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e-wills-afterhours · 2 years

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Vetrnaetr, Chapter 4

A/N: RTTE is not canon in this timeline. RTTE is not canon in this timeline. RTTE is not canon in this timeline. But ROB and DOB are.

I felt I had to reiterate that for reasons...which will become clear in this chapter.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3

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Astrid exhaled on her hands, warming them. She rubbed them together before withdrawing them into the protection of her woolen cloak.

Three days had passed since the summer's final cloudburst had doused away the remaining warmth of the fading season. Relentless storms should have left the ground muddy, soaking through boots and caking on everything—but winter had reared its ugly head like a Snow Wraith, freezing everything in its path with a mighty gust from its nostrils. The ground was solid; cold and unyielding, offering nothing of itself for most crops to grow. But, the summer harvest had been bountiful. Year in and year out, Berk made it through the harshest months on its blessings alone. For that, Vetrnaetr was always a jubilant affair: a time to give thanks to the Dísir and appeal to their mercies for the next year's harvest.

Winter brought low-lying clouds, heavy with diamond dust. Berk was often consumed in an icy mist, hidden away from the rest of the Barbaric Sea, trapped in its own kind of mystery. Ice floes formed a natural barrier that kept enemies out, but also kept the Hairy Hooligans in. For a season, Berk was sequestered, concerned only with itself. Almost as if the entire island went to sleep for a time, falling into a winter stupor when conditions were too unfavorable for regular work; the days too cold and short to accomplish more than what was necessary for survival.

"Gotta love Berk winters," Ruffnut said, nudging Astrid. "It's the time of year it's far too cold for anyone to give a shit about anything."

A pack of children ran by laughing, waving their holiday colors, just to contradict her. Their juvenile dragons lumbered after them.

"Except the festivals," Astrid sighed, gazing up at a Vetrnaetr banner being hoisted over their heads.

Bucket and Mulch waved from their ladders, and Astrid nodded in acknowledgment. She kept her arms folded within her cloak, trying to keep the numbness at bay.

"Sure, except the festivals," Ruffnut conceded. She sauntered closer to the stalls being erected in the village center: soon-to-be shops that would come alive with seasonal goods. "Food, drinking, and fucking. What's not to love? It's all very Norse, if you ask me."

Astrid rolled her eyes.

"Well, I didn't."

Ruffnut smirked. She then turned to a series of brooches on display. Not yet for sale, they had been laid out in the dull, gray daylight to be inventoried. The shopkeeper was distracted, hollering at her husband as he hammered nails into the stall's bare bones; and Ruffnut was nothing if not opportunistic. Quick as a Nadder's spine shot, she pilfered a rather plain brooch from the very end of the line. The design was less conspicuous than most of the others, and therefore less likely to be missed. Astrid was not surprised, but plenty exasperated.

When the two of them were well out of range of prying eyes, Ruffnut held the brooch in her open palm.

"A Hideous Zippleback! Talk about lucky! I didn't even know what was on it."

Astrid frowned. "You took it without even knowing what it was? Did you even really want it?"

Ruffnut shrugged and pinned the decorative piece to her old, tattered cloak.

"One of these days, I'm going to say something," Astrid warned.

Ruffnut just scoffed. "Yeah, but not today."

She had a point. There were other, more distressing things on Astrid's mind than Ruffnut's lifelong idiosyncrasies and questionable morals. Most of Berk probably had an inkling than the Thorston Twins did not acquire a great many of their nicer belongings by honest means. They were at the bottom of the social hierarchy: freemen of the lowest order. The Hooligan tribe held no slaves, but three hundred years ago, Berk was a different place with different values, and a different kind of nobility. Astrid long suspected the Thorston lineage was rooted in thralldom and thus there was a lingering inability for the clan to marry much higher above its station—but she never asked, and Ruffnut and Tuffnut never spoke of it.

"No, the route marker needs to be higher!" came a whine that cut through her musings.

"Just because your dragon can't make sharp turns—!"

"Snotlout, you know she's sensitive!"

The girls stopped in their tracks to watch Snotlout and Fishlegs bickering. While not uncommon, Astrid recognized a painted course marker often used in dragon races. The post sat between them as Snotlout folded his beefy arms and scowled. He resembled a rather squat bear in all his fine, winter furs. Fishlegs, meanwhile, covered his dragon's ears and pouted, but Meatlug seemed oblivious to the other man's insult.

"I get to decide where we put it, Snotlout. Hiccup left me in charge of race preparations and you know it," he insisted.

"Just one more thing to add to the list of his bad ideas," Snotlout retorted.

Toothless stood by, watching the whole scene with obvious boredom. Astrid's stomach churned to see the Night Fury dutifully shadowing Fishlegs—it brought back the uncomfortable goodbye on the docks, when Hiccup had been so distant.

Her lips tingled with thoughts of the parting kiss they did not exchange. She missed him, but at the same time, she was furious.

He should have known she would be alright to look after Toothless and to oversee the race setup, regardless of what they were personally going through. She was always his right-hand woman, far better organized and efficient than the other riders ever were; truly dependable. Sure, she had told him she was busy, but that was only a short-term problem. He should've known.

As Vetrnaetr drew nearer, Astrid's to-do list grew shorter. A greater vexation was her mother reminding her at every turn how she had poked holes in the Hofferson reputation, and that fixing it fell solely on her shoulders. She felt besieged by expectations, and she had hoped Hiccup would unburden her. Instead, he laid on more stressors, lost in his own thoughts, withholding his affections, with his head so far up his own ass he did not hear a word she said; and so he could not begin to understand the things she did not say, that were no less important.

"I listened," he said that day in the pasture.

Astrid could laugh at that.

He was bright and intuitive, so he did not get a free pass. If he just extended his thoughts beyond what was right in front of him, if he stopped being so myopic…

He should have known!

"Astrid! Ruffnut!" Fishlegs exclaimed, spotting them standing there. His face softened and his chest swelled.

Toothless perked up upon spotting Astrid. He bounded over to her with a gummy smile, and she felt a little more cheerful, sacrificing the protective warmth of her cloak to reach out and pet the dragon. As she stroked his head, she could not help but think he gave more of a damn about her than his rider did at the moment.

"Aww, look at the two of you boys. Squabbling just like a married couple," Ruffnut teased. She wrinkled her nose, aiming a playful kissy-face at the two young men.

"Well, we wouldn't have this headache if your boyfriend made decisions that actually made sense," Snotlout huffed, brandishing a thick, stubby finger at Astrid.

She rarely agreed with him, but he had just brought the grand total up to five counts, in recent memory.

"You wouldn't have a headache if you could learn to be more agreeable," she retorted.

"Says the girl who used to drive us into the dirt with her crazy training exercises," Snotlout said.

"That's one thing I sure don't miss about the Dragon Academy," Ruffnut sighed.

Astrid flashed her a rude hand gesture.

"I think we could use another opinion," Fishlegs spoke. He narrowed his eyes at Snotlout. "Since we appear to be at an impasse."

Astrid hummed in her throat, clasping her hands behind her back as she surveyed the immediate area with dramatic scrutiny.

"The suspense is killing me," Snotlout muttered.

She took care to hit him hard with her shoulder as she passed by. The pauldrons beneath her cloak made for added effect. He scowled, rubbing where she had struck him.

"I don't think you should raise the marker in this area at all. The elevation of the land here is going to make it hard to clear the houses without a tail or wing taking a shingle or two with it. You'd have to fly low and the buildings are pretty stacked. I'd move it someplace higher, and more level. Less houses."

Fishlegs beamed before turning to Snotlout with a proud lift of his chin.

"Exactly what I said!"

Snotlout rolled his eyes. "Well, it sounds better coming from Astrid." He turned to her, folding his arms again. His expression was far less complimentary. "Nice of you to actually grace us with your presence."

Her face fell and she bristled. "What are you talking about?"

Snotlout sniffed and rolled his shoulders. He took a step forward, gesturing around to the two other riders. "Oh, just that it's been a good while since you acknowledged any of us exist."

"What?" she replied, incredulous. Her breath made staccato puffs of steam with each chuckle in the frigid air. "That's not true!"

Snotlout raised his eyebrows and Astrid glanced to Fishlegs and Ruffnut for support, still grinning at his lunacy. But, she found Ruffnut starring down at her grimy fingernails with knitted brows. Fishlegs patted Meatlug and cast her shifty sidelong glances with an anxious wobbling in his bottom lip. Even Toothless let out a soft, low warble that Astrid could not help but suspect was in agreement with the others.

"It's not true!" she insisted, feeling her cheeks flush a darker pink than what the windchill alone bestowed.

"When was the last time we all hung out together?" Snotlout asked.

Astrid sputtered for a moment. "Just…Just yesterday, at breakfast—!"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Alright. When was the last time we all hung out together after you found yourself a man—Hiccup or otherwise?"

She stood there with her jaw agape, eyes darting from Snotlout's stony face to the uncomfortable fidgeting of Ruffnut and Fishlegs, the two of them looking anywhere but at her. As it turned out, folding her arms back under her cloak did nothing to shield her from Snotlout's accusation.

