alan in front of him. “I was just gonna go for a swim. What do you say, Alan?”

Jeff watched the two race away and turned to face Scott, his arms crossed and scowling openly.

“What was that for?” he demanded. “We were just playing cards, what’s the big idea?”

“You’re just being too damn loud,” Jeff said with a grunt, turning towards the stairwell.

Then again, he reflected, it wasn’t entirely their fault. Clearly, whatever was going on downstairs wasn’t something they’d known to be aware of.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” muttered Scott. “If you say so.”

Jeff ignored him, already halfway down the stairs with his main objective cleared.

He slipped back into the room, pleased to see Brains’ breathing was much less erratic.

“Brains?”

“Mmm, y-yes Jeff?”

He stepped forward and laid a hesitant hand on Brains’ shoulder.

“You’re still shaking,” he said quietly. “What was that?”

“Nn-nothing.”

Jeff snorted.

“At least look me in the eye when you lie to me, Brains. Come on, I know you better than that.”

Brains pursed his lips together, still avoiding Jeff’s gaze, and it suddenly struck Jeff that his friend might not want to tell him about his problems.

Eight years was a long gap in friendship.

“It’s okay,” he said at last, as the silence stretched out into uncomfortable awkwardness. “You really don’t have to say. I’ve just never seen you like that before.”

“Yes, you have.”

Jeff looked at him in surprise, unsure of the conviction in Brains’ eyes.

“Then I don’t remember,” he admitted slowly, casting his mind over fragile, faded memory.

“Help m-me over to that sss-sofa.”

Jeff followed his directions without protest, still watching him carefully until Brains was lying down on the sofa with a sigh.

He reached out and handed over the blue frames instinctively and pulled up a chair as Brains peered at him through them.

“Adrenaline crash,” he said, by way of explanation and gesturing at himself. Sss-sorry Jeff, it g-got a little out of hand.”

“What is ‘it’?”

Brains waved a dismissive hand.

“I hope you didn’t g-go up and yell at the b-boys,” he said. “It’s really not their ff-fault. I just have a hard time with too mm, m-much noise, or the wrongs kinds nowadays.”

“Why?” asked Jeff, trying not to feel too guilty over having done just that.

Brains smiled tiredly.

“T-t-turns out, it’s really rather traumatising to watch your ff-friend explode on a live-feed in f-front of you.”

Chills raced over Jeff’s skin, all seeming to find entry into his heart. His breath caught in his throat and he found it was his turn to be bent over with his friend’s guiding hand on his back.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “Worse for you than it was for me.”

“Yes, you’re right Jeff,” said Brains drily. “There are no lasting effects from the mm-moment that ripped your f-family from you and f-forced you to survive in the m-most hostile environment with no hope of return. Mm-my m-mistake.”

Jeff laughed weakly.

“You got me there,” he admitted, rubbing his chest to try ease some of the tension. “But at least we’re not alone on this one. I’ll tell the boys to check neither of us are working before they play anymore poker.”

“And next time, they could ask us to join,” said Brains with a grin. “I don’t think they know what a g-good team we m-made.”

“Good cheats, you mean.”

“Well, of course, what’s the difference?”

Jeff laughed, thumping on his shoulder.

“Get some rest, Brains. Strategise later.”

#brains #wait how DO we tag brains what's his real name again??#hiram hackenbacker #lmao sorry brains but that is a NAME #jeff tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #this is put brains at about 15ish years older than scott if we're wondering #i just really like the idea of brains being really good friends with jeff and lucy and their horde of kids #now i should go to sleep because it is monday and i do have work in five hours for kids who won't show up #love them miss them would it kill them to come to virtual class (probably i get it stay safe kids)

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ladylynse · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5 of Forewarning [FF | AO3]

All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he’d gotten here.

Inspired by this artwork by @hashtag-art

(beginning | previous)

-|-

“Look, kid,” Stan said after taking a quick peek at his watch, “I need to get going, and you shouldn’t be working on any of this by yourself.” He nodded at the portal. Truth was, he didn’t want Danny touching it at all when he wasn’t around. “Safer for both of us if you keep your expertise on these things for when I’m around to hear what you’re saying. That sound good?”

Fortunately for Stan, the kid nodded. His next repetition of that proposal might’ve been a lot less careful and a lot more, well, direct. Not his usual method, not punching, not now that he knew at least part of this kid was human and still very much a kid and that the part that wasn’t could go right through his punches, but he’d learned enough from the kid to know the sort of thing that would work. Quite aside from the fact that Stan knew exactly how dangerous some of this stuff could be, he wasn’t going to risk thirty years of work being for nothing if something got changed when he wasn’t around to see it happen.

Of course, that was why he had to say this next part. And he couldn’t even be very subtle at it, since he was pretty sure subtle would go over the kid’s head. “I wanna protect my family,” he said. “That includes everyone you’ve met up there, and that includes protecting them from all of this.”

Dammit, the kid was pulling a face. “I’m not sure if you can.” His words were slow. Deliberate. “From what I can tell, when you finally get to the point where you turn this on…. It’s going to be obvious.”

Stan snorted. “Not more obvious than any of the other things that go on around here.” He might not like where things had been headed, but he could make this particular turn of the conversation work to his advantage if he picked the right words, and he was very good at doing that. Experience could be an effective teacher. “It’s not a coincidence you got the reaction you did. This place is called the Mystery Shack for a reason.”

“This place is tourist trap.”

“Not all of it. And every single person up there knows it.” Stan jabbed his thumb towards the ceiling. “You do, too.” Judging both by what he’d said and the way he was acting. Stan was not foolish enough to think that Danny was comfortable right now. “That book you mentioned earlier? Yeah, it might need updating, but you already know not all the info in it is wrong.” He saw Danny frown and kept going, adding on what he’d wanted to say in the first place. “Tell you what. You want to make sure the book the kids are looking at is accurate when it comes to you not planning on destroying all of us where we stand? Grab it and stash it down here. We can update it tonight.”

The kid rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know if stealing it is the best way to go.”

It was the best way for Stan, but all he really needed out of it were the missing pages of blueprints. The rest of the info in there might be useful, but it wasn’t immediately important. There was more than one way for him to get a look at those pages. “Then ask for it.” All he needed was for Dipper to pull that book out in his sight so he could ask to see it, even if he pretended it wasn’t important, or at least not nearly as important as it was….

“I don’t…. You were listening when I said they threatened to exorcise me, right? They probably already would’ve if they hadn’t been too busy asking me questions. They’re never going to hand that over to me when they don’t trust me.”

Oh, oh, that was getting dangerously close to so why don’t you just ask for it? territory, and Stan didn’t want to go there. “You give them much reason to trust you?”

Silence.

That’s what he’d thought.

“I’m keeping this a secret to protect all of them,” Stan said with a nod towards the portal. “You know how dangerous this is if they accidentally mess something up, and I’m not about to present them with Pandora’s Box.” There was enough truth in that to be believable; he could see the rueful agreement on Danny’s face. “You’re trying to protect yourself with your secrets, but that’s just putting you in danger. Wasn’t that why you came clean with me?”

It wasn’t the whole reason. Stan knew that. But it was part of the reason. It was reason enough.

Danny sighed. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I’ll try to explain. I wouldn’t mind the backup, though. They act first and ask questions later.”

“Survival instinct. You don’t have to live here long to get it.”

“Gathering that,” the kid muttered, his eyes flicking over the hidden lab once more. Then, louder, “Fine. I’ll talk to them. But you’ll at least save me before they do anything drastic if it goes sideways, right?”

And back to the tricky part. He suspected that one of the reasons Dipper had never told him about the journal was that he made a big show about not believing in any of this. An effective show. “Just be yourself. No more tricks. Don’t know who you’re used to fooling, but we’re made of more skeptical stock out here.”

It wasn’t a promise, and narrowed eyes told him that had been noticed. After a heartbeat, though, the kid’s shoulders relaxed, and his suspicion drained away. “That’s one of the ways you’re trying to protect them, isn’t it? By not admitting how much you know.”

He hadn’t expected Danny to hit that particular nail on the head, at least not so quickly, but Stan grunted in affirmation anyway. The kid hadn’t argued, which meant he’d seen the point of it, even if he hadn’t realized the breadth of Stan’s motives behind that choice.

“I get that,” he whispered. “I’m doing something similar. Sometimes the…. Sometimes the truth hurts, y’know? And it’s just easier to live the lie. Safer. For everyone.”

Practice was the only thing that kept the surprise off his face. For all of Danny’s rambling earlier, he’d neatly avoided alluding to that before.

“It isn’t always.” Stan was painfully aware of that. Sixer had realized it, too, before…before…. “Your situation isn’t the same as mine. Just because you think secrecy is the right choice for everyone else and not just you, doesn’t mean it is, and you shouldn’t assume as much simply because it’s more convenient for you.” Rich words, maybe, coming from him, but the kid had no idea of how much of his life was a lie.

He had no idea it went far beyond a secret lab, a reverse engineered portal, and a determination to fix his mistakes.

“Maybe.” It was clear that Danny didn’t want to talk about it. That suited Stan just fine. He didn’t want to keep talking about this, either. “I need to get home before I get to worry about that, though.”

Stan wouldn’t mind having words with the being that had put Danny in this situation, and not just because he suspected it might give him some insight about his brother if said being happened to be in a talkative mood. The ghost—if the thing really was a ghost like Danny claimed and the kid wasn’t wrong about that—sounded like he could use a knuckle sandwich to go with said words, and Stan wouldn’t have a problem serving that up.

“Then I’ll see you back here tonight.”

“No. I…. I’ll see you before that. Because you’re right. I need to explain myself. You might not be the only one I’m supposed to help.”

Stan wasn’t entirely convinced the kid was really supposed to help anyone. Manipulative beings came in all sorts, and they were usually smart enough to have agendas that either aligned with what you seemed to need to do anyway or were just plain impossible to realize until it was too late to turn back. Saying that wouldn’t help the kid, though, so Stan just nodded. “You head up first. I’ll catch up.”

-|-

Dipper had decided to chop some wood, thinking—among other things—that Wendy might see what he’d accomplished and tell him he’d done a good job of it.

The problem was, even he knew he wasn’t doing a good job, and there was very little chance of him turning it into a good job by the time she saw it.

So far, he’d accumulated a small pile of interesting wedges on the ground and what felt like the beginning of three blisters, two on his right hand and one on the left. He was sore and hot and sweaty, despite ditching his vest and using it to cover up the journal. He was getting better, though. Marginally. Maybe.

Dipper took a deep breath, judged the angle, and then swung. The axe hit true, biting into the dead centre of the block of wood he was trying to split with a satisfying thunk. And then it stuck there.

What should have been a great feat had come to failure in time to be witnessed by his sister.

“Just hit the ground like you’re playing whack-a-mole,” Mabel suggested as she dumped a handful of sticks into the box of kindling that would eventually make its way over to the fire pit. “That’s gotta be easier than yanking it out.”

“Safer, too, probably,” Dipper agreed, but Mabel was standing there and watching him now, and it wasn’t working fast enough. At least, two more solid whacks hadn’t split it. He tried to swing harder and managed to catch the edge of the wood block on the ground, tilting it but not loosening it entirely—nor, notably, splitting the wood in half.

“I could try,” offered Mabel, but Dipper shook his head.

“I can do this.”

“We might not need it, anyway. Soos split some earlier.”

“It’s always good to have extra.”

“Suit yourself, bro-bro.”

Dipper assumed Mabel would head back out to gather more deadwood, but she just stood there and picked stray bits of bark out of her sweater. He gave up trying to split the wood block—or straighten it out on the axe; he wasn’t picky at the moment—and instead let his aching arms rest. “What’s bothering you? The phantom, or whatever he really is?” It was safe enough for them to talk; Grunkle Stan and Wendy had gone into town, and Soos was touching up the window frames with a fresh coat of paint. Not that Dipper wouldn’t have had this conversation right now if Soos were in earshot, since he trusted Soos, but if Phantom did decide to pull some tricks, it wasn’t smart to give him leverage.

In Dipper’s limited experience of ghosts, they were happy to use things and people you cared about against you.

Not finding more bits of bark in her sweater, Mabel began tracing circles on the ground with her the toe of her shoe. “I know you’re worried about this,” she said slowly, “and what it said in the journal—”

“I don’t even know everything the journal says. That’s what worries me.”

“But I don’t think Phantom is that bad. I mean, he hasn’t attacked us, even when we split up.” They hadn’t split up far, true—she’d stuck close, well within screaming distance and maybe even his sprinting distance, after their summer so far—but Dipper had thought that might coax Phantom out into the open again. It hadn’t, but Phantom not falling for it didn’t mean Mabel was right.

“He’s not like Mermando. It’s not just a stroke of bad luck that he’s here. He was trapped in that thermos. It can’t have been because he’s nice.”

Mabel stuck out her tongue at him. “Then why’d you open it?”

“Because I didn’t think ‘something stuck in some special thermos’ meant ‘secret containment of something that can kill you more easily than everything else in this journal and is freakily good at pretending to be human.’ I thought it was going to be a note!”

“You mean you thought it was going to tell you who the author was.”

Dipper sighed and sat down, shifting as a wood chip dug into his leg. “I thought it might be a clue to his identity,” he admitted, “or hints about the other journals. We don’t know anything about them.”

Mabel dropped down beside him and started pulling out blades of grass. “What if Phantom is right and we—you—need to forget about the author? Before we get in over our heads?”

“You know I can’t just forget about this. It’s…. There’s so much here. I can’t just walk away and pretend I didn’t see any of it. I just…. I can’t.”