"I've been busy," she muttered.

"Yeah. I bet. Breaking hearts is time consuming business, I guess."

Fishlegs tried to intercede. "Snotlout—"

The shorter man just snorted, making a sweeping, theatrical gestures. "Oh, sorry. Was that a little too on the nose? I mean, two years of Hiccup moping and then she goes and strings Stefnir along until she drops him in the mud. It's not like I liked the guy, but—"

Astrid's hand balled into a fist and she flinched toward him. Ruffnut gripped her shoulder.

"Now, wait a damn second! It wasn't like that, and you know it!" She spat.

His eyebrows raised. "Do I? Then how was it, Astrid? Where was I off base? The part where you played Hiccup or the part where you played Stefnir?"

She hissed obscenities at him through clenched teeth. Perhaps more unsettling was the guilt and the self-doubt underlying her anger. There was a voice deep in the recesses of her brain that sat there for months. She had ignored it; gave it no audience. Still, it lingered, and she had felt it biding its time until the right moment to leap forward and hit where it hurt most: her pride and confidence in the choices she made; the choices she suffered for.

"Now, now, you guys…" Fishlegs interjected again—but he was merely a large kitten caught between two battling dragons.

Astrid stepped forward, straining against Ruffnut's bracing hand. She could have shrugged her friend off, but Ruffnut was acting as her only tether to some semblance of decorum. Otherwise, Snotlout would have been out cold on the ground.

"You know what your problem is?" she growled. "You can't handle the fact I was never interested in you!"

Snotlout scoffed, shaking his head. As dismissive as he tried to be, a muscle in his jaw twitched. He retorted, "Seeing how you do relationships, Astrid, I'd say I dodged a Plasma Blast."

If there was some proverbial belt, Snotlout had just hit below it.

"My relationship with Hiccup is a perfectly good one!" she snapped, sounding too shrill; too desperate to convince him—to convince herself.

"Oh, right. That must be why he entrusted his dragon to Fishlegs and put him in charge of the dragon-related preparations?"

Astrid's face was burning then, and she felt hers hands shake. Her chest grew tight with a myriad of emotions: sadness, self-pity, bitterness, and resentment, just to name a few. She glanced at Toothless and the dragon just stared back at her. All her vulnerabilities spilled out on the frozen ground before her friends, and she was unable to pull together a biting comeback.

"Thanks for the advice on the course marker," Snotlout said with a satisfied smirk. He tapped Fishlegs's shoulder with his fist in a gesture of backhanded fraternity. "Let's go, Fishface."

Fishlegs gathered up the marker with a parting wince of apology. Then, with a jerk of his head, he muttered, "Toothless."

The Night Fury hesitated, glancing between Astrid and Fishlegs with great confusion. His ears dropped and he crooned softly, pupils round and plaintive; but he went with the young men as Hiccup had instructed him to do. Astrid watched him go, feeling the indignation and hurt raging inside her along with everything else.

"Well, that sure was interesting," Ruffnut commented.

Astrid spun on her heel and stormed off. She could no longer feel the cold in the air through the heat of her embarrassment. Her fur-lined cloak whipped about her ankles and her skirt jangled with each step, proclaiming her anger to anyone within earshot.

Ruffnut groaned and chased her down.

"Come on, Astrid!" she said, half-jogging to keep up. "When has Snotlout ever been worth the trouble?"

"Why did you hold me back?" Astrid snapped. Though it had been a wise decision, she was looking to lash out and Ruffnut was in her radius.

"As fun as it would have been to watch you tear his throat out—and I mean, really fun; the blood and all—I just…" Ruffnut's pace slowed as she struggled to find the precise wording. She smiled, trying to lift the mood she immediately punctured with, "I don't want to say he has a point, but…"

Astrid stopped. "So you're on his side?"

Ruffnut rolled her eyes. "I'm not on anyone's side. Just because you haven't been around doesn't mean you didn't have your reasons. I'd say, with Stefnir, you had two pretty decent reasons, am I right?" She flexed her lanky arms and wiggled her eyebrows.

"Stefnir's an absolute ass!"

"Okay, sure," Ruffnut conceded. "But he's a pretty fine ass."

Astrid growled with disgust and took off in another furious march.

"I was joking!" Ruffnut exclaimed, bounding after her again, long braids swinging wildly. "To be honest, I don't care where you've been or what your reasons are—even if it did doom me to a total sausage fest without you."

Astrid slowed her stride, softening a little.

"I figured you'd always find your way back. I couldn't see you avoiding dragon races forever. Not with your need to show everyone how damn perfect you are." Ruffnut grabbed her by the arm to stop her. "What I find strange is that Hiccup entrusted Toothless to Fishlegs. That dragon means more to Hiccup than his one good leg, and he didn't ask you to look after him."

"Is there a question in there, somewhere?"

Ruffnut pursed her lips and surveyed Astrid with narrowed eyes. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Astrid's threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "Is that all anybody cares about? My love life? My decisions? My problems? Where was the concern when I was engaged to a controlling wart? Suddenly, my business with Hiccup is all anyone wants to talk about!" She started ticking off her numb fingers. "How it reflects on me, how it reflects on my family, whether it's going well, whether we're fighting! Geez! Why not go for broke and ask us if we're fucking!"

Ruffnut snorted at the idea. Then her lips parted with a gasp and her eyes widened. She stared at Astrid in disbelief. "Are you? I mean, I know you are together and all…but, are you?"

Astrid's hands fell to her hips, ears tingling with the embarrassment of saying one thing too much. "Are we what?"

Ruffnut's face split into a devious grin. "Fucking. Are you two fucking?"

Astrid chewed at the inside of her cheek and quickly looked away. She felt herself reddening by the second thanks to her accursed fair complexion.

"Oh my gods, you are!" Ruffnut practically squealed. "You and Hiccup are! You're fuck—!" Then she began to cackle, clutching her stomach as she tossed her head back.

"I never said—!"

"You didn't have to!" Ruffnut wheezed. "Your face did!" She doubled over. "You! You…and Hiccup! Actually doin' it!"

There were snorts interspersed with her laughter, echoing through the village on such an inconveniently still and quiet morning.

"Would you shut your damn face before I put my fist in it?" Astrid hissed, eyes darting to the few curious onlookers drawn out by the other blonde's howls. Blood rushed through her veins, pounding in her ears.

Her nosy tribesmen leaned into to one another, nodded toward the two girls and whispered, making her skin prickle with the shame she could not seem to shake. Whenever things seemed to reach a state of calm—a tentative equilibrium—she found her tribe had discovered one more thing they had yet to gossip about; one more thing concerning her, Hiccup, Stefnir, and the entire, ugly ordeal that just would not die.

Ruffnut straightened up, wiping away a tear and gulping for air. "You're right! You're right! It isn't funny. I'm sorry for you. I bet it's all pretty sad."

Astrid recoiled, her face twisting with confusion. "Sad?"

Ruffnut clapped a hand over her mouth. She whispered through her fingers, "No? It's—? Oh, no! He's actually good?"

"It's—! Hiccup is—! He. Is. Fine, okay?" Astrid sputtered.

Ruffnut snickered. "Yeah, but is he just fine-fine, or is he fiiiiine?"

"I'm going to kill you."

Astrid grabbed her cackling friend and dragged her to a less populated part of the village, past the smithy, by the cliffs overlooking the fog-obscured sea. There, alone together, she let Ruffnut laugh herself exhausted. After a minute or two, the other blonde simmered down to an occasional giggle and composed herself.

"Okay," Ruffnut sighed. "I'm done."

"Good for you."

"You must have it pretty bad for him if you're willing to risk whatever untarnished reputation you have left, huh?"

"What of it, risking my precious reputation? Is all that matters around here anymore?" she asked. "I've overheard Tuffnut complaining about your exploits."

Ruffnut shrugged. "I don't have much of a reputation to uphold, if you haven't noticed."

Point, Thorston.

Astrid turned toward the dark sea, jutting out her bottom lip with an exasperated breath that fluttered her bangs. Waves rolled out into the mist until sky and sea fused into a single wintery haze.

"For what it's worth, I don't give a shit what you do," Ruffnut said, trudging up beside her to gaze off into the distance—as if the mist could provide them answers to any and all problems. The dying grass crunched beneath her feet. "But, if it's so good between you two, then why is Fishlegs suddenly Hiccup's 'right hand'? That's your gig...so what's soured?"

Astrid tucked wayward strands of her hair behind her ear. They blew about in the wind off the cliffs, flailing wildly in the icy gusts, much like how she felt.

"Everything." she answered. "Just…everything."

Ruffnut tilted her head. "You've broken up with him, then?'

"No. Not exactly."

"Then it's not 'everything.' Right?"

Astrid stared at Ruffnut, who smiled and nodded. She appreciated the words of support, but it was not so simple. Even if she and Hiccup had not broken 'everything', their foundation was crumbling faster than it could be repaired. There were things she feared her friend just could not understand. The complexities of her relationship with Hiccup—its rise, fall, and plateau just above rock bottom—were difficult to articulate.