Mabel nodded as if she hadn’t expected him to say anything else. “I think Danny—Phantom—whoever—came back earlier.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” He scrambled to his feet and glanced at the shack, which looked exactly as it had the last time he’d looked at it. The runes must be holding up. “How long ago?”

“When Wendy sent us outside. And I didn’t tell you because we’d already drawn all that warding stuff. And because I don’t think he’s as bad as you think he is.”

“You can’t risk everything just because you think he’s cute!”

“I’m not! If he wanted to hurt us, he could have. You know that. I think he’s looking for something. If we help him, he’ll be able to go home and everything will be fine.” She tossed bits of shredded grass aside. “Sit down. Please?” Dipper sighed and sat down, so she continued, “You know not everything in the book is dangerous. And you don’t know that he’s dangerous; you’re just assuming that because you don’t know what the book really says.”

“His section is in a special code. What am I supposed to think?”

“The section about him. Not the section telling you how to find him.”

Dipper stared at her for a few heartbeats. “You really don’t think the author wrote that part, do you?”

“Is the handwriting the same?”

“It’s similar enough. The code is more symbols than letters, anyway.”

“Maybe it’s a message for Phantom then, not whoever finds him.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“He knows time travel is real, and he knows someone around here has done it. That’s not something people randomly guess.”

It didn’t mean he was innocent, either, but Mabel had already made up her mind. It was like she’d forgotten the last time someone supposedly completely innocent and pretending to be human had turned up in their lives, which had already happened more times than Dipper would have thought possible before this summer. Sure, there was a chance she was right, but if Phantom didn’t have some nefarious plan, why masquerade as a human? Had he honestly thought they wouldn’t see through it?

“Okay,” Dipper said slowly. “Let’s assume our warding in working. If he still came back and hasn’t shown himself to us, then he’s looking for something, and he thinks it’s hidden inside.”

“And he doesn’t think we have it or he would’ve been more subtle.” Mabel wrinkled her nose. “He was knocking on walls and the floor and stuff, like he thought something would be hollowed out.”

“He thinks Grunkle Stan is storing something under the floorboards?” No, that couldn’t be right. Grunkle Stan wouldn’t have stashed anything useful for a ghost. “He thinks the author did? Maybe he does know about the journals and just didn’t want to tell us. Maybe he thinks the first one is hidden inside!”

“Or maybe I was wrong and he does think we have it and he’s trying to scare us into moving it.”

“You don’t think he’d try torturing us or something like a normal phantom of pain?”

Mabel shrugged. “He really doesn’t act like the other ghosts.”

No, he didn’t, which didn’t sit well with Dipper. Did he claim to be a phantom to throw them off the scent? It couldn’t be to try to intimidate them—from what Dipper had seen, he could’ve impersonated a category ten if that were the case—so maybe it was meant to mislead them, to keep them too preoccupied to realize the truth.

It was working.

Dipper huffed. “I know you want to trust him. Fine. I can’t, not until I get some answers.”

“Then let’s get some answers.”

“Summoning him again won’t exactly make him want to tell us anything,” Dipper said with a grimace.

“Talking to him might,” Mabel said, her gaze fixing on something over his shoulder.

Dipper swallowed and turned. It was Phantom all right, back as Danny Fenton. He was coming from the right direction, walking in from the path that led towards town, but Mabel wouldn’t have been wrong about earlier, which meant he was deliberately trying to be sneaky. Great. At least he wasn’t that good at it, judging by his attempts to play off Fenton as just a friend earlier.

“You see if you can get the axe free,” Dipper muttered, picking up a stick that was meant to be kindling for later. “I’m going to see how far I can get on a protective circle before he gets here.”

-|-

Soos stepped back and eyed his handiwork. It wasn’t his best. It wasn’t as good as he’d like. The salt had made the paint clumpier than he was used to, but Wendy had been right about it being a good starting point. If they weren’t sure exactly what they were dealing with but it seemed ghost-like, salting the thresholds without being too obvious about it was a good start.

He’d spent the last twenty minutes going over the door and window frames. He should probably find an excuse to go on the roof and do something around the chimney, though not with the paint colour he had. That would be too obvious on the shingles, and not drawing attention to what he was doing was preferable.

He still thought the kids should know right now, but Wendy had a point. Dipper wouldn’t be able to resist getting involved, and he’d think it was his job to save them all. If they could get a few preventative measures in place before the kids knew all the details—and, preferably, if he and Wendy could get a better idea of what those details were first—then maybe there wouldn’t be any more saving left to do.

Just because Wendy didn’t trust this not-quite-a-ghost, didn’t meant it was actually out to get them. Soos liked being an optimist. You needed to be, sometimes, to get through what life tossed at you. It could hurt—he wouldn’t deny that—but he figured it was better to hope than to just give in to doom and gloom and despair.

Ghost stories after marshmallows, Wendy had said. Marshmallows wouldn’t be the only thing she was getting in town, but Soos wasn’t sure how they were supposed to fight an unknown entity. If they didn’t know what it was, there were only so many general things they could try before they ran out of ways to stop it. They had enough things around here already if something needed to be set on fire, but if it required something weirdly specific, like holy oil? That wasn’t something you could just pick up from the grocery store.

All right, so maybe that’s another reason Soos wanted to tell the kids sooner rather than later. Even if Stan didn’t believe in all this, they did, and Dipper’s book clearly had some information in it. They’d be more than willing to sell this whole thing as a gimmick to their grunkle, too. Well. They might try to convince him it was all real first. Then they’d settle for selling it as a gimmick.

Another coat of lumpy salt paint wasn’t going to improve matters right now, so Soos scraped the remaining paint into a can he could seal and store for later and set about washing out the bucket and brush. He could grab his hammer and nail down a few loose shingles on the roof. That would give him a good reason to be up there. Maybe he could mix some salt with glue and then hammer down some shingles on top of that. It might last a little longer. It might last long enough, which was all that really mattered right now.

Soos was swapping supplies in the toolshed when he heard the crunch of gravel underfoot. No roar of an engine or whine of the golf cart, but the kids had been out in the other direction when he’d left them. He stuck his head outside, waving at a teen who had stopped awkwardly in the driveway at his appearance. With Stan out, he was filling in for Mr. Mystery, so he put the tools back down on the bench and stepped out to give the kid a proper greeting.

Customer from town, probably, though it was odd that he’d come this late, so close to closing.

And alone.

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack!” Soos started, but the boy stepped back and held up both hands.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, “but I’m, uh, not here for the tour. I had it earlier this afternoon.”

Funny. Soos had been working outside most of the afternoon because it had been slow. He didn’t remember seeing this kid. He didn’t remember any customers since that one car had come in this morning, to be honest, and that couple had only had a disgruntled daughter with them.

“Um. I was actually hoping to talk to Dipper and Mabel? If they’re around?”

Dipper and Mabel hadn’t mentioned anything, but it’s not like Soos had quizzed them as they’d skipped by to start gathering wood.

Still.

This boy was a tourist. Coming from town. Without parents. Soos didn’t know too many teens who would make that walk; even most of the locals preferred to drive it, since people tended to consider it just this side of too long to be comfortable, and none of them would have to worry about getting lost.

“They might be about,” Soos said carefully, but the boy was already looking around, and it wouldn’t be long before— Yes. He’d spotted them. Raised his hand in a wave. No welcoming shouts back, so not someone the twins considered a good friend, not yet, but no clear signs of confusion, either, at least not as far as Soos could tell. The boy mumbled some excuse to Soos and jogged around him, and Soos let him go.

The hair on the back of his neck was still standing, though.

Keeping one ear pointed towards the kids, just in case, Soos kept his head down and started to walk the driveway. They’d gotten a load of gravel in recently, and he’d spent an evening raking it down just the other day. It hadn’t had much traffic on it yet, just the occasional car—including Stan’s—and the golf cart. No rain since it had been dumped, either. Far more of it was loose than ground into the road, which made it an easy enough thing to follow the boy’s footprints.

Right up to the point where the trail stopped.

In the middle of the loose gravel.

No skidding to indicate that the boy had jumped from the side of the road, and no path worn enough in the road yet to hide his tracks. It was as if he’d just dropped down out of the sky and started walking in. Soos turned to look back towards the Mystery Shack, frowning. The sight lines would’ve been fine when there were fewer leaves on the trees, but as it was, the road jogged just enough for the foliage to obscure this part, and Soos didn’t need to look in the other direction to know how the road curved.

As far as Soos knew, a ghost wouldn’t have left any tracks like this, but Wendy had said this whatever-it-was wasn’t a ghost.

Wendy had also wanted to keep the kids out of it, but from what Soos had just seen, the kids were already up to their necks in it. The boy had known their names, and they must have known him, even if they hadn’t yet realized what he was.

So much for a boring summer holiday. Those two didn’t joke about being the Mystery Twins for nothing. Despite Wendy’s best efforts, they were getting sucked into every black hole of a mystery that existed in Gravity Falls.

Well, if that’s the way it was, then the least Soos could do was see if they needed anything.

(see more fics | next)

#gravity falls #danny phantom #phantom falls #crossover #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #dp snippet #gf snippet #crossover snippet

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agenderlessromantic · 3 years

Text

Thinking abt John’s nature...

Ok I am Not a Gideon / Harrow the Ninth blog at all but I finished HtN like two weeks ago and have been obsessively thinking abt it and consuming content and I have Thoughts. Heavy spoiler / content warning for Harrow the Ninth.

A lot of folks (from what I can gather in the tags) believe John to be hiding behind a kindly and socially-awkward exterior and in reality he’s manipulative, calculating, and generally an evil fucked-up guy. There’s a lot of support for that - he’s shown to be capable of far more powerful magic than anyone else and only uses it occasionally and for his own good, actively hid the truth about Lyctorhood for 9,000+ years, and allows everyone to worship him while trying to appear humble (he’s got a fuckin silver leaf and baby bone crown ffs). Not to mention the imperialist war-mongering society he’s built that actively goes and destroys planets and wages war against civilizations trying to protect themselves from the absolutely terrifying force that is necromancy. This is not a John apologist post. All of those things are true. But I’m interested in the themes and ramifications of what if, well, he didn’t mean for any of this to happen?

When I read HtN, I took John at face value - partially bc that’s always my first instinct on consuming media and partially because he seemed familiar. To me, he felt like someone with extreme social anxiety, who just nods and smiles and isn’t willing to correct people and goes “this might as well happen,” who is suddenly immortal and also the reason the solar system and local humanity still exists. He didn’t mean to become God, but everyone he’s resurrected is calling him that and it would be rude to try and correct them. He didn’t mean to lie by omission about perfect Lyctorhood, but one of his new (accidental cult) followers went and killed and spiritually ate their best friend because they thought that’s how it’s done and how is he supposed to tell them the truth after that? And now whoops, everyone’s done it. He doesn’t mean for his cult-army to commit genocide and terrorize the galaxy, he just has a problem to solve and his solution (if it was his idea originally) just so happens to include literally severing the souls of entire planets and really, necromancy is great and the people who are fighting against them just don’t understand that yet. He’s like people we all know: they feel like the weight of the world is on their shoulders but are afraid of hurting or upsetting someone at any point ever, so they just nod and smile and only take action when they feel it’s necessary - usually when it’s a personal matter - or when they think it’s expected of them. Except this one is an all-powerful being with nobody to challenge his thinking or behavior until millennia after he’s been set in his behavior. And absolutely none of this excuses what he’s done. He is still responsible for all of it.

I’m interested in the possibility that John and the readers will be confronted with the idea of evil through inaction and the responsibility people in power have to not just try their best to be kind, but to actively stop the people within their influence from committing heinous acts and creating oppressive systems. Even if John didn’t mean for any of this to happen, he’s still a colonizer, and a war-mongerer, and a murderer. He still lied to his Saints and allowed the Houses and the Cohort to build the ways that they did. He is still their God, as much as he might blush at being called that by Harrow; he accepts that title and he never meaningfully intervened on any of the horrific things his followers have done. Whatever or not he originally thought these things, he’s become entrenched in the ideals and beliefs of the society that only exists because of him.

I see John as a caricature of well-meaning, centrist-liberal politicians we have in America (and in many other parts of the world, I’m just American and it’s VERY visible in our politics) who can identify that certain things aren’t right about our society and try to not be as personally distrustful as what we’re used to from people in power, but they’re still not actually doing anything to change the problems and are, either through inaction or through trying to remain relevant and likeable, participating in and furthering systems of oppression. They’re approving police budget increases, they’re talking about how great the military is, they’re giving empty speeches about equality while surrounded by their imperialist country’s flags and shaking the hands of war criminals. Give that person godlike powers, immortality, and the responsibility of an entire solar system and rebuilding civilization, and you’ve got our favorite Celestial Kindliness, the First Reborn, and The Necrolord Prime, and they’re just as guilty of the crimes happening under their watch as someone who deliberately orchestrated them.

That ALL being said, I’ve only read through the book once and have probably missed details that run counter to my perception of him. I’ve definitely gotten new realizations from reading other peoples’ posts that I didn’t pick up on my own, and I’m sure there’s a lot more I didn’t see. Still, I’ve been thinking about this a lot & wanted to see if folks in the fandom had thoughts, given it’s a different take than I’ve seen most people have. I’d love to talk, I just haven’t interacted with a fandom in like 6+ years so forgive my awkwardness if there is any!

#gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #the locked tomb #the locked tomb trilogy #harrow nonagesimus #alecto the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb spoilers #harrowhark nonagesimus #tamsyn muir #john gaius #htn spoilers #tlt spoilers

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the-acid-pear · 3 years

Text

Scarface was too fucking boring, didn't make it past chapter 3, but that's good, because that means Baki-Dou time 😍

Time to read the fourth book in this series! Excited to see Musashi <3

Chapter 1

COLORS

Baki please stop flexing

A FELLA SAYING THE SAME I SAID WHEN YUJIRO PULLED HIS SOB STORY, FR GO TRY SOMETHING ELSE! What happened with that whole "i don't care about fighting" eh Baki?!