But Ruffnut stood there, overestimating her powers of comprehension; and Astrid's shoulders fell. She sighed and began to pace, relenting to the much-needed unburdening of her soul.

"He just…I ask him to be there, and he isn't. He spends more time in the forge and flying his dragon than he does with me. It's like I'm an afterthought."

Ruffnut snorted. "Uh, hello? Have you met Hiccup Haddock?"

Astrid huffed. Already, the other blonde was a disappointing confidante, but the words came pouring out of her anyway; venting was cathartic.

"Yeah, but I thought being in a relationship would carry a little more weight. Or maybe, I don't know, bump up a few notches on his priority list? Then, whenever he does make an effort, it's always half-assed, like his mind is on something else entirely."

"Okay, but he nearly died to be with you—because he's an idiot. Took a sword to the shoulder too, I believe."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "I know we he did for me, but now he's always 'busy'. It's always some excuse."

Ruffnut folded her arms and arched her brows. "Maybe he really is busy?" she suggested. "Did you ever think of that?"

Astrid scoffed, "Please."

"No, really, Astrid. You see, the thing about you is you always have to be right. You cut others off at the knees with this high-handed, self-righteous attitude."

"I do not!" Astrid argued. She waved her hand dismissively. "You're being ridiculous."

"There! You just did it! You used to do it all the time when the academy was still going. Thankfully, the rest of us had Hiccup as a buffer. He'd at least hear us out, but not you. Maybe Hiccup is busy and he is trying? Are you even hearing him out, or are you just telling him how he's doing it wrong, and how you think he should fix himself? Maybe the poor guy needs his own buffer against you?"

"That isn't it at all!" Astrid snapped with a glare that could melt iron. Ruffnut was unperturbed. "I don't want to 'fix' Hiccup! I just want him to be a better version of himself."

Ruffnut's laugh was hollow. "Okay, Astrid. I'm sure everyone likes to hear they aren't good enough. You keep setting that bar just out of his reach and get back to me."

"I'm not asking more of Hiccup than he is capable of giving."

"Yeah, but does he know that?"

Astrid puffed up with indignation. Of course Hiccup knew she was not asking him for anything too unreasonable! All she wanted was the minimum amount of effort she expected someone madly in love would make. Relationships were give, take, and often times, compromise—it didn't take a genius to understand that. Hiccup was intelligent, so it was irritating to watch him fall short day after day. He could be a better boyfriend, and Astrid wanted to make him better, to elevate their relationship to where she knew it could be. After all, they had both endured too much to throw it all away into a pit of complacency.

"What makes you an expert on this?" she asked, frowning.

"I'm no expert," Ruffnut answered. "Just an observer. Maybe he just needs you to meet him where he is. Don't drag him along kicking and screaming to where you think he should be."

"I'm not dragging Hiccup anywhere."

"If you say so. I don't know the facts here and I really don't care."

Astrid narrowed her sharp blue eyes. "Then why are you criticizing me?"

"I think you're being too proud. But, I mean, that's kinda how you do you, right?"

Astrid could not think with the outrage buzzing in her brain like a swarm of bees. She could only pin down words of dissent and a number of colorful swears that would make Gobber blush. To be told by Ruffnut, of all people, that she was the one who was not looking at matters clearly, was too great an insult.

She was proud, true; but she was clever. How could someone so inept at dating was lecture her on the proper ways to go about it? The other blonde did not know the situation, and most certainly did not have a complete grasp of her position, nor Hiccup's. A relationship went both ways; and Astrid certainly was going above and beyond on her part—seeking Hiccup out, keeping him informed of her feelings and exactly what she wanted from him. She had no patience for head games, and so she was forthcoming about what bothered her and what he could do about it. He never had to guess with her, and was that not half the battle?

Was that not what men wanted?

For someone as smart as Hiccup was, Astrid was surprised how much she had to hold his hand in their relationship. In her opinion, she had to guide him too much.

Ruffnut did not know, and yet she was perfectly happy to stand there and dole out pearls of wisdom like she was the authority on the matter. She had no right and even less understanding. Astrid did not trust herself to speak, lest she say something she could not take back, imploding the tentative rekindling of her friendship with the other blonde.

"I've got to go," she blurted, turning on her heel.

She was feeling far too smothered under everyone else's judgment lately.

"How many months before I can expect to hear from you again?" Ruffnut called, her laughter ringing in Astrid's ears.

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Everything seemed to be crashing down on Astrid's shoulders, one way or another. Her parents made a promise to the Svensons and she had been expected to uphold it. She tried to do the right thing and stay close to her intended, and the subsequent dissolution of her friendships had been branded her fault—not the result of just trying to satisfy everyone, to make as little a fuss as she could. A clean break was easier, less messy. Still, she was the heartless one by group consensus. She tried so hard to honor her parents' arrangement and the Hofferson name, but the crushing weight of the misery it wrought left her with little recourse but to pursue whatever shred of happiness she could find.

That small joy had been Hiccup, and he had kept her sane and breathed life back into her. Then, he had to go and publicly challenge Stefnir of his own volition, and she was called the instigator for it—a temptress and breaker of promises. Taking back her future reflected poorly on her entire family, so she was the problem; the weed in the garden.

She flung open the front door to her house, startling both of her parents. Her mother began to rebuke her, but she did not give the woman the opportunity to finish a sentence. She retreated to her room, yanking off her cloak and tossing it on her bed. The brooch clanked against a bedpost, and it flashed in the gloomy daylight filtering in from her window, catching her attention.

The ornament featured a stylized Deadly Nadder, impeccably crafted by Hiccup's fifteen-year-old hands. The brooch had been a Snoggletog gift from a much sweeter, more innocent time; and it made her throat tighten. Her eyes welled up, but she was past the point of crying.

That boy she had loved once was gone. She thought she found him for a time during the summer, wrapped in a desperate embrace on Dragon Island, but he had been an impostor: only a poor imitation of the Hiccup who hung on her every word and considered her first. What she had wanted, and what those midnight kisses promised her, was not what she had received in the end.

So, the old adage was right: fantasy fell short of reality. Everything she had tarnished her reputation for, everything worth risking what little remained, was just an illusion: an echo of a memory. She had been struggling to turn it into something tangible, but Hiccup could not be bothered to help. Ever since he had become the Pride of Berk, things had been easy for him. He did not have to try.

Fuming, Astrid dug around her belongings until she found a piece of parchment. One side was scribbled up with dragon notes from years past, so she flipped it over and wrote as small as she legibly could. Her fingertips ached from how tightly she gripped the charcoal pencil, pressing her anger down into every line. She was hemorrhaging raw truths, and each word was like a bur being plucked from her heart. She only stopped when she ran out of material, punctuating the entire tirade with a simple "A."

Satisfied, she plopped down on the edge of her bed, holding the note in her hot and trembling fingers. The written words rattled in her brain as if she had shouted them: a one-sided argument, flawlessly executed against a vague and diminutive daydream of her boyfriend.

"Sneaky!" she called, twisting around to scan her bedroom.

Her brow furrowed, unable to find her Terrible Terror, until a soft pressure on her knees surprised her. She glanced down to find two big eyes considering her excitedly. Tiny wings unfurled as her dragon spotted the note in her hand.

"I need you to take this to Hiccup. He went to Helgafell," Astrid said, rolling up the parchment and securing it to the dragon's leg. "Can you do that?"

Sneaky tripped over himself as he scrambled for the window. He was overjoyed to have a job.

As he flew off into the cloudy distance felt lighter. She knew her letter had some weight behind it, and she hoped Hiccup was ready to carry his share.

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Hiccup was beyond relieved to step off the ship onto the rocky, snow-dusted shore of Helgafell. Two days at sea on a karve with his father, a few burly tribesmen, and one sheep with anxious bowels, had left him feeling claustrophobic. For the entire journey, there was nowhere to go, no safe retreat to be alone with his thoughts. To add to his dismay, his father saw it fit to educate him on all of the other chieftains and jarls he would encounter at the Dísablót; and a history of their various clans and settlements.

Exciting stuff, it was not; and he had been a captive audience. The destination he dreaded for the past week was now his salvation from the miseries of seafaring. Travel by dragon, he firmly decided, was far superior.

He sighed, taking in the frigid, bare spit of land that was Helgafell. Everything seemed to be the same shade of dull grayish brown: from the dirt to the water lapping at the coast, to the gnarled, bare trees. Only the thin layer of snow and distant evergreens gave the landscape any natural variety. All other color was provided by the sails and tents, sporting different sigils. Rich furs and sumptuous attire were worn by almost everyone of status, weaving through the crowd, giving life to the otherwise uninhabited island. Helgafell was meant to be a religious center and nothing more; but during the sacred season of Vetrnaetr, it became a bustling makeshift village, complete with its own trade, social hierarchies, and politics. It was a ruckus: chattering, singing, the hammering of camp setup, and the bleating of animals. The aroma of wet leather, livestock, and boiling meat, blended together and settled over Helgafell like a cloud of masculine frivolity.

"We'll settle in over there, along the tree line," Stoick said, nudging Hiccup before pointing to a clearing past a cluster of stalls and carts.