Chapter 2

HOHO ALI JR???

ah no :/

HOLY FUCK is this quality bad!

He wants to taste defeat i see

TOKUGAWA PLEASE STOP SMOKING

Oh they removed the... Egg in the back of the neck, nice

God this guy's tits so fat 🥵

FINALLYYY HOW LONG SINCE WE SAW A FIGHT IN THE ARENA? A PROPER FIGHT I MEAN

Chapter 3

He doesn't even know 🐍

DON'T BRING THAT FELLA HERE RETSU KICKED HIS ASS IN TIME. RECORD

Oh i saw fanart of this scene

Baki, it's your fault that you are bored, you fucking teen

This shit boring ME

Chapter 4

Oh, goroukou is a title

I like how the prime minister is becoming a recurrent character

I thought he said babe for a sec-

That little "oh~" is a bit sus, are the old men... No, it can't be 😳😳😳

I'm fucking choking fuck

GOD ALMOST READ THAT AS JOHN CENA 😭

"yes <3"

These ppl never learn

Chapter 5

What a way to go, a la gamzee /j

This dude so weird lmao

FAHDGAHDH king

Dude he has huge round eyes tf you talking bout?

IGDUFSUEASEUURSS he's such a freakkk 😭😭😭

This is the most wtf thing Baki has pulled, remember when this was about fighters fighting? I don't know enough about science for this shit either man

Okay so their hug wasn't Tokugawa being touchy like he is, this guy is even worse, se juntaron el hambre y las ganas de comer HSHAFSFG

Chapter 6

Baki's dead

Katsumi about to kill get killed by my grandpa i see

ALSO KATSUMI OG HAIR WOOO

Katsumi bro don't be so happy over nearly killing him-

I love seeing him get better tho

Uwaadgsgsjdga 😍😳🤤 twisting my hair irl,,, 🥴

Finally Motobe remembered he was a character here 😐

FSGSHDAHDA KOSHO PLS

I LOVE that they got dark lips again

IM SORRY GOUKI HOW DO YOU KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT EVERYONE?! LTDKFsjyrd 😭

Jack's scar looks cool ngl

Retsu living the good life lmao

AND HOW DO YOU KNOW, GRANDPA?

Hana just doesn't care, smartest Baki character lmao

Idk what they talking bout but good for em <3

Cum basement

Chapter 7

SHOW US MUSASHI'S COCK

Obsessed he thought his heart was failing 😭

Dude you can just hear the heart beat of your friends/opponents just like that? 🤨

Notice Gaia in the top left 🥴

WHY CAN HE RECOGNIZE EACH OF THEIR HEARTBEATS AAHSGA

Thick 🥵

Unironically built different

Chronic back pain if you ask me, that's how I stand to relieve my agony

Did. Did you just call him a femb-

STOP SHOWING ME PANELS FROM VAGAMOND

I love John sm lmao

Mr Musashi has 2 (3?) dads

Chapter 8

HAIRY LEGS 🥴

Those things look like boobs

Bet you would know eh SHAFADB

They jerked off the mummy?

Reminds me of eye surgery

AFjshAFDGAJAHAF

Mf came out the tube ripped af 😭

Chapter 9

Everyone is so feminine lately good ol Kureha fell behind 😭

I like his bandana tho it's cute

OH HE TOO? AND HE'S NOT EVEN THAT STRONG

Fat tits 🥴

Eheojeudkshs 😖😳👉👈

JACK STOP YOU ARE BIG ENOUGH ALREADY

HOLY FUCK

You know like i understand Baki, he is at the highest he can be rn, NO ONE can defeat him, but the rest? Like c'mon y'all just beat each other up or something

Ah, the miracle of birth 😍

Chapter 10

I love how all these two do is hang out together in bars, boybosses

TF IS UP WITH THAT ICE? AHDHS

I love what they have

Hana thinking of getting his 4 limbs broken again i see

WOOO!! Nice cock Mr Musashi 😳

HANAYAMA PLEASE 😐

Chapter 11

I love those freaks

I just now I'm seeing the little scars on his cheeks from the fight with Spec ☺️

I love the fact that Musashi has hair in his legs BUT not his arms like ??? Okay king

Heated scientist moment

HOHO POGGERS 👀

Chapter 12

UTSURAARSDFAFA sibling goals

GIRLBOSS 😍

URAURUSYRSAESGA IN LOVE???

Holy shit she's amazing

Chapter 13

And his ass is very thick too 😳

Those fucking sunglasses, obsessed

Debatable, he got struck by lightning :/

HE WAXES HIS HAIR? OMFG OBSESSED

WHY IS HE WEARING THAT LMAO 😭

Nooo they censored the cock again 😔😔😔

DO IT QWEEN 💅

STOP SAYING SHE'S GONNA FUCK THE CLONE

"I'm exciteddddd" "ok."

Chapter 14

You just hate seeing a girlboss win

She truly is amaizing

Also i just realized spirits have been showing up since the first book so this isn't so crazy lol

MF HOW IS THAT GONNA HELP 😭😭😭

THE LITTLE BUBBLES AND SPARKLES... I BET HE DID 🥺

Chapter 15

WHY ARE HIS TITS SO ROUND AND FAT GODDAMN IT,,, 😳😖

Glad seeing some things never change

He looks so much like Jun

IGSITSURAURZES EPICCC

Someone question if Yujiro knew how too write obsessed,,,

Chapter 16

Goddamn it you got even older in the past 3 or so chapters bro

Mouth to mouth soul transference

OHHH

HIS EYEBROWS FELL HOW IGDUTSITDIYDIGD

Some mf got turned on by this HELP 😭

Chapter 17

I love how Yujiro and Hana are still getting ready to throw hands while this happens lol

Okay yeah that was super disrespectful honestly, guy is having a chat :/

HAHAGSJAHA obsessed

God i thought it was Hana the one grabbing some random lady for a second AFDJSJSSJS

He cute af ngl

POOR GUY MUST BE SO CONFUSED OMFG,,,

Fsr I'm surprised he can talk, like it should be obvious but in all the fanart i saw he never said a word, also, he's so damn respectful 😍

Chapter 18

Idk he was never that clever /hj

Hehehe blood

I love how John can only sit that way

The size of his balls lmao

Coward won't even fight with his dick out smh :/

God he mad cute-

Chapter 19

I MISS THE DEATH ROW FELLAS FUCKKK

Hm i think this random tiny bald man is not Tokugawa but someone that looks awfully similar to him

YEAH NO SHIT I FEEL SO BAD FOR HIM, HE MUST BE SO DAMN OVERWHELMED

Apparently there was a cameo, i don't know enough about anime to know or care

Chapter 20

He's tripping balls

Tokugawa should have gone a bit slower with this poor guy, this is like a lot to process at once <:/

Nvm he's doing better than me

Oydirsusefs look at himmm

WAIT A FUCKING SECOND OMFG DIDN'T DOPPO FIGHT THIS GUY?!

SOMEONE ELSE RECOGNIZED HIM HE ISSS

Chapter 21

OHDIRAYEASURRSUURS HE DOESN'T KNOWWW FFS

Musashi be like °_°

LOOK AT THAT SMILE LMAO

He's just chilling, mentally killing this dude

Murder baby

Chapter 21

The way his eyes are drawn is so cool

YRAURSUFSIDTGA

And he jokes too! Wow I'm in love 😍

(nsfw) CAN YOU HANDLE DICK LIKE THAT TOO? 😍

WOW

I TAKE BACK THAT QUESTION

I remember a show where you would bring your own knives and swords and go thru a bunch of test, Musashi should have been one of them

Mf truly is like :]

I love how he didn't buy it

I can't wait for him to fight Yujiro 😍

Chapter 23

He truly is 😌

ATFJAIDQYSF OBSESSED

He was happy this time at least, 5 times he lost already btw

Tokugawa truly in unhateable lmao

Chapter 24

IM SORRY, HIS LEG???

Oh I forgot Musashi does that

JAGSKSGSKSGS HIS FUCKING FACE I CAN'T 😭

I miss when translators would add notes i don't want to google shit myself :/

"I'm hard as rock" /j

Chapter 25

Look how happy he issss

MUSASHI POG MUSASHI POG-

I love how Tokugawa can't believe he got it first try and it's trying to lie now sjdakdyv

This mf is actually making me insane what the actual fuck i don't know what he has but he's gonna make me act up 😳

Mf be shadow boxing too dammit /j

Baki please

Chapter 26

OLD MAN JUST WANTS A PUBLIC TO SEE THIS LMAO

Look at the size of Baki's eyes holy fuck lmao

He's gonna yeet him!

OH NOOOO

FIRST HIS DAD NOW MUSASHI, THIS GUY CANT CATCH A BREAK LMAO

Chapter 27

How little time passed? They have barely moved

Yeah you did it last book too Baki

King shit

Chapter 28

AKSGSKGSJSGS KING

I love how he only now realized

Okay no he has a point

I love how he just calls him boy

Look at that smug face

I trust Musashi but at the same time he, really should be walking around this new world alone. Now, if i were to accompany him... 🥴/j

Baki please

Chapter 29

I love how soft the artstyle suddenly got, like if done big a big brush

Yujiro you just insulted every single anime character in history

Baby Baki's just like "Ok."

I like how Yujiro looks here

AUGHHJF HE'S SO BABY 🥺

HOHO badass

Chapter 30

He died 😔

Idiot hasn't even beat he 0.5 reaction seconds lmao 🤣

HOHOOOOO?!? 👁️👁️

"my curiosity exceed my fear!!" I RESPECT THIS MAN SO MUCH??

Chapter 31

AMAIZING HONESTLY

Fighter to fighter communication

SHIT LOOK AT THE STATE OF THAT HAND

He's just gone now LMAO

I honestly don't mind Baki being weak against this, he never fought against a two handed swordman, this is new territory

Chapter 32

Oh his really tripping balls now this is why he shouldn't be alone

NVM HE'S STILL DOING BETTER THAN ME ON A DAILY BASIS, I HAVE A LOT TO LEARN FROM THIS MAN

I just now realized he's barefoot

Nice ass king

The policemen are quite nice

He's very cooperative but i can't blame the cops either

Chapter 33

Yeah no shit that must be so insane

IF YOU HADN'T DROPPED OFF SCHOOL THEN...

That's kinda funny but idk man he's right i think

He's just like :3

I love how he isn't picking up a fight out of malice but rather just instinct like, he can't understand shit that is going on

YOU ARE SO RIGHT BAKI IT ISN'T BORING FOR ME EITHER

Chapter 34

Don't you fucking dare shave him Itagaki

It's funny how it took 2 books and a half for Baki to start being a protagonist

Holy fuck did Baki add height or is Miyamoto that big?

Wow how perfect i ran out of space just now!! Having fun with this book ngl :]

#luly talks #baki liveblog #little gay creature sees famous swordsman from the 1600s and loses their mind #"i want his gender'' they claim #also for a man who was born 2 days ago 400 years in the future he sure understands shit better than me 😭#maybe i too should stop having so much anxiety and just get ready to throw hands at ant moment #like back in the day... ☺️(😞)#anyway point is uhh silly little fun saga <3

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

Photo

The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Or on FF

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda

Chapter 7: A Sky Full of Stars

Emma’s eyes squeezed shut as the door creaked closed behind her, letting the latch click quietly in place. She quickly toed off her shoes, setting them down softly in her closet, grabbing a pair of pajamas and tossing them over her head in the darkness of her room. She tiptoed toward her bed, pulling back the covers just as the table light clicked on.

“You did not think you could disappear all night and then try and sneak into bed without an explanation, did you?”

Emma’s shoulders sagged forward with a groan. “I’m not sneaking, I just didn’t want to disturb you.”

She turned to see Ruby sitting up in bed with her arms crossed in front of her.

“We waited for hours for you to show up tonight. Where were you?”

“I’m not a child, I just didn’t feel like dancing.” She sat down on her bed.

“So, you were just out, walking until…” She looked over at the clock. “Oh my God, Emma it’s 4am.” She leaned toward her. “Is that a hickey?”

Emma’s hand instinctively went to her neck. “What? No, of course not.”

“Emma, I know a hickey when I see one, and that one is right above your breast.” Emma looked down, seeing the reddened bruise above her breast line, she blushed, remembering Killian’s mouth sucking on her flesh earlier this evening. “You’re blushing. Oh my God, Emma, who is he? Have I met him? Holy shit, did you have sex?”

“Ruby my God, would you stop with all the questions.”

“Well, I know it wasn’t Graham, cuz he was with me all night asking questions about you. And I thought you didn’t like this Walsh guy?”

“Eww no.” She answered in disgust.

“Ok, so it’s not Graham and it’s not Walsh.”

“I’m not talking about this.” She grinned, lying down on her pillow, and pulling the blankets up over her neck.

“I can’t believe out of all of us, you’re the first one to get laid out here.”

“Good night, Ruby.” Emma protested.

“Emma you have to tell me something, anything.”

“I suppose I should thank you.” Emma laughed.

“Me? What did I do?”

“If it hadn’t been for those condom’s you gave me, tonight would have never happened.” She turned over toward the wall, a smile growing on her face. “Though I’m out now, so I’m going to have to get more from you.”

“Emma, oh my God, I gave you a packet of five.”

“Night Ruby.” She heard her friend mumble and turn off the light. She was sure she would face a barrage of questions tomorrow, but tonight she needed to sleep, her body exhausted, her skin still on fire from the memory of his mouth, the touch of his hands, and the warmth of his body.

~*~

Killian managed to get to the bridge an hour later than he normal would have. “Evening Captain.” His first officer greeted him as he reached the bridge at 4 am.

“Evening, Smee. I apologize for my lateness, I was…” He paused. “Delayed.”

“No problem, sir, it has been quiet tonight.”

“Get some sleep sir, I have the helm.” He dismissed his first mate, taking a seat in the Captain’s chair and staring out at the moonlit water. He was still hours from sunrise, his favorite time of the morning. He should be tired, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he tried. His mind was still on Emma, he had only just left her, but he longed to still be holding her, snuggling into her blonde locks, breathing her in as she nestled into his embrace.

He needed to do something, show her that the night had meant something to him. Beyond the carnal activities she had provided, he enjoyed spending time with the woman, talking to her, getting to know her.

Was that what he was doing with Emma?

Did he intend to get to know her, did he want to continue to know her past these next 8 days?

“Excuse me, Quartermaster?” The man turned toward him. “You are younger than me, you must have experience with members of the opposite sex.”

The man looked at him questioningly. “Yes, sir. I suppose I do.”

“Excellent, if you wanted to tell a woman that you had a pleasant evening with her, without also scaring her off, what would you do?”

“Flowers are always nice, Sir.”

“Flowers, why the bloody hell didn’t I think of that? Thank you, Mate.”

Killian scribbled down directions with a note to Emma and sent it with the Deck Cadet to place the order with the florist. He may not have intended to “hook up” with anyone on board, but he’d be damned if he was going to be anything but a gentleman, now that he had.

~*~

“Can you get your manager or something because I need this taken care of?” Emma stood firmly at the desk, holding the large painting in her hands.

“Yes Ma’am, one moment please.” The woman disappeared behind a door and returned with the man who had approached Killian the night they first met.

“How can I help you Ma’am?”

“As I was explaining to her, this painting was delivered to my room and I need to return it to the owner.”

“I’m sorry, was it delivered to your room by accident?”

“Well, no, it was gifted to me by another guest, but I don’t want the gift.”

“Can’t you just return it to the person who gave it to you?”

Emma exhaled, “I would love to, but seeing as I don’t know his last name, nor do I want to interact with him again, I would prefer you do it.”

“Alright, so you don’t exactly know who the guest is, but you want me to find the guest and give them back this painting?”

“I know who the guest is…well I know his first name.” She paused. “Look, I don’t want this damn thing, do you? Cuz I’d be happy to just give it to you.”

“Is there a problem here?”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut when she heard his voice behind her, spinning around she smiled up at him. “No problem, I just need to get rid of this damned painting, and as I was telling these two, I only know his first name, but I need this to get back to him.” She shoved the note that Walsh had left with the painting into Killian’s hands.

“And as I was just telling the lady, if we don’t know the guests full name then we…” Robin was explaining.

Killian crumpled the note in his hands. “We will take care of it.” he added quickly.

“Exactly. Wait, what?” Robin turned toward him incredulously.

“Please take the information she has, and we will make sure to find the mysterious suitor to return the artwork. If you’ll both excuse me, I have a tour to attend.” Killian nodded to Robin, and then met her gaze, passing the crumpled note back to her before winking and walking toward the atrium.

Emma pushed the painting across the desk, smoothing out the note to lay on top of it, “As you can see by the note, his name is Walsh. I have to go.” She turned and ran off in the direction Killian was headed, ignoring Robin’s protests behind her.

She caught up to him as she turned the corner opening into the large atrium. “Killian.” He turned toward her.

“Emma.” He said with a grin. “Sleep well?”

She bit her lip, “Very.” They began walking through the atrium. “Thank you for assisting back there, I just can’t have that painting in my room anymore.”

“Well at least he didn’t lie in his note to you. You are very beautiful.”

She blushed, “That was not the point.”

“Of course not.” He paused his steps, coming to a halt. “I apologize for needing to leave, but I really do have a tour.”

“I know, I thought I would try and warn you first, I’m in the tour, with my friends.”

“Oh, I see.” He stammered out nervously.

“And my brother.” She added.

“Oh my, and do they…”

“Know that I spent the evening being ravished by the Captain? No.”

He smirked, “Ravished, you say?”

She felt her cheeks heat up before she ran off ahead of him to join her group who were getting an introduction from the ships Cruise Director, Regina, who was leading their tour.

Her friends were waiting for her at the tour start location. “There you are, I wasn’t sure if you were going to skip out on us again.” Will whined as she approached him and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“And miss seeing you, never.” She saw Belle standing next to him and smiled.

“I convinced him to take a scuba lesson with me tomorrow.”

Emma peered at Will. “Oh really? I am impressed, you told me you would never do something that required you to breathe under water.”

“Oi, don’t rub it in, I’m still not happy about it.” Emma winked at Belle as he continued to complain.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, I am your Captain, Killian Jones and I’ll be joining your tour today, Ms. Mills does an excellent tour and I try and join when I can to answer any of your questions.” His eyes were directed at her, his smile spreading across his face before he quickly looked away. “How many of you have been on a cruise before?” When there were not many hands raised, he laughed. “Seems we are all newbies.” He paused.

“Oi, you mean you’ve never Captain’d a ship before?”

“Not a cruise ship, no, my last job was just a small skip, but before that I was sailing battleships, I can assure you, I am quite experienced and it’s much easier to sail a cruise ship when there are no enemies lurking around the corner.”

“Like pirates?” Will responded and Killian chuckled.

“I haven’t seen any pirates on the waters since we set sail, I’ll be sure to alert you if I see any.”

Emma jabbed her elbow into Will’s side, “Stop harassing him.”

“If we have no more questions, I’ll let Regina lead the way.” She followed him down the hallway, Regina pointing out different parts of the ship, Killian stopping to answer all the questions they had. Regina was a very experienced tour guide, but she preferred her private tour with Killian better.

When they got to the bridge, Emma wandered through the area, stopping to remember the kiss she shared with the Captain at the helm.

“I bet you get all the ladies being a Captain.” Will continued to barrage Killian at every step.

She watched as his head dipped, a blush darkening his cheeks as Regina spoke. “Generally, the Captain is much too busy with the duties of the ship to chase women.”

“Is it against the rules for a Captain to date his passengers?” Ruby flirted in the Captain’s direction.

“It is definitely frowned upon and a rule the Captain employs with all of his crew.” Regina answered once again.

“Too bad, he’s hot as hell.” Her friend whispered into her ear.

“Shh.” Emma looked up to see Killian grinning at her before showing Will how to steer the ship. She could feel her ears burning, pulling her hair over them to hide the blush.

The tour continued to the back of the theater, Regina providing her background as an entertainer on her previous ship while everyone watched the crew building a large staircase for the show that evening. Emma saw Killian standing at the back of the group and quietly made her way beside him.

“A Captain who doesn’t follow his own rules? Interesting.” She said softly.

“It is quite scandalous.” He said, staring straight ahead. “In fact, I broke many rules just sneaking you down to my quarters.”

Her head shot up to meet his eyes, a smirk deviously planted on his face. “You are a bad boy.”

“I am behaving quite terribly indeed. Perhaps we should end this at once?” He sang softly in her direction.

“Considering you have already broken so many rules, it’s not like obeying them now will change anything.”

“Are you suggesting I continue with this disreputable behavior?”

“That depends?”

“On what, love?”

She started to walk back toward her friends before glancing in his direction, “Whether or not your balcony is involved.” He licked his lips and Emma’s heart rate increased as she joined her group, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest. She was playing a very dangerous game.

What was it about this man that made her feel so bold?

“You said you sailed a battleship before, were you in the Navy?” Emma tuned back into the conversation as her brother approached Killian.

“Aye, I was discharged a little more than two years ago.”

“Must be crazy going from a ship like that to a luxury liner. Sailing in the line of duty is much different than doing so for pleasure I would assume.”

“Aye, but there is still much to be done. In the Navy we fight for each other, we sail to survive. Out here, I carry precious cargo that needs to be tended to. Either way, my job is to ensure the safety for all onboard.”

“My brother is a cop, so you are speaking his language.” She joked, inserting herself into the conversation.

“A very commendable profession indeed.” Killian added with a nod.

“Our friend, Graham over there is a Sheriff. Been trying to set my sister up with him all week. She needs a little law and order in her life.”

Emma paled and choked out a laugh. “Ok, enough information David, I’m sure Kil…the Captain is not interested in my love life.” Killian’s devious grin had her nervously shifting on her feet, her arousal making her uncomfortable.

“Good luck in your endeavors for your sister, David.” Killian nodded in her direction and went back to the larger group.

As soon as he was out of range, Emma slapped her brother on the arm. “Oh my God, don’t tell everyone you meet that you are trying to hook me up with random men.” Emma scolded her brother.

“Come on Emma, live a little. Graham would be very suitable for you.”

“That sounds like a code word for boring and not at all interesting to me.”

“Not everyone can be a criminal whisking you off your feet into a life of danger and intrigue.”

She narrowed her eyes, “I made one mistake, that doesn’t mean I need you to control my life going forward.”

He stepped back, “You’re right. I’m just trying to find you a nice man.”

“I can do that on my own.”

“You have a type, Emma. And it’s not usually good for you.”

“I appreciate that you care about me David, I do. And I love you, but please let me handle my own love life.”

“What love life? You avoid men like the plague, I’ve yet to see you interact with anyone on board this ship. I worry about you being alone and Henry not having a father as he grows up.”

“Woah, look, I’m here to have fun, which by the way, I am, thank you for asking, but I’m not here looking for a dad for my kid.” She knew her brother meant well, but he tended to go overboard when he was playing the father figure role. “David, you’re supposed to be here for fun too, not babysit me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

“I know, you’re right. I just want to see you happy. You deserve that. You do so much for Henry, I want you to have something for Emma too.”

“I appreciate that. And I have been talking to people on this trip. You aren’t with me 24/7.”

“Oh really, and who would you be talking to, is it this Walsh guy I keep hearing about?”

“God no, not him. But maybe I’ve been enjoying time with someone, but we are most definitely not going to talk about it.” She winked at him and then grabbed him by the hand, dragging him back to the group.

~*~

Killian managed to get through the rest of the tour unscathed, doing his best to avoid any additional awkwardness with Emma. When the tour ended, he parted ways with the passengers, reluctantly leaving Emma with her friends, joining Regina in the atrium.

“Very well done, you give a great tour.”

“Thank you, I’ve trained hard for this job, it’s nice to hear someone appreciate it.” He laughed lightly, walking toward the Purser desk to check in on Robin. “However, maybe next time you should work on not making eyes with the passengers.”

“I beg your pardon. I was not making eyes at anyone.”

She scoffed. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

“There you are.” Robin announced, popping up at the desk. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to find a passenger with no last name.” he looked up and saw Regina standing next to him. “Hello, love.”

“Good afternoon, Robin. Please tell me what reason we have for trying to find a passenger with no last name?”

“No need, I can find him, I’ve seen him around.” Killian interrupted.

“How do you know who he is based off his first name, there has to be more than one Walsh on board, how can you be certain it is the man who gave this woman a very nice painting?”

“Let me worry about it.” He picked up the painting from behind the desk.

“Do I want to know what any of this is about?” Regina asked.

“I’m not sure I want to know what this is about.” Robin complained.

“For once it’s not you that’s acting shady, Rob.” Regina smiled in Robin’s direction, which caused Killian’s eyebrow to rise in surprise.

“I can if you want me too.” Robin flirted leaning into the counter as Regina tapped her fingers on the desk.

“Maybe after a few drinks.” She turned toward him, ignoring his questioning gaze, and walked away.

“Um, suddenly she’s calling you Rob?” Killian inquired.

“Why do you know who Walsh is? And does this have anything to do with you not attending the crew party last night, or that blonde woman I keep finding you with?”

Killian tapped his ear, realizing it was better for him to retreat than continue his discussion. “Fortunately, I have Captain duties to perform, so I will see you later, Mate.” He shouted over his shoulder, carrying the painting with him as he whistled a tune.

~*~

“Ruby says that you’re a bouncer at the bar you guys work at?” Emma looked up as Graham spoke. She was sitting nervously alone with the man at the bar. Everyone conveniently coming up with plans they had as soon as the two of them sat down at the table.

“Um, yeah, I know it’s not as cool as being a Sheriff or a cop, but I like it.”

“I have never really thought of my job as cool. Frightening at times, but never cool.” He paused. “It doesn’t really give me a lot of time to do things on my own, like date or have a life.”

“Yes, trust me I understand that. I’m not sure if everyone told you, but I have a son at home, he’s six.”

“I think I heard David mention him in passing. That must be difficult to handle on your own.”

“He’s a great kid, and everyone helps out, honestly I don’t know what I would do without my friends. Ruby and her mom babysit all the time. David is always helping out with yardwork and repairs, August gives me time off for parent teacher conferences, soccer games, and Will…” She chuckled thinking about all the times that Will had stepped in to be the father figure Henry needed when he didn’t have one. “Will has been the best friend anyone could ever ask for.”

She smiled at him, he was very attractive, friendly, and she could tell he was an honest and good man. But Emma wasn’t interested in him no matter how much she tried to seek an attraction like her brother and Ruby kept pushing for. Maybe it was because he was too settled, too secure in what he wanted and had in his life. Emma knew that wasn’t fair, she should want that in a man.

“It’s nice to get help from those around you. Perhaps you would have room for others who would be interested in participating in your life.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Graham. You seem like a really nice guy…”

“But��” He laughed.

“I’m not really looking for a relationship, I’m not in that place in my head. And you seem like the kind of guy that would want that, and that’s great, any girl would be lucky to get that from you, but that’s just not me.”