Accompanied by their oarsmen, Hiccup and his father made their way to the campsite: home for the next three days. Snow flurries fell, but all of their tents were erected despite numb fingers. They worked through the runny noses and watering eyes, as well as the stinging wind that blew about their cloaks and furs about without mercy.

Hiccup was to share a tent with his father, which left no room for privacy. The island itself was tiny; there was nowhere to slip off to for some peace and solitude where he would not be found. Apart from the tents and the market, there was the central temple, and the naked trees provided no shelter. The initial happiness he felt to disembark the karve was snuffed out.

"There we are!" his father chimed, clapping him on the shoulders. "Home away from home."

Hiccup flashed him a weak and disingenuous smile before his father shuffled him into the tent. He stumbled under the force of his Stoick's enthusiasm, tripping over his feet and landing unceremoniously on his bed. The tent was warmer inside, which was a plus: a combination of furs and condensed body heat.

He straightened up as his father sat down on the bed across from him, eager yet composed, like they were on some very first father-son fishing trip. The chief cleared his throat, then leaned forward with a serious, wrinkled brow.

"Now, Helgafell is a different atmosphere from Berk entirely, Hiccup. There's more going on here than you know."

"What? You mean it's not just a bunch of prominent chieftains coming together to drink and compare superiority complexes?"

"Aye, it's that," Stoick conceded, and there was a small grin hiding beneath that large, red mustache, "but the Dísablót is a scared event: a ceremony of very deep religious fervor. Emotions run high this time of year, and the drinks are plentiful; and there'll be plenty of people looking for any reason to fight, caught up in the passions of it all. Don't give them an excuse. You are to stay close to me. You are to listen and observe. Do not speak to other chieftains unless you are spoken to. Am I clear?"

Hiccup rolled his eyes, tugging at the heavy furs draped on his thin frame. He felt ridiculous, dressed up and ornamented in his finest clothes and silver. He wore tooled leather devoid of all dragon emblems, at his father's insistence; and far more layers than he would usually wear to keep warm. Dressing to his status was not something he did often, but he was his father's sole heir—the next leader of Berk—and the goal was for everyone to know it having to be said.

"Don't worry, dad," he replied, "I surveyed the company we'll be keeping, and I don't think I'll find too many people interested in conversation. They seem more of the grunting and pointing type."

"I'm serious, Hiccup. You'll need to tread carefully here. You'll see things that are very different than what you see on Berk. You'll hear things. You mustn't give anyone an excuse to regard Berk as an enemy."

Hiccup quirked an eyebrow. "You're worried I'm going to commit a social blunder that incites a war?"

Soitck shook his head. "No, no. That's not it." He pressed his hands together, fingers against pursed and thoughtful lips. "There is a larger world I've shielded you from. I can't find a reason to keep you in the dark any longer."

Hiccup could almost feel the ominous shadow lurking behind his father's words. "Whatever it is, dad, I'm sure I can handle it."

His father considered him with that unwavering pride. "I know. That's why you're here."

The large chieftain stood up and marched to the threshold of their tent, gesturing to the large and ornate temple that rose above the campsites. The structure was an authoritative presence with its height and austere angles.

"We have an important job to do here, son. We represent Berk before the gods and the dísir alike, to offer our sacrifice and be the bridge between the worlds of gods and men. Among the other chieftains, we represent the might and honor of the Hairy Hooligans."

Hiccup scoffed and stared down at his bracers, fidgeting with the lacings without real purpose. "Somehow I don't think the dísir split hairs over status, dad. In fact, I don't think they care much at all. I mean, sacrifices to appease them? I've often found the gods and the spirits care little for what we want. It's a one-sided relationship. We need them and they don't need us. I doubt any amount of tribute is going to fix that."

"Ahh, you'd best be keeping those thoughts to yourself; here and on Berk," Stoick said. "A chief is the spiritual center of his people. You lead by example, whether or not you personally put any stock in it."

Hiccup glanced up, brow knitted. He studied his father: a fiercely private man in matters of his faith apart from festival traditions. "Do you?" he asked.

There was a cryptic shadow in the lines of his father's face.

The chief replied, "Only as much as I can. I pray to Odin for the wisdom to lead, and to Thor to keep Berk safe. I believe the rest is a matter of forging my own destiny."

Hiccup nodded, gazing out at the temple through the thickening snowfall. To be honest, the whole concept of religion made him uncomfortable. His beliefs were his own and he practiced them as such, with varying degrees of reverence. Knowing he would have to be the keeper of the faith for all of Berk was just one more thing to add to the long list of responsibilities he did not want.

He turned to find his father watching him with that penetrating gaze of his—the same one he used in every attempt to read and understand his son better. That paternal stare always made Hiccup feel so small and transparent, though Stoick never seemed to know him any better for it.

A flash of white then caught his attention and broke the awkward lull in conversation. Billowing linens hovered outside their tent like a specter.

A woman stood there, with a basket in her hands and unbound, wavy hair collecting the snowflakes. She was barefooted, pale toes filthy with dirt. Her white dress blew around her, almost as if it had its own energy. She smiled, thin and mysterious, with astral eyes that looked through them into something far beyond. She offered the contents of her basket to Stoick, who politely declined. Craning his neck, Hiccup could make out her bounty of henbane seeds and shriveled mushrooms.

She inclined her head and went on her way without a word to anyone, onto the next crop of tents where she was received with enthusiasm. Hiccup moved from the bed to stand beside his father. He peered out into the snow, watching her move with an ethereal grace.

"Völva," Stoick said to Hiccup, gesturing to the women. "Some say they're not really human—that they live somewhere between this world and the next. Beware their feminine charms. It's said they'll ruin a man."

Hiccup's face fell.

"I've had more than my fair share of feminine charms, believe me," he muttered.

The völva moved from man to man, yet none of them heckled her, nor made a pass. While they raided her basket, everyone seemed to be wary of the petite and defenseless woman.

"Won't she freeze?" Hiccup asked, watching her walk over the ground with bare feet, with nothing to protect her from the harsh icy wind but the thin linen gown she wore.

"Apparently they are filled with the fires of Hálogi, and the fury of Thor's lightning. They are unable to feel the cold," Stoick explained.

"Huh."

The völva turned and gazed back at Hiccup—into him—and a wave of unease rippled through his gut. Her glassy stare traveled down his spine, plucking every nerve along the way. He could feel the violation of her otherworldly reach, digging deep for secrets and sins he kept buried. He was not one to put much stock in mysticism, but on the sacred ground of Helgafell, he knew better than to challenge it.

She smiled vaguely and he averted his eyes, pulling his hood up over his head. Only when she was gone from the corner of his gaze did he venture a sidelong glance around the lip of his cloak.

"C'mon, son," Stoick murmured, guiding him out into the snow with a firm hand. "There is business to take care of."

But what that business was, he did not bother to share. Hiccup and his father nodded to their oarsmen as they left what little shelter their camp provided, out into the throngs of Norsemen from all corners of the archipelago and beyond.

Almost instantly, it became clear how different Berk and the other tribes were. Hiccup was not naïve. He was well aware of the practices that had earned Vikings their fearsome reputation. He knew Berk had once been aggressors of the same cloth, but that was before dragons became too large a nuisance to avoid. Resources and attentions had to be diverted to defending their island instead of distant battles. News would still reach Berk: rumors of goings on across the Barbaric Sea; it was common knowledge that rape, pillaging, and murder was all under the permitted behavior of raiding foreign people in foreign lands.

But to see it paraded around so blatantly? Just about every other camp had thralls: some slaves for menial labor and others, for pleasure. Chieftains and their company sat in their tents or gathered around a campfire, drunk and rowdy, with thrall girls on their lap or at their feet. They were young girls, with barely the air of womanhood about them; and all zeal for life was gone from their faces. Their eyes were hollow and downcast. Meanwhile, the men laughed, swapping stories of conquest.

"And then the poor bastard begged me to let his family go. 'You can have the horses,' he says, 'but let my wife and kids be!' So, naturally, we took turns with his wife as he watched. Sobbed the entire time, he did! Might say we did him a mercy, running him through. Took the kids back with us and sold them to the highest bidder. Torched the farm," one bragged.

"Yes, but what of the horses?"

"Took 'em anyway!"

The story was punctuated with uproarious laughter.

Hiccup's hand balled into a fist, and it was hard to walk as his body tensed with the might of his hate.

"Best to block it out," his father whispered, guiding him along. "Don't listen. Don't think about it. Makes it easier."

Hiccup adjusted his furs, just for something to do with his shaking hands.

"Easier for what?"

"Politics. Business."

He recoiled. "Who sits down and drinks with men so vile?"

"You will. As Chief."

Hiccup shook his head. "No," he replied decisively. Never could he entertain such soulless barbarians, to compromise his own values for their benefit.

Stoick sighed. His face was ruddy from wind chill and his beard appeared grayer from the snowflakes clinging to it. More obvious still was the weariness: it was the look of a man who had carried so much, who was passing the burden to a son who finally understood.

"You will," his father insisted. "For your people. For Berk."

They trudged on and Hiccup rounded his shoulders, both to draw his limbs closer to his core for warmth and in moody resistance to the future being laid before him.

Year in and year out, he would attend religious ceremonies and various councils of chieftains, hearing them boast, witnessing their cruelty. All the while, he would endure in a neutral silence. For however long was prudent, he would keep the integration of dragons on Berk a secret. Every year, he would have to commit men or supplies to violent campaigns he did not believe in, whether directly or by trade agreements, to maintain fragile peace.

For Berk. Always for Berk. Never for himself.

His father slowed his stride as they approached a campsite with banners sporting a flaming boar. Hiccup recognized the image as the sigil for the Vandals of the Vale; an almost eidetic memory was useful for some things. He had spent the better part of one rainy evening, months ago, studying up on his politics under a watchful paternal eye; more of training for a birthright he did not really want. His father had practically breathed down his neck as he poured over the sigils of tribes he did not care about.

Much about the Vandals was still a mystery. What could not be ascertained from parchment, his father had sought fit to share during their two-day voyage. Hiccup had the tendency to stop listening between, "Things you'll have to know as Chief," and, "It's your destiny." What he had gleaned in the fleeting moments of attentiveness was the Vandals and the Hooligans were not enemies, but their peace was kept only by mutual favors.

"Stoick the Vast!" a booming voice preceded a short, rotund chieftain with a wiry blonde beard to rival his father's. "I was wondering when you'd show up! Still as big as a Monstrous Nightmare and every bit as ugly!"

Stoick chuckled and they embraced one another in a quick one-armed hug and back-slap combination.

"Einarr the Stouthearted," his father said.

"Stout in a whole lot of other ways too, eh?" the other chief grinned, patting his protruding belly.

"I told you to lay off the dragon meat," Stoick teased.

Hiccup felt as though he had been punched in the gut. 'What?' echoed over and over again through his head. At first, he was not sure he had heard correctly. He glanced back and forth from his father to Einarr, dismantling that sentence in his head before putting the words, one by one, back into their horrific order, with all its terrible implications.

Nausea rolled over him. His lip curled and he recoiled, but the two chieftains were too busy indulging in their banter to pay him any mind. He could not swallow, for fear he would become ill with the thought of consuming dragon flesh.

"I told you our soothsayer asserts dragon meat's supernatural effects on a man: the strength and virility gained," Einarr replied.

"Well, when you can light yourself on fire like a Monstrous Nightmare, I might find it in me to be impressed."

Stoick and Einarr chortled while Hiccup was still reeling, face contorted with obvious disgust. It took great effort to stifle his judgment as the Chief of the Vandals turned to him. The mood went from jovial to tense. Years had passed since Hiccup soured anyone's perception of him before he even opened his mouth. He nearly forgot what it felt like.

"So," Einarr said, puffing up, "this is him, then?"

"Aye," Stoick said, with all of that insufferable pride. "This is my son, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock."

'The third," Hiccup added mentally, with the usual sarcastic bite the other men could not hear.

He nodded. The gesture seemed safe and polite enough.

"Not what I would have expected for the infamous 'Dragon Conqueror'," Einarr mused, looking him over with narrowed eyes.

Hiccup furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to respond, but his father nudged him.

"He brought down the Red Death. I saw it with my own eyes."

"I have no reason to doubt your word, Stoick," Einarr replied, though he seemed to do just that. "I'm not interested in your son's exploits. I need to talk business with you. After winter's thaw, we'll be sailing to the south, but I'm short on men and ships to make any real go of it."

Stoick folded his arms. "You've always had more ships than Berk. Have you lost your edge in a season?"

"Aye. A plague, brought back from the mainland. Lost scores of good men and we had to burn the ships that carried them."

"And how will you guarantee any of our people won't suffer the same fate, raiding for a cause they don't believe in?

Einarr waved his heavily ringed hand with an exasperated sigh. "I'm not asking you for men, Stoick. I know you won't spare any. I have long since learned not to waste the energy hoping you'll compromise your mighty principles. Ships and weapons—that is what I ask of you. Berk builds them stronger and faster than any village I know of. Will you help me, or leave me to the mercies of Earl Ahlstrom and his greed? He'll bleed me to the point I have to raid a dozen settlements before I break even."

Stoick stroked his beard, dusting snow from the braided strands of fiery red. "And what's in it for Berk?"

"Profit. A return on the investment."

Stoick seemed satisfied, nodding as Einarr spoke.

"With raided goods?" Hiccup asked incredulously; he could not believe that the Cheif of Berk—his chief and father—was considering being paid with tainted wealth procured by violent means.

Their people had not raided since his great-grandfather assumed power with the death of his more violent, intemperate brother. With the exception of the Dragon War, Berk was a largely neutral and peaceful entity, more interested in its self-preservation than the terrorizing of vulnerable foreigners. Their wealth was obtained by more upstanding means: trade and commerce. Rape and pillaging were but an unfortunate stain of the Hooligans' history; one they tried to distance themselves from. It was not a way of life any longer—or so Hiccup thought.

Had he been that dense, that willfully ignorant to believe the goods they traded were all used for upstanding deeds? Weapons he had crafted for trade, he had never cared to know whose hands the ended up in, nor for what purpose. His work was his art; and to know it was commissioned for raiding? He felt betrayed; he felt foolish and obtuse. Funding such deplorable action for financial gain was not neutrality—not the sensible benevolence he had come to expect from his father. Permitting such violence was could not reconcile with his conscience.

"Hiccup—," Stoick hissed.

"Aye," Einarr replied. His voice grew low and dangerous. "Is there something wrong with that, boy? Has Berk become too high and mighty since the last summer's harvest? You've found other means of procuring your wealth since last year's campaign?"

Hiccup glanced at his father, searching that stony face for some reassurance that Berk did not bolster itself through indirect aggression; and he received no such peace of mind.

"Forgive my son," Stoick said, stepping forward to brush Hiccup out of Einarr's immediate judgment. "He is inexperienced in politics and certain, more unpleasant realities of the world."

If there were two things Hiccup could not stand, it was being both wrong and stupid; so completely made an idiot by his own doing. As difficult as it was to bear the weight of his father's glowing pride, it was equally uncomfortable to disappointment the man, though he had much more experience with the latter.

"I do not envy the job you have ahead of you, teaching him," Einarr scoffed.

Hiccup clenched his jaw and turned away. He could not look at Einarr, nor his father. He felt nothing but defiance—toward muddy politics, toward his inconvenient birthright, toward the whole godsdamned trip. None of it was him: not the pleasantries, the posturing, nor the façade of chiefliness.

Hiccup was the awkward square peg being hammered into a very round and narrow hole.

"Your proposition interests me. I think I may be able to help you, if we hash out the specifics," Stoick said.

Einarr seemed pleased, gesturing for them to join him in his lavish tent—adorned with stolen goods, no doubt.

What he said was nothing but a distant buzz to Hiccup's ears. His attention had been diverted, sharply and unexpectedly. Out of the throngs of Norsemen appeared a very familiar face—so familiar and out of place, that he just stared, bewildered. It was if a daydream had materialized to save him from his misery. His brain tried to rationalize what he was seeing, jogging up to him with a beaming grin.

A girl—woman—whom he had no reasonable expectation he would ever see again.

Her green eyes peered out at him from a tightly drawn hood. Her clothes old and tattered, and nowhere near as sumptuous as his own, nor that of the standard attire on Helgafell, but her radiance was not diminished.

She pulled down her hood, dark hair spilling out in stark contrast to her pale skin; he cheeks were rosy from the cold.

"Hiccup!" she exclaimed. "I barely recognized you!"

"Heather," he replied, breathless.

She threw her arms around him and he bristled, the air rushing from his lungs. Something in the back of his mind told him he should not enjoy the hug as much as did, but it was drowned out by the thundering of his pulse.

"Hiccup. Stay put," his father said, brandishing a stern finger as he slipped into Einarr's tent to conduct their business.

Hiccup could do nothing but nod, unable to protest, unable to move. Did he even want to?

"Wh—What are you, uh…What are you doing here?" he stammered, peeling Heather off him lest the embrace grow too comfortable.

She grasped his hands in hers, and there was still some warmth in them that the encroaching winter had not yet stolen away.

"We have a lot of catching up to do," she said; and he wished she was not so thrilled to see him.

The light in her eyes offended his conscience.

#Hiccstrid #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #httyd fic #how to train your dragon fanfic #hiccstrid fanfic #hiccstrid fanfiction #affairs au

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glyphcxre-m · 3 years

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A little small tidbit about towns / cities in cottage’s timeline to be expanded on later because I’m really tired and sick today and can’t bring myself to actually do a full doc yet. as much as i want to:

** These are places that will be referenced in a lot of threads/ and will likely be added to as they come to me.

Boneseborough: The home of the owl lady!! Much like in Canon, this is the home of Eda, Amity, Gus, and willow. Along with schools such as Hexside and Glandus High. What is unlike canon is Bonesboroughs sheer SIZE. It is one of the oldest cities on the isles, and is home to the more bizzare, monsterous type creatures. Founded by wild mages, and monsters alike. It holds a lot of history. && is known for its natural beauty. It is much less developed than places like Acadia. Though in Cottage’s timeline, it offers a robust mid and uptown, home to Hexside in midtown, and Glandus in uptown. While it is still considered older, it is much more developed than in canon. Uptown has a lot of resemblence to the up and coming modernity in Acadia. Downtown Bonesoborough is home to the historical district, and resembles canon a lot more. On the southern outskirts of bonesborough sits the un-developed suburbs, full of forests, rolling mountains and valleys. && is where you’ll find smaller hubs of activity. And of course---Eda && the Owl House.