“Ah. The kiss of death, you’re giving me the it’s-me-not-you-speech.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds awful. I’m really not an awful person.”

“No, you’re not. Just very honest, which I appreciate.”

“Have I told you how great Ruby is?” She laughed. “Because I have stories for days about why she is deserving of a nice guy like you.”

“Your friend is very nice, honestly the only reason I came over to talk to your group in the first place was because of her, but then she kept talking about you the whole time that I got the impression she wasn’t interested.”

“That sounds like Ruby. She’s always willing to push the good guy to me, despite her own interests.” He looked around the bar awkwardly. “She usually goes to the pool for a late swim on the lido deck about this time.”

“Oh, did I make it that obvious?”

“No need to apologize, please, you won’t offend me if you suddenly feel the need for a swim.”

He excused himself politely with an eager look on his face and Emma headed back to her room, exhaustion finally hitting her from lack of sleep from the previous evening. Turning the corner to her room she spotted Will and Belle exiting his room. When they passed her in the hall, Will’s face was red from embarrassment. “Enjoy your evening you two.” She teased.

“Goodnight Emma.” Belle adjusted her hair, tucking her blouse back together.

She clicked her card at her door and opened it into her room. The first thing she spotted was the giant bouquet of flowers and she groaned as she shut the door behind her. She was going to find out where this Walsh guy was staying and give him a piece of her mind.

She sniffed the flowers, yanking the card from the plastic stem. They were beautiful. Sliding the card from the envelope she peered down, bracing for the next creepy thing Walsh would say to her, only to be surprised by the sender.

“A sky full of stars, and he was staring at her.”

Until we meet again, CJ

Emma stared at the flowers, her heart racing. She lay back on her bed, staring at the card in her hand, a smile on her face reserved only for Captain Jones.

#TLC #The love cruise #killian jones #emma swan #stacy's fics #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au

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justkindaoverhereobsessing · 4 years

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so big/so small

In which a nightmare prompts Ziva and Tali to have a little ice cream and a much-needed heart-to-heart.

Written for my friend drabble project, this time for my dear friend @zikaiuris! I appreciate you so much, Alex! <3 The title and a few paraphrased quotes are from “So Big/So Small” from Dear Evan Hansen.

Drabble also available to read on AO3 or ff.

_____________________

It’s nearing four in the morning when something jolts Ziva awake. The instincts that have served her well for many years are humming, telling her that something is amiss. She doesn’t know what it is, but something is wrong.

She no longer keeps a gun by her bed—a suggestion from her therapist, who seems to think letting go of that physical safeguard will help her let down her mental barriers, too—but it doesn’t matter. Since beginning her training for Mossad nearly two decades ago, she hasn’t really needed a weapon.

Ziva David is the weapon, and that’s something she’ll never grow out of.

She sits up quickly, flicks the bedside light on, and scans the room; nothing seems out of place at all. Tony is sleeping silently beside her, the light no bother to him at all, and his hand is still resting lightly on her thigh. Ziva debates waking him, but there’s nothing so far that suggests she’s not just being paranoid.

She climbs out of bed and heads for the hall, keeping her eyes and ears alert for any suspicious changes in the Parisian flat Tony and Tali settled into several years ago… and she’s only a few steps from the bedroom she shares with Tony when she hears something that sends her running.

“No! No, Ima! Ima, please!”

It’s Tali.

A second later, Ziva is bursting into Tali’s room. Thankfully, it’s almost immediately clear what’s happening—Tali is still fast asleep, deep in the throes of what appears to be a nightmare. There’s no external threat, nothing to fight off; that doesn’t stop Ziva’s heart from racing for several long moments, however.

She crouches down next to her daughter’s bed, hating the sight of the trembling little frown on Tali’s face.

“Ima, please don’t—please don’t, I don’t want you to—no, Daddy, please stop her!”

Very concerned, Ziva hastens to wake Tali, being as gentle as possible. She isn’t sure exactly what the five-year-old is dreaming of, only that it must be unpleasant. “Tali, little one, open your eyes. It is all going to be alright—wake up now, my love.”

It takes a few moments of gentle petting and murmuring, but Tali finally opens her eyes, blinking into the dim light shed by her night light. “Tali, are you alright?” Ziva asks quietly, not wanting to startle the girl.

“Ima?” The question is a little disbelieving, its speaker not yet fully awake.

“I am right here,” Ziva promises quickly.

“Ima!” All at once, Tali’s tone of sleepy confusion gives way to sorrow, and she bursts into tears.

Alarmed, Ziva perches on the side of Tali’s bed and gathers her daughter into her arms. “Tali, what is the matter? Shush now, ahava, there is nothing to worry about. Take a deep breath, yes? Ima has you now.”

Tali doesn’t answer and she doesn’t immediately calm, but she clutches onto Ziva until her tears slow and then finally stop. “I had a bad dream,” she mumbles into Ziva’s neck, wiping her wet face on her mother’s shirt.

“I thought that might be the case,” Ziva shares, kissing Tali’s temple and tightening her hold slightly. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Tali shakes her head wordlessly, and Ziva nods. “That is alright. You do not have to say anything.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and despite what she just told her daughter, Ziva gets concerned when Tali’s arms never loosens their hold and the little one never speaks… truly her father’s daughter, it’s unlike Tali to go for very long without speaking, especially when she’s experiencing strong emotions of any kind.

Making the executive decision that one night of poor sleep and excessive sugar intake won’t hurt the almost-6-year-old, Ziva gets to her feet, automatically adjusting her hold until Tali’s on her hip like she’s still a toddler and not a too-quickly growing girl. “Come, Tali-girl. I know just the thing.”

Tali lifts her head as they emerge into the hall, her curiosity pushing away her lingering distress for the moment. “Where are we going?” she wants to know.

“Patience! You will see!” There’s a smile in Ziva’s voice that she’s sure Tali can hear even if it’s too dark to see, and she gives the girl a little bounce.

When they reach the kitchen, Ziva deposits Tali on the counter. A murmur of “stay here for a moment” and she leaves her daughter’s side to dig a pint of ice cream out of the freezer. On her way back, she flips the light on so they can see one another properly.

Tali sees the ice cream, and her face—still heavy and sad—brightens. “Ice cream? At night!?”

“Ice cream is good for sadness, yes?” Ziva suggests warmly, pulling out a few spoons and setting them alongside the ice cream tub on the counter next to Tali.

“Hey, that’s what Abba says, too!” Tali shares, slightly impressed by her mother’s unexpected decision to temporarily abandon healthy eating.

“Who do you think I learned it from?” Ziva teases lightly, hopping up on the counter on the other side of the ice cream. She pulls the top off the tub, hands Tali a spoon, and the two dig into the sweet treat in companionable silence, both swinging their feet lightly against the cabinets below them.

Eventually, Tali speaks, though she doesn’t look at Ziva as she does so. “I had a bad dream,” she says again.

“Oh?”

“I dreamed that…” Tali pauses and takes a bite of ice cream. After she swallows, she sighs. “I dreamed that you went away again.”

There’s something heavy in her voice, too heavy for a five-year-old to carry, and it breaks Ziva’s heart. “Tali, I would not—”

“I dreamed you didn’t want me ‘n Abba anymore.”

That admission arrests Ziva’s voice deep in her throat, and for a moment, she can’t answer.

Tali takes another bite of ice cream, staring at the floor.

“Is that what you think?” Ziva asks finally after several tight swallows.

“No,” Tali says too quickly.

Ziva sighs, experiencing a sensation that has plagued her since reuniting with her family; it’s the feeling that no matter how many steps forward she takes, she’ll never stop taking steps back whether she wants to or not.

She slides off the counter and moves to stand in front of Tali, putting a hand under Tali’s chin and pulling her small face up until their eyes meet; with her other hand, she gently pries Tali’s spoon from her fingers and rests it back in the ice cream tub. “Tali,” she murmurs, tired and tender.

“Mm?”

“I need you to understand something. Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, Ima.”

“Good girl.” Ziva gives her daughter a small smile; it’s all she can muster, but it seems to reassure Tali anyway. “I need you to understand, sweet girl, that I always wanted you and Abba… especially when I could not be with you.”

“But you weren’t here!” Tali protests, her lower lip and chin starting to quiver again. Her eyes glaze over with a new film of yet unshed tears.

“I know, darling. I know. But there was nothing I wanted more than to be here.” Until tonight, Ziva had been under the impression that Tali had not questioned her and Tony’s very simplified explanation for her long absence, but now it seems that Tali was merely accepting what they said in favor of not disturbing the peace.

It’s a choice that no child should ever have to make—something no child should ever have to even consider.

“But you weren’t here!” Tali repeats, and a few little tears spill from her eyes onto her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter if you want us, ‘cause you wanted us before and you still went away! I don’t want you to leave again!”

Ziva reaches up to swipe the girl’s tears away, heartened by the fact that Tali doesn’t shrug her off. “Ahava shelli, I think it may be time to tell you more of the story.”

“What story?”

“The story of why you went to live with Abba when you were little.”

She and Tony discussed this in the very beginning—they talked about what Tali had already been told and how much more—and when—to tell her, but it seems that Tali has her own timeline. It’s not fair to avoid answering her questions when being left so entirely in the dark is clearly hurting her.

With that in mind, Ziva starts to talk. She doesn’t go into detail, and she still glosses over the darkest parts of the story… but she tells Tali the very basics of what happened. She explains that there was a very bad woman who wanted to hurt them all, and how in order to protect Tali and Abba, Ziva had to run. She tucks Tali’s hair behind her little ears and tells her that she never lost hope that she’d be able to come back to her family, that Tali and Abba were in her mind every moment of every day, even as she traversed the globe looking for answers and for help.

Ziva isn’t sure how much of the story Tali is really absorbing, but for once in her young life, Tali doesn’t interrupt. She just listens, nodding or shaking when she’s asked a question but otherwise remaining still and quiet.

When Ziva finishes, she squeezes Tali’s little hand, which found its way into her own a few minutes ago. “Does all of that make sense?”

Tali nods, but there’s still a small frown furrowing her brow.

“Do you have questions?”

“Yeah. Is she dead? The lady that wanted to hurt us, did she die?”

“Yes, Tali.” Oh, how Ziva wishes Tali didn’t know what death meant! She won’t lie to her daughter, though... not when the question is this straightforward, not when it’s this simple and it’s an age-appropriate thing to ask.

“So she won’t hurt you anymore?”

“No. She will not hurt anyone anymore.”

“Did you kill her?”

Ziva swallows, thankful that for now, she doesn’t have to look her daughter in the eye and confess to being a killer. “No, I did not.” She doesn’t add that she would have done so without hesitation had Gibbs not taken the shot he took, though.

Tali seems to accept this, and Ziva takes the break in her daughter’s questioning to reinforce an idea. “Do you see now, however, that I would never be parted from you if I did not have to be?”

“Yeah,” Tali agrees, and now it sounds like she means it.

Ziva draws her into another hug, relishing in the feel of her daughter’s small head resting once more on her bosom. Ziva will never tire of that, nor will she take it for granted. “Good,” she murmurs into Tali’s ear. “Because I will never leave you again. Never. There is not a force in the world strong enough to pull me from your side—no matter what. I am not going anywhere; I will stay right here. No matter what, I will be here, where I belong: with you.”

She can feel Tali smile. “Promise, Ima?”

“I promise. I will hold you whenever you need me to—when it all feels so big, until it all feels so small. I love you more than you will ever understand.”

“I love you, too.” There’s a pause, and then Tali’s head pops back up, a grin on her face that Ziva wasn’t expecting. “Ima?”

“Yes?”

“Can we finish the ice cream now?”

Ziva laughs, extraordinarily glad that Tali is appeased enough to have moved on entirely. “Yes. But you must promise not to tell Abba that we did. He will tickle us mercilessly if he finds that we finished his favorite Moose Tracks without letting him help, yes?”

Tali mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the lock.

“That is my girl,” Ziva says warmly, and she hands Tali her spoon again.

Tali won’t always be so easily placated, Ziva knows… but for now, it’s enough to sit side-by-side on the counter again, eating an unreasonable amount of sugar. It’s enough to believe for a moment, as Tali does, that the world is simple and black and white and that asking a few questions can solve any problems. It’s enough to experience this little slice of life that Ziva came so close to losing entirely...

No, that’s not quite right.

It’s more than enough.

#ncis fanfiction #tivali #ziva david #tali david dinozzo #cynthia writes stuff too #tiva #tony dinozzo #friend drabble project #number idk #anyway thank you for always being a wonderful friend and supporter alex!#can't wait for our adventure to nyc and porto and scotland! <3 #hope you enjoy this girl!#you deserve allllll the fics!

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normadeathmond · 4 years

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the spanish princess ep 2 thoughts

I’ve been enjoying all the reaction posts so here’s mine (spoilers included):

- I’ve had kind of a revelation this week regarding The Spanish Princess. This show is basically the modern day version of those dubiously accurate medieval historical chronicles. Not only do we have extra supernatural elements (the cuuuuurse, prophetic dreams), but we also have the contemporary authors’ personal biases inserted all over the place, and the addition of mythical stories about the heroes (Catherine fighting at Flodden this week). For some reason, this has made me a lot more forgiving towards the show. (it probably also helps that my fave Maggie B is dead now, so I don’t have to worry about them shitting all over her anymore, and I don’t have a particularly strong attachment to any of the other historical figures depicted)

- erm wtf, did anyone else catch that scene with Maggie and Edmund de la Pole in the previously on that we’ve never seen before?? I guess this plotline was supposed to be included in episode one as well, which probably would’ve helped it feel a bit more developed and less like something they suddenly remembered had to be tied up from last year. The whole sequence of Edmund being reintroduced and killed off in less than five minutes was very rushed.