Acadia: Also Known as the Witches City, this is where MOST full blooded witches make their home. (Or at least the ones who wish to make something of themselves).( Originally where the Blights lived, before they moved to bonesborough. ) Acadia offers a robust shopping district, as well as accredited schools, and upscale housing for its residents. It is probably one of the most popular tourist destinations on the Boiling isles outside of places like the Golden City. Cottage currently works here in the Celestial Bakery with Bee. && Hangs out here a lot.

The Golden City: Despite its Name, this is in reality--an entire Island. It is home to Belos, and the Emperors coven exclusively. Along with anyone who is related directly to a coven member and is under the good graces of the emperor. It gets its name for its affluent riches, and the depiction of golden monuments of the coven. It is an incredibly restricted area, there is no way in the upper city without direct approval (or being really good at sneaking / cottage / ). It is however, possible to access the lower city and civilian /shopping district through a undersea tunnel to the island. The upper city is restricted for Coven Heads, Officials and very important people. The castle itself, is its own jurisdiction entirely, and is heavily HEAVILY guarded.

Alessia: Meaning: The guardian. A small village on the Familiar Island. Occupied by a native tribe of sorcerers, warrior, & druid animals. In the past they were guides that would lead wild witches through the process of finding a familiar and bonding with it. They live off the resources of the island without outside resources, and base their way of life around familiars, and the magic they can posses. Belos started trying to capture / kill or otherwise use the familiars on their islands against their wishes. They now serve as guardians against the coven, and do not offer their services without thorough screening. Cottage went to them, and allowed them to guide her to find aspen the natural way. Putting a lot of research into their customs before she did so.

Wekesa: Meaning: born during the harvest (Cottage’s timeline’s version of Latissa) A port city on the Palisman Barrier Islands. Owned and operated by the Emperor’s Coven and used for harvesting Palisman wood. A hub for capturing and documenting Palisman. As well as where palisman were exported from for a long time before resources dwindled. This is also where the bat Queen resides, and is known to be hiding whats left of the surviving palisman. The coven has spoken of fighting her often.

For reference: The Tree house sits about 20 mins south of Acadia, and about 30 mins east of bonesborough. Cottage wanted to be close to both her work, and her school and friends.

#ooc #;hcs #this will grow when i think of more #but yeah heres this #i will make a doc of a lot of this at some point #long post

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theuniversitychallengereview · 3 years

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UC 51.02 - UCL vs St Hilda’s, Oxford

So, here in the UK it is Freedom Day, the day on which all of the Covid restrictions that have been in place to varying degrees since March of last year were nominally lifted. I say nominally because some of them are still in effect, and some are still in effect in some situations and not others, but most importantly we can all go to nightclubs and grind up against sweaty strangers again, and even more importantly for the governing Tory party, we are all distracted from the fact that cases are in the tens of thousands again and more than half a million people have been told to self-isolate by the suddenly semi-omnipotent Test and Trace App (which is still forgetting to do a lot of the actual tracing).

And yes, I understand that the vaccine rollout has been very successful, and that hospitalisations are not rising at the same rate as the cases, but they are still rising, and with no barriers in place to stop them from rising they will just, continue to rise...? And then, having promised that today is the magnificently wonderful Freedom Day (on which the Prime Minister himself is self-isolating, ironically, after U-turning on the invention of a loophole which would have made him exempt from the vagaries of the App), will Boris have the stones to turn around and admit that all of his bluster was, once again, just that.

I don’t really know the answer to that question. All I do know is that it was so hot today that no one went outside anyway, making the very first Freedom Day a bit of a damp (though rapidly evaporating) squib. And with that off my chest, lets answer a different sort of question as UCL take on St Hilda’s College, Oxford in the second match of the 2021/22 series of University Challenge.

This is St Hilda’s fifth appearance in the Paxman Era of the Challenge, and their first since 2006, with their best ever result a quarter-final loss to Manchester in 2005. Manchester went on to lose to tonight’s opponents UCL in the semi-finals that year, and UCL would go on to lose to Corpus Christi in the final. They have been beaten finalists once more in the intervening years, falling to Manchester in 2013.

But that’s enough waffle, and I’ll not bother with the rules, so here’s your first starter for ten...

I was watching Love Island yesterday, and based on the one episode I saw I am confident enough to say that UCL’s Traeger has a hair style that wouldn’t be out of place in the Villa. Aside from this, I’m fairly sure there will be no crossover between the two shows (and this isn’t a comment on the relative low-brow or high-brow nature of the two shows, it is purely being done as the set up to the joke which follows, so prepare yourselves for that) unless University Challenge introduces a surprise segment in which the contestants have to dress up as cats and mice and snog each other while scantily clad (though it is Freedom Day, so anything could happen).

St Hilda’s take the first starter of the night through their captain Dionisio, and take a few from the first bonus set, though they do not know that Thomas the Tank Engine was set in Sodor, which Paxman pronounces (to my ear) oddly. UCL hit back with the next two starters and go thirty points clear.

The first picture round is translations of the titles of Shakespeare plays, a topic I always find to be a terrible waste of the picture category. I understand there is still a problem solving element to it, but there are so many other types of question which utilise the format better. And there are enough questions about Shakespeare anyway.

St Hilda’s Bennett guesses an Agatha Christie novel for the next starter and gets ten points for his trouble, but he can only manage one bonus on football clubs who have won all four English leagues. Someone negs and we are even at fifty five points apiece, before Bennett takes his second of the evening to give St Hilda’s the lead again.

Kiso recognises Rachmaninoff’s second piano concerto after about two seconds of the music round, and is very pleased with himself (as well he should be). They only get one bonus but close to within five points. Pal gets Markov for the next starter (I’d initially typed the name out as Markoff and had an extensive riff on the fact that it might have been the first set of consecutive starters to have answers which ended with off, but obviously that’s redundant now so I can’t use any of it...).

Aided perhaps by their unicorn mascot (which I have just at this moment noticed), St Hilda’s go on a run which puts them sixty points clear going in to the second picture round. The picture starter is an actual picture this time, and goes to UCL’s Traeger, though Paxman is needlessly bitchy about his pronunciation of Ratched (as in Nurse Ratched). If the Londoners can go on a run now they might have a chance.

Fleming gives Yorkshire for the next starter, then corrects to West Yorkshire when prompted, and UCL close back to within fifteen points! A neg from Bennett cuts this to ten, and a correct answer from Maka eliminates it entirely. The scores are tied at 120 with a few minutes left. A distinct lack of knowledge on Pakistani geography leaves the score exactly the same after the bonus questions.

Making up for his premature buzz last time out, Bennett correctly identifies the oystercatcher from Paxman’s description, and St Hilda’s are once more in control. Two bonuses put them twenty clear.

An early buzz from Kiso, in which he frantically corrects Chinese to Mandarin Chinese gives UCL a chance. They maintain this urgency into the bonuses, with Kiso again interrupting Paxman to nominate Traeger, who is right, Five points in it. As the gong sounds they give answer, but they are wrong. Who knows whether it would have counted had they been right...

Final Score: UCL 135 - 140 St Hilda’s

Not that high-scoring a match, but more so than last week’s and even closer! This was great fun, and the two teams looked like they were enjoying themselves. There is a chance UCL come back as a high-scoring loser, but it is by no means guaranteed. See you next week for another first round match

#university challenge #bbc2 #st hildas #oxford #ucl #jeremy paxman #quizzy mondays

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xyliane · 4 years

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AUgust 7: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS 12 YEAR OLD

PROMPT THE SEVENTH: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS wait how can you childhood friends au killugon, I asked myself, forgetting that I had a whole-ass idea in my drafts already. this one’s a proper fic, too (minus editing cuz l o l it’s an AU writing challenge, not editing challenge). T, aged-up killugon, modern day au. ft ambiguous descriptions of social media, alluka, kalluto, and leorio in killua’s corner, and zushi and spinner in gon’s, brief discussion of getting plastered and dealing with a hangover. 5000 words.

0o0o0o0o0

The first sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Killua wakes up with a hangover.

This does not happen. Killua can count on one hand the number of times he’s gotten so drunk he’s had a hangover, and most of them are the fault of his little siblings. Little siblings who are now living together, whose couch he is currently painfully existing upon, half too hot and his toes way too cold. And the couch is too soft, an old secondhand thing he’d helped Alluka grapple up the stairs months ago after they found it outside an old dorm. He makes a notch in his very sore brain to blame the current situation on them. Kalluto might be kind enough to let a drunk big brother crash with them, but Alluka has a devious streak a mile wide.

Yeah. This is definitely their fault.