- I’m glad baby Henry’s death hasn’t been totally forgotten, but do we really need so many grief-stricken sex scenes between these two? These are supposed to be the years they’re deeply in love, let them have some happier sex

- ehh I’m not sure that Catherine’s big reveal to the council actually changes much. A very early pregnancy, possibly with a girl, doesn’t really make the line secure. I think the focus should have been on Henry’s own desire to prove himself in battle, which would also have added to the humiliation when Catherine successfully defeats the Scots while his military exploits fizzle out.

- I really like General Howard, Peter Egan is fantastic (albeit a bit too polished for a grouchy, uncouth soldier type)

- “and now this book is closed” - god I hope so, bc I hate Maggie’s plotline from last year. It was interminable watching her whinge about how unfair it was that the Tudors suspected her of plotting against them because she had always been the most loyal person ever, as though she was suffering from some kind of selective memory loss about literally being a spy for the Yorkist rebellion in The White Princess. ffs Maggie can be either a completely innocent woman unfairly maligned by the Tudors or she can be a badass Yorkist rebel, not both.

- it seems her memory problems are back this episode because she goes storming off to complain to Catherine about Edmund de la Pole getting his head chopped off, conveniently forgetting than she was also heavily involved in his plot and her family is only out of the Tower thanks to Catherine interceding for her with Henry. Catherine was 100% in the right here, Edward of Warwick was innocent whereas Edmund de la Pole was a fully cognisant adult who spearheaded a revolt to take the throne (and likely would’ve had both Henry VII and Henry VIII killed if he had succeeded), so the idea that she’s suddenly heartless because she apologised for the former’s death but not the latter’s is ridiculous. The whole scene, including Maggie’s kids’ ‘whoomp here she goes again’ reactions, unintentionally have her coming off as rather hysterical.

- hopefully the rest of her story this season focuses on her mending her relationship with her sad silent son instead and possibly getting her leg over Thomas More

- ahhh Lina’s face when Catherine bitchily says she’ll be having a girl. Catherine’s not going to be able to stop herself from lashing out at her now that she has twin boys.

- first the clothes comment last episode, now they have Ursula saying Charles may not be good-looking but he’s rich as fuck. I guess she’s being set up as a gold-digger.

- is it just me or does the Anne Boleyn’s actress look a little bit like Charlotte Hope? The dress they had her in when Henry returns even looks like something Catherine would’ve worn in season one. I’ve no idea why they’ve brought the Boleyn girls in this early though – are they going to be sent to France then come back later? Henry still has to make his way through Anne Hastings, Bessie Blount and Mary Boleyn before he gets to Anne. The episode summaries make it look like his infidelities won’t start until episode four so he’s going to have to have a new girl every episode to get through them all.

- I’ve kind of come around on the whole Catherine-in-armour thing. Frock Flicks wrote an interesting article this week where they pointed out that while historically battle armour for women did not exist and women very rarely wore armour, depictions of women in armour have been around for a long time and would have existed in the Tudor period. In this pseudo-historical retelling of Catherine’s story mythologizing her as a warrior queen, it does make sense to carry on that visual tradition and have her armoured up.

- Unfortunately I think they did kind of undermine the visual impact of the armour on screen by focusing on it so heavily in the promos for the season. Possibly it wouldn’t have affected a casual viewer so much, but anyone who’s followed the show’s promo cycle has been seeing pictures and clips of Catherine in the armour for weeks now, and when she entered stomping down the corridor in her full battle gear it didn’t blow me away like the first look at that outfit should have done.

- I know this series is never going to have the budget of Game of Thrones, but Flodden was a disappointment, from the rousing speech (“mothers are warriors too, amirite ladies?”) to the battle itself. You can tell they really wanted this to be their big epic action sequence and unfortunately it felt underwhelming. I remember the battles in TWQ/TWP being much more impressive, for what was probably a similar budget.

- as soon as I saw how heavily pregnant Lina was this episode, I knew a birth/battle juxtaposition was coming. I get what they were trying to do with the whole ‘childbirth is women’s battlefield’ theme, but the attempt to fake-out Lina’s death fell flat - there’s no way they were killing her off. (I’m not sure why she was giving birth in the hallway, with apparently no midwives, but it was inadvertently hilarious watching Maggie - the only one with any childbirth experience - try and talk her through it while the other three were basically no help at all.)

- also everyone being like “omg Princess Mary you can’t possibly be at the birth” felt so out of place given that Meg and Catherine were both hanging around a battlefield at the same time

- on the one hand I did like that Catherine didn’t end up being some amazing warrior just off instinct; she’s almost immediately pulled off her horse, staggers around looking confused as fuck and then is shocked when she actually kills someone. But on the other, what was the point of all the warrior queen build up if she barely even does anything useful on the battlefield? (also why did they have her kill someone who looked so much like James?? I’ve seen several people think she killed James herself and I thought that too until he was shown being taken down afterwards - it was needlessly confusing)

- JAAAAMES. I’m so sad he’s gone. Georgie Henley knocked it out the park this episode, especially in her big mourning scene. Although given how sweet he and Meg were this episode, and her comment about him being her best friend, it just makes the punch last episode seem even stranger.

- I’m so sad we were robbed of seeing Catherine try to send James’ corpse to Henry as a victory gift and have to be talked into sending just the coat. If you’re going to make her ride out in armour let her keep her savage penchant for gruesome war trophies!

- oop, Catherine absolutely fails to sell the lie that she’s pleased about Lina’s two boys, and Lina can definitely tell.

- with Maggie B gone, Wolsey is the new evil religious cockblocker in town!

- I would like twenty more scenes of Lina and Oviedo being cute and bitching about their work days thanks

- I like Catherine defending Howard to Henry. It would have been nice if there was more time to show the development of a begrudging respect between those two.

- overall I found this episode disappointing. The big sequences weren’t impressive in the way last week’s were and there weren’t enough character moments to make up for that. I’m still looking forward to the rest of the season though, especially Meg, Mary and Maggie’s storylines.

#the spanish princess

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

Text

Feels Like This (Part 2)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1 Here. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Oh my god, guys, I am not going to lie, I am having so much fun writing this fic! I have missed having new stories to explore so much, and I am so eternally grateful for all of you who kept pushing me to do another Royal AU. I didn’t realize how much I was going to love doing this again until I started, and now I have so much I want to explore, and so much fluff and cuteness in my head I can’t wait to share with you all. I hope you will enjoy this chapter. Keep in mind, I know it’s been a slower burn so far, but I promise the pay off will be perfect. In the meantime, you’ll see where Killian is in this fic, and the people in his life who will become important characters to the rest of the story. Some are based on the show, some are added additions as you’ll see. For example, I always name Killian’s mom ‘Meera’ in my fics, I know it kind of sounds like Milah, but they’re not the same and I chose that name originally because of its meaning and because of a poem I read long ago – the sounds was coincidence. Anyway, that being said, I hope you will enjoy, and thank you so much for reading!

“Well, mates, we’ve finally done it. Our twelve-month stint is complete and all our sorry asses are heading home. Never thought I’d see the day.”

The words from Will Scarlet hung between Killian and his friends where they sat in the cargo hold of a military aircraft flying over the last piece of the sea that separated them all from home. They had just finished their active deployment in a classified location, and it had been immersive and seemingly unending. With limited contact to the outside world, and a constant goal of getting their mission done, these officers and their subordinates had worked hard to serve their country and its citizens. It had been trying times, and the task at hand was hard, but this was what they trained for. The Montenarro elite naval force was as selective as it was distinguished, and every man and woman serving in it was considered a national hero. But Killian hated that term, and he hated it more than anything when it was used in conjunction with his other loathed title – prince.

“You nearly didn’t make it, Scar-boy. If you hadn’t had Hook watching your back, you’d be dead ten times over.”

Killian smirked at the bit of teasing from Robin. That nickname for Scarlet was classic and well earned, given how many near misses he’d had with a tragic, awful death. But the boy part was bestowed thanks to Scarlet’s enduring childishness. His old friend always brought a laugh, and he could sober up when things got serious, but he couldn’t apply that sense of military discipline or responsibility to the rest of his life. He was a man child: unruly and a bit manic, but now that they were coming home, Killian hoped Will might figure things out. Meanwhile, Killian’s nickname, Hook, had at one time been a huge resentment for him. He’d earned the moniker in a notorious fight off base years ago just upon entering the royal command. The man he laid out with a single punch was a right jack ass, who’d made a show of harassing women and spewing all kinds of ignorant crap the whole bloody night, but the headline of the moment was that the ‘rebel prince’ had struck again. His superiors were furious, and he was punished accordingly, but it was his brother, the King, who had dealt the harshest blow.

“You set one more foot out of line and I will bring you back home. If you’re going to make a spectacle of yourself, you’ll damn well do it somewhere our mother doesn’t have to worry about your safety.”

That was enough to set Killian to rights, because despite the seemingly charmed nature of his life, home was synonymous with hardship and discomfort. Being royalty was a constant burden of saving face and proper manners. He loved his brother, his mother, and his Gran, but they fit into that world with ease and a natural charm he didn’t possess. They loved shaking hands and kissing babies, took great pride in parades and national addresses, and knew how to ‘operate society.’ Killian, on the other hand, couldn’t stand it. He never blended well, never trusted easy. He’d met one too many snakes in Montenarro’s royal court and he didn’t need any more lessons on the hidden intentions people carried. It would sound mad to the average person, but there was a similar sense of dread he shared on deployment and at home, and on the good days, when he and his men were all safe with a job well done, he was vastly happier in his profession than in his personal life at home. At least he felt like he was serving something, and participating in a duty that was bigger than hollow gestures and picture perfect moments.

“The most important thing is no one’s dead,” Tink murmured from her spot on the other side of the hold. She was damn right about that. “We made it through another tour and I, for one, am out of here.”

“Olive will be glad to have you home, love,” Graham stated, patting their friend on the arm a few times in a signal to her extra sacrifice made these long months.

The mention of Tink’s daughter made her smile and in any other person tears no doubt would have shown in their eyes at the mention of such a reunion, but not Tink. This woman might be the smallest of their platoon but she was the fiercest and honestly the smartest. She was also brave as could be and composed at every moment. He’d asked her once how she could manage that, given everything that they saw and went through. Every one of them had moments of grave impact, where the stress or straight out fear crept in and took root, but not Tink. Her response was simply stated though it seemed impossible to comprehend:

‘When you have a reason to get home, a part of you that needs you, you don’t have the luxury of breaking down. Everything I have needs to go towards one thing – surviving. I have to get back for her and she matters more than everything else. No matter what I see here, she’s my beacon home.”

“The day I left, I promised her that this was my last tour,” Tink said, surprising everyone except for Killian with the revelation. She’d confided in him about her plan to leave their unit a few months back, and when the paperwork needed to get to higher ups to unenlist from front-line duty he helped her, knowing she was owed that after years of faithful service to the crown. “I didn’t want to mention it because I knew exactly what you’d all say.”

“You’re leaving us?” Will asked and the tone in his voice was like someone had kicked him in the gut. For someone so full of bluster, he caved in quick, and while Graham and Robin didn’t sound quite so stricken, they too were surprised.

“I took a land command. You’re looking at the royal navy’s newest pencil pusher,” she said with a huge grin. “Six years ago I’d have laughed in your face if you told me how happy that would make me.”

“But that was before,” Killian said, understanding her instinct to be with her daughter and the change she needed to make her family whole again.

“You always get it, Cap. But what about you – you think you’ve got another tour left in you?”

Ah shit. Here was the moment of truth. He couldn’t lie when faced with Tink’s question, but he had been denying the inevitable even to himself for so long. Every tour his brother told him this would be the last one, but every time he waivered when Killian returned and asked to leave once more. Killian had been serving for more than fifteen years now, a decorated Captain who had earned his own way and proven his merit. He knew he was well respected and highly capable, but that would stop meaning anything to Liam soon. No matter how good a Captain Killian was, his duty, as Liam saw it, was to be the prince and the second in line. He had obligations at home, and as loathed as that life was, Killian considered himself lucky. His family had given him the freedom of finding something more like normal all these years. Here, with his crew, he was normal. He wasn’t a monarch, but a man, part of a team even if he was a leader, and there was no bull shit muss or fuss. Now that would likely end, but despite wishing he could come back, Killian was grateful for what he’d been able to do and the friends he’d been able to meet.

“I serve at the pleasure of the King,” Killian hedged. “But I think it likely my assignments will be changing this go around.”

“What he means to say is he’ll be dodging the ladies at court and fending off those investment cats always vying for access to the royal purse,” Graham joked. Killian only shrugged, not able to contradict the man, as he was probably dead on.

“I’d take the desert twice over before I took that shit,” Will said, and for once, Killian had to agree with him, but it didn’t matter either way.

Soon enough the plane that was flying them back to base was prepared to land. Their descent was easy, but the feelings that Killian grappled with were not. There was relief of course when the doors opened and they were back on land. They’d been serving in dangerous places, running on borrowed time with too many close calls. Even the plain façade of their base near the capital couldn’t hide the beauty of Montenarro. Many people called this country too small to notice, but what it lacked for in size, it made up for in location. Nestled on the Mediterranean, with a range of coastlines and mountain range, this nation lived in a world that was warm and where the sun shone brightly and often. Today, the coast was clear and glorious, but the mountains weren’t far and the foot hills were lush this time of year. The greenery around them was a luxury compared to the barren wastelands they’d been encamped in, but beyond the walls of this military compound lay his real life. When he left this place, he stopped being Hook, or Cap, or even Killian. He had to be someone else, and the weight of that shifted the peace within him to something frenzied and on guard.