One eye slowly creaks open, surveying his surroundings through blurry vision. Nothing out of the ordinary here. He’s in the pajamas he’s left with Alluka forever ago, curled up under an old blanket he gave her for Nanika’s birthday. It’s covered in the Matrix code, all green letters on black wool. It barely covers him from chest to knees, which explains the cold toes.

Sunlight flickers through the curtains, cheerful and bright, and Killua pulls the blanket over his face. He’ll take cold toes over being blinded by his headache.

The second sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when a noise like a chainsaw burrowing through a marshmallow erupts from his phone buzzing on the coffee table, just barely out of reach.

Killua attempts to bury himself under the blanket. He’s not dealing with work today.

And then he remembers: He doesn’t have work. Work can’t bother him today. Not just because it’s a weekend—work never respected the sanctity of weekends, no matter that he was at least partially in charge and used to have a fancy degree hanging on his wall. He doesn’t have work anymore. Killua quit.

Which, well. That explains the hangover.

He’s still blaming his siblings.

His phone buzzes loud enough to break the sound barrier, and Killua decides, fuck it. He doesn’t have anything to lose. If it’s the-place-formerly-known-as-work, he can delete everything. If it’s Mom or Father, he can definitely delete everything. And maybe it’s a friendly person, congratulating him on giving up a job that for anyone else would have been an absolute money-making dream. He’ll delete those too.

It takes a few tries to unlock his phone, and it unfortunately involves opening his eyes, squinting against the glaring light of the screen. But once he does, he frowns. Maybe he’s seeing double. Or a hundredfold. Because he should not have this many notifications.

awwww cute, i hope u 2 find each other! the top one says. It has several hundred likes. Why is it in his notifications?

Scrolling down reveals that it’s not an anomaly.

wtf man how can you find a TWELVE YEAR OLD from FIFTEEN YEARS AGO.

Me and my mom went on a cruise around there once, it was really pretty!

this is so sweet T__T maybe this is him?

And then another hundred photos of brown-skinned men with varying degrees of shirt-wearing, all black haired and most of them buff in very appealing ways and all of them beaming at Killua.

“What the fuck,” Killua croaks as he scrolls through all of the images and messages. Maybe this is a dream. A really weird, hangover-induced dream about how little of a social life he has, that his phone is possessed by someone else’s. A warning of sorts, that he should never have installed any social media on his phone ever, not even for hookups.

The reason for all the notifications lies at the top of his own page. Just a few sentences, all-caps, with an image of an old crinkled photo of two boys on a tropical beach, grinning at the camera. Killua sees himself, white curly hair flying in all directions and pale skin sunburned and ruddy with the briny wind, happier than Killua can ever remember being. Next to him, one arm slung around his shoulders and the other holding a bucket full of seashells, is a brown-skinned boy with freckles dancing across his nose and the tops of his shoulders, brown eyes wide and laughing and black hair thick and spiked from some mix of wind and seawater and natural gravity defiance.

He didn’t know he still had this photo. It had followed him from childhood all the way through grad school, a carefully guarded keepsake hidden away from the watchful eyes of his parents and Illumi, before ending up in a box or a bag at some point in the last few years. Part of Killua thought he’d lost it in the move. He barely remembers much about being twelve, about the cruise he’d been forcibly dragged on. But he remembers…

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? yells the caption. WE WERE BEST FRIENDS FOR A WEEK WHEN I GOT DRAGGED ON A CRUISE BY MY ASSHOLE PARENTS. HE WAS 12 ON WHALE ISLAND 15 YEARS AGO. IF FOUND, DM IMMEDIATELY.

“Gon,” Killua breathes.

He gathers himself, wrapping the blanket around his head in a feeble protection against the morning, and lurches over to Alluka’s room.

He gets to bang on her door three times, confused spite winning out over his own pounding headache, before Kalluto appears out of their room, blinking blearily at Killua. “Shut up.”

Killua kicks Alluka’s door for good measure, and brandishes his phone in front of him like a weapon. “Not until you explain what the hell this is doing on the internet.”

Kalluto pales, then flushes, then pales again. “Oh. Um.”

At that, Alluka creaks her door open, guilty blue eyes far too awake for how close to noon it is. Killua kind of wants to kill her on principle alone. If he has to be hungover, so does everyone else.

“Explain,” he grinds out through his teeth.

The third and final sign that today is going to be an absolutely terrible day, is when Alluka puts on her most winning smile, the kind she uses to ward off angry customers and idiotic faux-academics on the internet. “Congratulations, Brother! I might have made you go viral.”

Killua throws his phone at her.

—————

Today’s going to be a good day, Gon decides. He’s been in the forests of East Gorteau for the better part of a month, which normally isn’t so bad. But this group has been…They’re nice enough, when Gon’s not spending half of his time explaining that, no, that species of plant does not make a good stew, and no, that species is endangered please don’t hunt them, and yes Gon is sure he doesn’t date his clients even after the hike, and no the reason the tent fell over again is because it wasn’t properly set up in the first place—

All of Aunt Mito’s complaints about tourists on Whale Island make so much more sense, now that Gon’s leading backwoods hikes.

But last night had been fun! Spinner had met the group at a pre-set campsite not far from their pickup so Gon hadn’t had to work the whole night, and he could relax with his friend over good food, more alcohol than he probably should have drunk, and not having to explain to Mrs. Yuldvin the difference between marijuana, buckeye, and poison oak again. Spinner had even taken care of the fire, although she had left him to rescue the Podomos siblings from the ruins of their tent with nothing more than a smirk and a wave. Nevertheless, Gon smiled through his headache all morning, because soon he’ll be home, and he can sleep.

Zushi is waiting in the parking lot once Gon’s done packing up the last of the gear and saying goodbye to Spinner, jeep idling while he flicks through his phone, thick eyebrows drawn together in increasing concern. He doesn’t even look up until Gon drops his pack onto the hood of the car, and he jolts so badly in surprise that he tosses his phone in the air.

“Are you okay?” Gon asks, and tries to peek at the screen.

Zushi pulls it up and away, a frantic look in his eyes. It won’t really keep Gon from seeing what’s happening, not if he wants to, but Zushi’s height is enough of a deterrent to make it hard. “You were gone way too long,” he says.

Gon leans against the hot metal of Zushi’s car. It wasn’t an unusual length for a trip, not really—this backcountry needs the length to be able to see and understand the region. Not to mention the Small Billed Swan preservation society keeping the whole place locked down except to authorized guides and trekkers. Zushi knows this. They’ve been roommates long enough that this isn’t even the longest time Gon’s been gone.

“You knew I’d be gone til today,” Gon says.

“Yeah, but…” Zushi’s eyebrows descend even further, scrunching his whole face up in worry. “You haven’t checked your phone, right?”

“No?” Even if he did have cell service, Gon never brings his own phone. He borrows Kite’s satellite phone, because it is more reliable and doesn’t need to be charged constantly.

“Okay. Well.” Zushi takes a deep breath, then another, one of Wing’s old meditation techniques. Despite his exhaustion and single-minded determination to sink into a real bed and sleep for a week, Gon feels a minor pang of worry. On breath three, he unlocks his phone and turns it towards Gon. “You’re a meme.”

On Zushi’s screen is a photo Gon can’t ever forget about. Backed by Whale Island’s sunbleached white beaches and the humid brilliant colors of summer, Gon sees himself—twelve, smiling from ear to ear, hair a mess from swimming and his shirt practically covered in sand from digging up all the seashells in his bucket. He’s got an arm around another boy, who’s caught mid-laugh so his blue eyes burn the same color as the sky, white curls even messier than Gon’s hair. They look like they’ve known each other their whole lives, like they’d still be best friends even if they haven’t seen or spoken to each other since the photo was taken.

Gon hopes Killua thinks so, too.

He cradles the phone in his hand, carefully zooming in on their faces and the errant crinkles visible through the photo. His own faded copy is in a drawer, having survived a whole trip around the world and countless apartment jumps. This one looks just as well cared for, in its own way.

“That…is you, right?” Zushi asks carefully. “Because Wing was asking, and half of Kite’s guide company is yelling about it on your social media page that you don’t even use, and now people are messaging me, and they’re saying the weirdest things, and the post is from last week, so—”

“It’s Killua,” Gon says. A smile spreads across his face, a mirror to the one he’d had when he was twelve. “That’s Killua!”

“Who?” the others ask, but Gon isn’t listening.

He spins, frantically searching his pockets for his phone. “Spinner, can you do me a favor?”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

Gon knew today was going to be a good day.

—————

It’s been a week, and Killua has quit all social media forever.

The steady buzz of his phone informing the apartment of his notifications is not his problem. Alluka’s the one who decided to hack into his phone and post something to his old public account, the one he mostly uses for photos of cats and complaining about terrible business precedents. He hasn’t posted much since school, and if anything, it should have simply vanished into the void of the internet.

He finds the culprit fairly quickly, and for once it’s not his sister’s moderate but dedicated video following.

“Old man, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Leorio lounges in Alluka and Kalluto’s living room, freshly out of his scrubs and looking pleased as all hell. “I just reblogged a fun post from my friend,” he says somewhat defensively. “You were a cute kid, Killua. What happened?”