With a swift but genuine regard he bid all his brothers and sister in arms goodbye, and handed in his papers and his weapons with the higher-ups. By the time he made it outside, headed to his personal barracks where he needed to collect some personal items, a royal enclave was ready for him and their head of security, Jefferson, was already waiting.

“Your things have been gathered, Your Highness. We’re ready to ship out.”

“So help me Jefferson if you start that Highness crap already -,”

“Sorry, sir.”

Killian sighed at the lingering formality but it was a small improvement and it wasn’t actually Jefferson’s fault. If the man waivered from formal titles surely Liam would hear of it, and his elder brother was no fan of abandoning tradition. Why he’d even let Killian serve all these years was beyond him, but Killian expected Liam knew that without an outlet and a feeling of normalcy, Killian would have lost himself long ago.

The ride through the city’s center was long, but Killian barely took it in despite looking out his window. He’d seen this route a million times, and it might be lovely, but it was a signal of returning to a state he didn’t like. The only part of the drive he found favor in was seeing the people around them, and from all looks and appearance, the citizens of their small nation were happy and well. People were out and about, children were playing, families were gathered and enjoying the spring day. Everyone was partaking in this first sweet taste of summer and their worlds seemed calm and bright. As a ruler that was the only thing a King could wish for, and Killian felt that call too even as Prince. Their roles meant nothing if the people were not served – but under Liam’s watchful and ever attentive eye, it made sense that they would be happy. They were surely headed towards another prosperous year, and, as Killian had always known, the nation had never been in better, more capable hands.

By the time they reached the city’s far edge and the golden gates of his family’s castle rose before them, Killian was at war with himself. On the one hand he was edgy from what was yet to come, but he was also glad to be back, to see his mother and grandmother, and even his brother. At the end of the day he loved his family, he knew that they worried for him every day he’d been away, and he’d be glad that coming home could bring them comfort. He mindfully made the choice to choose their happiness over his own for the time being, and as he exited the limousine, he schooled his features in a smile which widened at the sight of who was waiting at the door.

“Oh, my little Killy. You’re home at last.”

To the rest of the world, his grandmother was the dowager Queen and a force to be reckoned with. She was a high society lady, the former ruler of this nation, and a fierce advocate for the throne, but to Killian she was just his Gran, a charming, insightful, sometimes crafty older woman with too much love in her heart to ever perish. She was pushing 90 years old but here she was, the first to greet him and moving about like she was thirty years younger. She came straight to Killian, ignoring his polite bow and instead pulling him in for a warm embrace. How a woman so tiny could still possess such strength, he’d never know, but he had a fleeting though that she and Tink would get along before his grandmother pulled back with a mist of tears in her eyes.

“Did you miss me that much, Gran?” he teased, fending off his own wayward emotion at being reunited with one of his favorite people. “I thought I was just a load of trouble wrapped up in a charming giftwrap.”

“Oh hush. I said that to you one time – one time! And you never let me forget it. I mean truly, my dear, what was I supposed to say? You got into your cousin Sienna’s wedding cake and ate damn near half on your own before the reception could even start. Chef nearly perished at the sight of it.”

“I was a kid, Gran.”

“You were old enough to know better. But you could see what a menace that foolish Count was, no doubt. Can’t say I blame you for your actions now, given everything.”

Everything in this case was a huge scandal strewn across the tabloids. Sienna, who was actually quite a distant cousin, but still of royal lineage, was a rather stand-offish woman who had married more for status than for love. Unfortunately that status was tarnished less than ten years later when her now ex-husband was revealed as a philanderer and not a cautious one. It was a mess of paparazzi fodder, but to Killian it wasn’t all that bad, not after what they’d gone through with his father.

“Honestly I just wanted cake,” Killian admitted, shaking off thoughts of the man who’d wronged them long ago and his Gran grinned, none the wiser.

“Well there will be plenty of it now that you’re home. Your mother has planned a whole host of events, and before you get all stodgy and upset, you remember what every day has been like since you were last home. Poor Meera’s been fussing with that rosary damn near twenty times a day.”

Killian felt a pang of guilt hearing that, but his grandmother ignored his stricken look, pulling him inside. Immediately in the entryway he found his mother and Liam and the rest of the household staff set to greet them. He saw the joy in his mother’s eyes, and a clear sense of relief in Liam’s and he knew, even without words or actions, that he was truly missed and very much loved. Still he glanced back at his Gran, quirking up a brow to silently ask her why she wasn’t part of the precession.

“When you get to be my age, my dear, the formalities start to seem rather pointless. I wasn’t waiting an extra second to see my grandson, and your brother has the good sense to let me be.”

“Anyone who lacked that sense risks a fate worse than death, I’m sure,” Liam said dryly, but he spared a smile for their Gran all the same and allowed the old woman to swat at his arm like he was a pesky fly instead of the reigning monarch. “It’s good to see you home, brother.”

“It’s good to be with you all again,” Killian said, choosing his words carefully. He was not interested in lying to his family. They had enough to grapple with from the world around them, the least they owed each other was transparency. His mother certainly seemed to agree, and the tears she’d no doubt held in for months streamed down her still lovely face as she pulled him in close and hugged him far tighter than a royal mother should. Here was his mother in truth, not the part she played in public spaces, and despite their appearance in front of the staff, she doted on him like any good Mum should.

“You’re okay, darling? No bad scrapes this time?” Her tone grew warbly and Killian again felt the tug of guilt for what he put his family through in doing what he loved. He couldn’t regret his choice to serve and stake his own path, but he knew what a toll it took on his mother, and that was regrettable. On one of his first deployments he’d been injured pretty badly and he bore the scars along his back and side to prove it, but nothing vital had been hit, thank god, and as soon as he was healed he’d been ready to go out again. It almost broke his mother, but she was a strong woman, stronger than any he had ever known.

“A few nicks, Mum. Nothing serious.”

“Oh thank God. And now you’re home for good at last.”

Killian looked to Liam for confirmation and his brother shook his head. “Let’s not go there yet.” Liam pulled him in for a hug of his own, one of a special design they’d shared since he was but a boy and again Killian felt the true affection of his brother. They may be men of very different stripes, but Liam was a part of him and who he was. He was his elder brother and the closest thing Killian had to a father figure. His love meant the world to him, and so too did his approval.

“So, Gran mentioned some festivities. Have I time before the circus, or will it descend immediately?”

“Circus?” His mother asked, clearly confused before looking at her mother-in-law with amusement. “I think your grandmother is up to her old tricks. We don’t have anything planned. It’s just us and your favorite dinner. Just how you like it.”

Thank God for that, Killian thought to himself before turning to his grandmother who looked like a spoiled tyke at Christmas. She was so pleased with her little fake-out, she actually clasped her hands together.

“The Americans call it ‘punking’ someone. Such a garish word, but it does have its merits.”

“Still no hobbies to be found, Gran?” Killian asked, knowing that his grandmother was a busy body, and she needed a lot of occupation or she risked being… well, like this.

“Who needs the bloody things?” Gran said, swearing so brashly it made Killian choke on his drink and his mother gasp. “I do what is needed. You needed a good joke upon arriving home so I did what I could to provide one.”

“Gran’s taken to jokes of late,” Liam explained and Killian suddenly wanted very much to know what the old bird had been up to. From his brother’s expression, she’d gotten him good, and Killian would pay to see that.

“I tried to get it on tape, but that blasted Jefferson took my phone spouting all sorts of nonsense about royal protocol,” his Gran said, reading his mind. “But regardless, your dear brother knows perfectly well that I have plenty of occupation with the foundation. So much work that needs doing there. It must be constantly tended to, just like your mother’s roses.”

“I don’t remember it being so much,” Killian remarked, not even really remembering that the family had a foundation at all. It was more an endowment, a way to give the vastness of their wealth to worthy causes. But writing checks surely couldn’t take such effort.

“Well I’ve had to change it, haven’t I? If I was going to build something worthy of your attention, it had to do real good. It’s much more hands on now, you see. I might be in my twilight years, but I can still get my hands dirty.”

And there it was. He was wondering what the plan would be. He assumed he’d be added to Liam’s counsels and propped up as a family focal piece, the returning hero back home at last. But even without fully understanding the intention, Killian could see an earnest excitement in his grandmother’s eyes. Whatever the foundation had become, she was trying to build something for him, and if he could have a purpose beyond the face of a royal family, he’d be eternally grateful.

“So I really am home for good then?” Killian asked, broaching the uncomfortable topic once more as Liam considered him from the other end of the table. After a beat of quiet, Liam replied.

“I’ve spoken with our heads of command. The conflicts we’re involved in are winding down and while the Americans continue their crusade in the Middle East, our time of service there is drawing to a close. We’re shifting back to more diplomatic measures, and what’s left to fight can be handled by your fellow soldiers I think.”

“The country is in good hands,” Killian agreed and though it hurt to think that he was truly finished with his service, he was prepared for such an outcome. Liam would not demand that Killian leave. He was never so authoritarian, but this suggestion spoke volumes and Killian, much as he might be tempted, would not go against his brothers wishes.

“If they’ve been trained by you then it certainly is,” his mother agreed fiercely and Killian laughed. Her statement was not at all based in first-hand knowledge. She had never seen him in the field, rarely even seen him in his military context at all, but she still staunchly believed in him. It was appreciated, but comical all the same.

“And the foundation? What exactly is it doing these days?”

“Well by god, what aren’t we doing? There’s so much to do you see. We’ve been funding all sorts of new energies so we can be ‘green and clean,’” His Gran chirped happily. “We’ve expanded our species protection efforts with the ministry of parks and wildlife. I went on a whale watch with the Duchess of Mandrey. It was just marvelous. We wore, oh what, do they call them…? Oh right, ponchos! We’re working with the ministry of health to create community gardens not just to teach the children but to feed the people. You should see what we’ve done in the cities, Killy. We’ve built these centers with the soil and the supplies. The little ones love it -,”

“Clearly there’s quite a few balls in the air as it were,” Killian’s mother said, gently interrupting his grandmother’s exuberant storytelling. “But we were thinking, I mean if it works for you, that whenever you’re settled back in you might look at one particular part of the organization. Get a more hands on feel for something and truly learn the workings of the charity.”

“Did you have an idea of which one?”

“The Montenarro Children’s Sanctuary,” his Gran replied with total assuredness, and to his amazement, she produced a pamphlet (would wonders ever cease?) from somewhere under the table to hand to him. “Got that from the front desk last week. It’s all in there, dear, and the children are just precious. You’ve always loved the little ones, so it’s a perfect fit.”

“Have I?” Killian asked, not sure if he’d ever shown that predisposition. He always liked interacting with the children in the extended family when they came for holidays and events, but that was hardly a background in working with kids.

“Of course you have. You have such a way with them, and these children, well my dear, they just need someone like you so much. It’s a wonderful opportunity to make a difference.”

Killian knew she must be right, and he felt, despite his hesitations and the urge to reject someone else planning out his life, that this may indeed be a good fit for him for now. He never would have chosen such a charity first, thinking himself a bit understudied in the ways of children, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to give it a try, and his family was right, he needed something to do, something that actually felt like it mattered. After living for years with a purpose he couldn’t waste his time doing things he felt were frivolous. If he did he might go mad.

“I’ll go on one condition,” Killian said and they all considered him, clearly surprised he would accept at all and that he was handling his military retirement so well. “No one at that organization is calling me Prince Killian, Your Highness or any of that. I’ll go by Killian. That’s it.”

“But dear that’s -,”

“Before you say it’s not possible, Mum, just think for a minute about the work they do there and the kids in that scenario. This is a home for orphans and children who can’t be cared for in traditional means. They don’t have present families, they don’t have anything to call their own. They might know I am prince, but I don’t want them to feel the difference between us. You want me to help somehow? I don’t know how to truly help people when we’re separate or unequal. I never mastered that. It’s not how I work.”

“It’s just a title, Killy,” his Gran said sadly but he was holding firm. He wanted this for the kids and for himself. He’d dedicate himself to helping in this way, but he wanted at least a feeling of something normal, something that was his and not the crown’s. He looked to Liam, awaiting his brother’s verdict, and after a brief consideration his brother nodded.

“It seems reasonable enough. But only at the foundation. To the rest of the world you are, and always will be, Prince.”

“Fair enough,” Killian agreed. “Now, any chance we’ve got some cake?”

At the joke, everyone laughed, but low and behold there was cake to be had. And though his life was shifting radically, and he might not be on the most solid of ground right now, Killian felt hopeful that things might just work out in the end. Soon enough he’d be a part of something again, and he hoped quite sincerely to make a difference and make a change for the people he served, and in truth, for himself as well.

…………………..

Hours after their meal, and long after her son had headed up to his wing of the palace, Queen Meera looked out her large antique window to the full moon out tonight. She thanked the heavens that her son was back home safe. After so many years of fighting, and being in the thick of too many international skirmishes, he was finally back and all in one piece. Every night she’d prayed for his safety and for his health. She prayed he would be protected and smart out there doing God knows what. But she also prayed that he would feel peace, when she knew peace was a luxury for her youngest boy he wasn’t usually graced with. Recently she’d added a few more prayers as well, ones that would keep him open to the changes coming in all of their lives. She was grateful at dinner that he was receptive to the prospect put before him of working for the family foundation. So far the plan was working, and she sent up another prayer that the rest would fall into place too.

Perhaps it would be strange to some that she was doing this, trying to craft a future for her beloved son when he was a fully-grown man, but she knew down in her soul that Killian needed the guidance. He was a good man, a strong man, a man bound by honor and compassion, but her son was always closed off, especially when it came to matters of the heart. There were many reasons for that, a few near-misses in love, and all the attention that their family brought forward, but the real reason underneath it all stemmed from the sins of his father, a man Meera once felt love for, who blessed her with two children and promptly threw the life they built together all away.

Prince Brennan had always been notorious. A party boy, a man of mischief. He never met trouble he didn’t like the look of, but his people and his family still believed him to be fundamentally good if a bit lacking in maturity. He was set to inherit the throne as the only child of the King and Queen, and through a twist of fate Meera and him had met and fallen in love. Meera was a common girl, with no connections, and no wealth to speak of, but it hadn’t mattered to Brennan. In fact, in hindsight, he probably wanted her even more because of it. They stole away as many moments as they could, and then one day he told her they were getting married. He never asked, he just informed her, and she went along with it, knowing she loved him even if she was scared of trying to be part of his world. She thought he’d bring her home to meet his family, thought he’d seek their approval, but Brennan had a mind of his own, and that night they eloped.

Only when they were legally man and wife did he bring her home and the fall out had been immense. His father, King Rupert, was furious, but the ire never was directed at her. It was Brennan who the King and Queen were mad at, and Meera couldn’t understand why. If King Rupert and Queen Eleanor truly liked her, why be so angry? Why chastise him as they did? Only a year later, after the birth of her eldest son, Liam, did she realize why; Brennan was flighty and irresponsible. He couldn’t commit to things, he never devoted himself to anything forever. He was bad at making decisions, at paying attention, and he had a total disregard for his impending role as ruler of Montenarro. If someone even hinted at his impending responsibility to the people of this country he went running as fast and as far as he could. Still Meera believed he loved her and that even if he couldn’t give all of himself to his duty, he could be there for her and their children. After trying for seven more years to give Liam some siblings, they were blessed to have Killian, and only after her second son’s birth did the truth fully come into focus. Marriage hadn’t actually meant to Brennan what it meant to her. In her eyes, they were meant to be partners, meant to love each other, and honor each other, but he couldn’t do it. He grew resentful and unruly, and ultimately, unfaithful.

It was an awful time, to be sure, and for Killian, it ended up being all he knew of his father. She kept everything she could from both of her sons, but somehow things always got out. The media had a field day at each and every instance, and then, when it got so bad and so brutal, Meera decided she must go. She and her sons could stay here no longer. Not with Brennan here. Shockingly, when she told Eleanor and Rupert of her plans they told her it was not her place to leave. It was Brennan who must make a choice – shape up and make amends to his wife and to his family, or leave, forsaking his thrown, his power, and all inheritance as he did. Brennan knew in an instant what he wanted, and so he left, but not before Killian and Liam heard him yelling and carrying on. At only six years of age Killian watched his father leave them all, with nothing like regret, and then, a few days later they found that Brennan had died in an accident, the product of reckless choices finally catching up with him.

Explaining to her sons how their father’s actions had no influence on who they were was so hard. Liam seemed to know this, but he channeled his pain into being the perfect heir. He put so much pressure on himself to be a wonderful king and a wonderful son. She worried about that and she was trying every day to help manage that as best she could. But Killian was far more sensitive. He was sweet and thoughtful and bold all at once. He had the biggest heart and he wanted so badly to wear it on his sleeve. But he didn’t. He closed himself off, and then he’d gone into the royal navy and Meera was devastated. She was always worried sick for her son, but what could she say? She saw in him a burst of that vitality and that light in his eyes when he was away. Even in the midst of chaos, Killian was at peace. Why? Because he could be himself. He’d found a place he felt safe, in some of the most unsafe places around the world. Now, though, he was coming back and this was not a place he felt that freedom. With them of course he had trust, but with everyone else she knew his walls would come right back up, steadfast as ever and impenetrable to most.

That was why she was doing this. She wanted a chance to open Killian up to more, to prompt her son towards something he deserved but had always run from: love. She knew he’d be hesitant, and only the perfect kind of woman could bring him to a place where he could be himself, so she’d been looking. It was practically her job to meet people all the time, to come into contact with royals and commoners alike, but she never had much hope. No one felt right, no one seemed perfect until a few weeks ago. Eleanor had returned from one of her outings with the foundation, from the children’s sanctuary, and slapped down a folder with a simple statement.

“I found the girl. Killian’s sweetheart. I know she’s the one.”

Meera was so excited, and she opened the folder without second thought. Sure enough the woman in the file was beautiful, and surprising. She was an American and pretty as could be, clearly smart as she was here on a fellowship grant from the local University. And she had a son. There were all sorts of details about how the school had made arrangements for them because she was such a promising fellow. She was gifted with children and had her own experience with being an orphan as well. Meera planned to go the next day with Eleanor to see for herself, but Eleanor said she wasn’t there. When Meera realized Eleanor never even seen the girl she was horrified. It was one thing to be looking for potential suitors for her son, but people they’d never even met? That seemed like a bridge too far.

“She’ll be here in two weeks. The Sanctuary director couldn’t stop talking about how excited they were for this year’s candidate and one thing lead to another… but that’s the way these things go sometimes.”

It was not the way things usually went, and Meera knew that, but she had never regretted following Eleanor’s instincts before. If her mother-in-law believed in this, then she felt that she should too. And besides, their goal here was a good one – all they wanted was two worthy people to fall in love, after all. What was really the harm in that? Meera just didn’t know, and that was the problem which had been keeping her up for more than a few nights now.

“You are worrying too much, Meera. It will all turn out exactly as it’s meant to,” Eleanor said, having walked into the room with such silence Meera never once detected her.

“You really think it’ll happen?” Meera asked, not even bothering to hide her anxiety.

“Think it’ll happen? My love, he’s as handsome as can be, a Captain of the navy, a hero of war, and has a heart of gold. Any woman worth her salt is going to take one look at him and fall straight in love. Meanwhile he’s going to take one look at this Swan girl and you know what he’s going to do? He’s going to see forever in an instant. His heart will beat for her, and love will stake a claim from the very first moment. Cupid will have quite a simple task of it, you mark my words.”

“You make it all sound so…”

“Romantic? Blissful?”

“I was going to say theatrical.”

“Love at first sight has long been slandered, but still it exists. People find it every day, and many times when they know, they just know.”

“I just want him to be happy,” Meera admitted looking down at her hands. That was all she ever wanted as a mother, for her sons to be well and whole and good.

“And he will be,” Eleanor said, grasping Meera’s hand in a sign of comfort. “He will be happy. He will find exactly what he’s missing. You just have to trust and believe, my dear. It’s all any of us can do.”

Meera nodded, deciding to believe that this would work, and to accept the older woman’s sage counsel, despite its fairytale influence. She wished that with this tiny little push in the right direction, her son would find his happiness with a woman of substance, and good will, and heart. From what they’d discovered, Meera truly believed such a love could be found with this one special woman, Emma Swan, and she only hoped that Killian and Emma were ready and willing to take a chance. But alas, nothing but time would tell, and now all they could do was wait and see…

Post-Note: So there we have it. It was a lot of background I know, about Killian and his family and his past. But I hope you’ll see a bit more of the world I’m building and that it will eventually add to the meeting CS will have coming in the next chapter. As for Killian’s meddling Mom and Gran… what can I say? I missed having some meddlers in my AUs. I have lots still left in store for this story, and as always I can’t wait to see what you guys think. Thanks again so much for reading, and I hope you all have a lovely rest of your day!

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mfingenius · 5 years

Note

i jUST found ur Veela au and im already invested!! how did harry react to being Draco’s mate?!??

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Harry is freaking tf out

Draco’s still asleep and part of harry wants to wake him up bc HOW DARE HE drop this sort of bomb and then just sleep??

but madam pomfrey tells him that if he wakes mr. malfoy she’ll make him suffer bc he needs to sleep

and that harry needs it too and if she sees him still awake in a couple hours she’ll give him a sleeping potion

so after she’s tended to his wounds (which were thankfully minimal apart from fucking dying) he places his infirmary bed next to draco’s and falls asleep holding his hand

he wakes a long long time later (understandable, this boy hasn’t slept well in like a year)

Draco’s staring at their still linked hands, frozen, bc he remembers what he said and he thinks harry won’t want him anymore bc veelas mate for life and they’re seventeen ffs

he hasn’t noticed harry’s awake

‘draco’

draco snaps his eyes up to harry’s face and immediately goes red

‘i’m sorry, harry, i didn’t mean to tell you like that. it’s alright if you - if you don’t want me right now. i know i’m not - i’m damaged now and-’

‘Draco’

‘and i swear i tried to fight them and every day i thought of you but i couldn’t stop the crucios and-’

‘draco’

‘and i know i don’t deserve you-’

‘Draco!’

Draco finally shuts up

‘i don’t care what happened at the manor’

it’s a lie

harry does so care about what happened at the manor but not bc of the reasons draco thinks

he just cares bc he wants to know who he’s sending to azkaban first

‘and i never want to hear you say you don’t deserve me again. you deserve everything. i love you.’

draco’s at a loss of words

he was so convinced harry was going to break up with him

‘can you explain the mate thing to me?’

so draco tells him everything

about how he knew in fourth year and that was why he joined the order and the ridiculous care-taker instincts that have been driving him insane

he tells him all of it

down to how he felt him die

harry frowns and cups draco’s face

‘i’m so sorry’

and they kiss

cut forward to when madam pomfrey practically kicks them out of the infirmary (as soon as draco can walk bc apparently the spell did some good damage but it was mostly blood loss) bc other people need the beds

neither of them knows what to do then

everyone is still mourning for friends or family so thankfully they’re allowed to sneak away

remus and tonks have already gone home to teddy

draco and harry go to grimmauld place to stay with sirius for a bit

the news about their eighth year come out a few months into their stay there and neither of them are sure whether they want to go back or not

the aurors have already made it clear they’ll take harry (and all of them) newts or no

but harry doesn’t think he wants to be an auror anymore

he still has nightmares of the war

and so does draco

he sees how they leave him shaking, and how he won’t let harry touch him for hours afterwards curled up in a corner of their room

and honestly he thinks they’ve both had enough

but he doesn’t know what else to do

it’s not like either of them need to work

harry’s filthy rich bc of his parents

draco’s filthy rich bc since he was a spy for the order the malfoy fortune has gone to him without being touched by the ministry (lucius malfoy is in azkaban fucking finally)

but harry also doesn’t want to just not work

but he sure as hell doesn’t want to go back to hogwarts as a student bc he doesn’t think he could ever do that again

draco does want to go back for eighth year

in the whole year he was captive he didn’t do magic at all and he’s been struggling a lot with it

neither of them want to be apart

it’s mcgonagall who delivers the answer to them

she goes to grimmauld place personally

and before harry can even speak she tells him ‘i know you don’t want to come back as a student’

and then proceeds to offer him the defense against the dark arts position

although harry hadn’t thought of it before he sees now that it’s perfect

mcgonagall proceeds to turn to draco

‘and i know you want to come back to study. this way you’re both there and you’re both doing what you want’

she mostly wants them to come back bc she thinks they deserve one last chance to be children and learn silly spells and have feasts and not be the adults they were forced to be

they both agree almost instantly

then they’re going to hogwarts and they’re in a train compartment together

and then they’re at the feast and draco keeps batting his eyelashes at harry from the eighth year table and mcgonagall can see how this was a bad idea

and then they’re in class and everyone respects harry as a teacher - even his own classmates - bc somehow he just fits

and if at night draco sleeps in harry’s teacher quarters instead of the eighth year dorm then no one needs to know

(everyone totally does but no one says anything)

and then it’s the winter holidays and they’re lying in bed together, harry petting draco’s wings (they’re always there lately and madam pomfrey tells them it’s permanent now that draco’s finally with his mate and feels safe)

and he brings up the subject of getting their own place

draco kisses him before he can even finish the question

before eighth year is over they’re already looking at flats and houses

now that the war isn’t as fresh in everyone’s minds reporters are constantly bothering harry or draco or hermione or ron

harry’s taken the worst of it obviously

they never leave him alone

and so it’s hard to find a house bc every realtor wants to be the one to sell to harry potter and his boyfriend

so eventually they get tired of it and go have lunch in muggle london (after placing a strong disillusionment charm on draco’s wings)

‘harry’

‘hmmm?’

‘why not here?’

‘what?’

‘why not here? why don’t we find a flat here? in muggle london. no one will bother us. we can connect the chimney to the floo network.’

harry stares at draco for a whole two seconds and then kisses him senseless

‘i love you’

looking for apartments in muggle london is much easier than in magical london

it takes them a few weekends but finally they find one they’re both in love with

it’s a small one bedroom apartment on the top floor of an apartment building that has huge windows - draco needs those, bc he’s developed a deep fear of the dark and small rooms bc he feels too much like he’s in the dungeons at the manor again - and a lot of sunlight and it admits pets and a big kitchen - draco’s hopeless cooking but he’s been trying to learn and harry loves to watch the pinch of his eyebrows and mouth along to the muggle on the telly as she dictates the recipe - and it’s small and it needs some work but it’s theirs and harry could just cry

they move in as soon as eighth year is over

draco becomes a model for parvati patil’s clothing line

harry’s not at all surprised

his boyfriend’s fucking gorgeous

he makes sure to tell that to anyone who has the bad luck to sit next to him in the fashion shows he attends for draco

harry continues to teach at hogwarts

after all of two months of living together harry proposes

draco says yes ofc

they get married

and now harry can say ‘that’s my husband’ excitedly whenever he goes to one of the fashion shows draco’s modeling in

and then time passes and they’re every bit as happy as they ever were

and ofc it’s not perfect

harry still has nightmares

so does draco

draco still has days where he hands harry a coat and then kicks him out the door bc he needs time alone

harry still has nights he wakes up with a curse on his lips and his wand pointed at the wall

but they’re together, and they’re happy bc it’s what they fucking deserve

---------------------------------------------

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