Killua feels a growl creep up his throat. “You can’t just do that,” he snaps.

“It’s not my fault the people like my well-coiffed but rugged appearance and dedication to social justice in medicine.”

“You have 500,000 followers because you made a joke post two years ago, and some authorized user reblogged it five times. It has nothing to do with your ugly mug.” If Killua squints and plugs his ears, he can even see why people think Leorio’s attractive or whatever: tan skin, lean but strong as hell, actually takes care of his hair, not to mention a damn good doctor with one of the most prestigious institutions in Yorknew who spends most of his free time running health clinics in impoverished neighborhoods. That’s all swell. But then he starts talking, and Killua has no idea where the off button is.

Leorio spreads a hand out, gesturing vaguely with the glass of iced tea that he’d helped himself to out of Alluka’s stash. “It has everything to do with my ‘ugly mug,’” he says. “Which is why I used my powers for good and spread your post. Don’t you want to find him?”

“Not like this!”

“You were not going to find him at all,” Kalluto’s quiet voice pipes up from the kitchen. They have night classes tonight, but Killua has a feeling that even if they were supposed to be attending their Yorknew Uni lectures, they would still be here making Killua’s life worse. “You’ve had that picture for years, and you did not even try to look.”

Leorio gives him a judgmental look over the tops of his stupid tiny glasses. “You haven’t?”

It would be a losing game to bury his burning face in one of the throw pillows, so Killua does his best to cross his arms over his chest and glower instead. “I…tried.”

“And?”

“I don’t even know his last name!” Killua splutters. “I didn’t have his number or where he was from, other than his mom worked on the ship. And that cruiseline went bankrupt and liquidated everything before I could get out of the house, so I couldn’t even look that up.”

Kalluto crosses over from the kitchen and perches like a sweatshirt-wearing crow on the coffee table, their blue eyes carefully neutral under straight black bangs. “Alluka and Nanika would have helped. Or even Milluki, if you had explained the situation.”

“I was eighteen, okay? I just left home, and our parents were still being…shit, themselves, I guess.” He hadn’t even considered asking for help. Then again, he’d tried the moment he could, that first summer of undergrad where he didn’t have to come home and Illumi couldn’t spend half his time breathing down the back of Killua’s neck. He had a general idea of where they’d gone, maps of islands scurried away in the closet with the old photo and a bag full of seashells Gon had given him as a going-away present.

They’d been friends for a week, in the whirlwind way that only kids can be. The cruise ship was massive, and Killua’s parents were in meetings half the time and playing nice with the other rich people on board the other half. Killua had been bored witless, and Gon was everything he couldn’t have possibly imagined: encouraging Killua to go exploring, to stealing food from the kitchens, making him help clean up the decks, playing cards with the deckhands. Sneaking off the boat to visit an island without Killua’s parents while the ship was docked, scrambling over the burning hot sands and dashing through the jungle, diving into the waves fully clothed and competing to see who could find the biggest prettiest shells. Gon’d been Killua’s first friend, his first crush, his first…a lot of firsts.

Then the cruise had ended, and Killua forgot to give Gon his phone number. His address. Anything. They’d been so swept up in being friends, being best friends, it had seemed impossible that they would never see each other again.

Does Gon even remember? Why should he, when Killua hasn’t contacted him? Would they even be friends anymore?

Maybe he hadn’t searched hard enough. But part of Killua thinks he shouldn’t have tried at all.

The phone buzzes loudly, and Killua tries not to flinch.

“Hey, Killua. It’s okay.” Leorio leans forward, hands clasped over his too-long limbs and expression gentle. “If you want me to delete it, I will. Not sure I can help with the viral part of things, except maybe go through your messages and delete the gross ones, or at least find the weirdest ones for you to laugh at later.”

“Alluka and I have been doing this already,” Kalluto says, their posture a little too protective for Killua’s raw nerves at this point. “But perhaps you have some suggestions for what to do next, Dr. Paladiknight?”

Leorio smiles sympathetically. “Don’t read the comments? That said, most of your comments have been much more positive than anything I usually post. The masses seem to be genuinely rooting for you, kid.”

“I have only had to delete a dozen lewd messages for you this morning,” Kalluto adds, not mentioning the hundred or so that Alluka took care of yesterday.

Killua’s traitorous phone buzzes again, and that’s it. Time to bury himself in a pillow. Killua flops onto the couch, narrowly missing Leorio, and does his best to burrow into the cushions. “That’s just great,” he says into the fabric.

A comforting hand rubs against his hair, messing up the curls for a moment, and Killua refuses to admit that it’s nice, that he has friends like Leorio who even bother to care. “It could be worse. You could be dealing with this while still working a soul-sucking job making more money than most of us will see in our lifetimes, in exchange for giving up all of your morals.”

Killua groans loudly. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“You’re gonna need to do something, Killua! And hey, I might be able to set something up with my—”

“I already told you, no.”

“But it’s what you’re good at. And you wouldn’t be fucking people over to do it.”

“No.”

“Just listen for one—”

Killua lifts his head enough to glare as murderously as he can at Leorio. It must work at least a little, because the doctor shuts up.

Meanwhile, Kalluto is scrolling through Killua’s phone, poking at the screen occasionally. In the awkward silence, their sharp gasp is loud enough to shatter a window, and they hurriedly shove the phone in the pocket of their oversized sweatshirt.

Leorio raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

Kalluto squeezes their eyes shut for a moment, then carefully places the phone on the coffee table, screen pointed innocently at the ceiling. “You will want to look at this one, Brother.”

“This isn’t another erotic sandcastle is it?” he says.

Kalluto shakes their head, and Killua’s stomach lurches up his throat. Alluka has been the one excited about this whole thing. But Kalluto, as reserved as they are, is a massive romantic. The whole thing might be Alluka’s fault, but Killua knows it’s Kalluto who almost lets themselves believe it’ll work. Despite all of the false positives, the people who send messages that don’t sound right or photos that have the wrong smile.

Killua doesn’t want to hope. It can’t possibly be Gon. But his hands shake nonetheless as he unlocks his phone and finds a new message in his DMs.

It’s not from Gon.

Instead, someone with the icon of a small-billed white swan in a soft small-billed hat and a handle of @flymypretties has sent a photo of a brown-skinned man with spiky black hair absolutely covered in dirt and grime. He’s waving at the camera, a backpacking bag propped against his shoulder and the widest smile Killua has ever seen beaming straight through the screen and into his chest. Next to him and half out of frame, a tall tanned man with massive black eyebrows and a tank top showing off an impressive amount of muscle has his head in his hands. Killua feels a sharp stab of sympathy, somewhere buried beneath the racing of his heart.

look im sorry about this but this idiot can’t find his phone and we r kind of in the middle of nowhere so reception’s shit. he wants to know if you admit he found the biggest seashell on the beach, whatever that means.

For a long, long moment—seconds? minutes maybe?—Killua can do nothing but stare at the screen of his phone. Leorio and Kalluto both look at him with a mix of curiosity and worry, Kalluto starting to slowly reach for the phone.

In a completely childish protective moment, Killua grabs it against his chest, like the image will vanish if he doesn’t keep it close.

“Is it…?” Leorio asks.

Killua swallows heavily, trying to think around the roaring of the ocean in his ears. “I think so,” he says faintly.

Kalluto’s eyes widen, and they spin on their heels towards their room. “I’m calling Alluka!”

—————

“Has he responded?”

“No!”

“…what about now?”

Spinner throws her hands in the air so violently that her hat falls off. “For god’s sake, Gon, it’s been an hour, you don’t even have your phone, and you still need to go home.”

Gon huffs and pouts. They’re still in the parking lot over an hour after the rest of the trekking group has left, and all the exhaustion that had settled into Gon’s body from the tour has been turned into a jittery energy that keeps trying to leak out from under his skin. He wants to go home immediately and dig out his copy of the photo, rub out the old fingerprints he and Aunt Mito have left on it over the years. He wants to find his phone and message Killua directly. He wants to wait right here until Killua responds, no matter how long it takes.

He knows it’s childish, to be this selfish. Spinner has work to do, work that she already put on hold to help with the last day of the tour. Kite probably will want to know what’s happening, or at least why his lead guide and his chief guide organizer have been stuck in a parking lot. And Gon can practically feel Zushi’s obsessive scrolling through social media, frantically trying to navigate Gon’s feeds without actually having access.

Gon needs to find his phone.

“Spinner, what if—”

It’s not that Spinner’s a large woman. Out of the three people standing in the parking lot, Zushi’s far and away the strongest, even if he is about as threatening as a large, muscular teddy bear. And Gon has only packed on weight and muscle over his years of backpacking around the wilderness, no matter that he’s not super tall. But Spinner goes for longer, harder treks on her own than anyone but Kite, and she packs in her own climbing gear on top of that, so when she tosses Gon into the back of Zushi’s jeep, he flies.

“Zushi,” she says in a low exhausted snarl, and he jumps right off the hood of his car. Gon probably would have felt bad for him, if everything wasn’t spinning. “If you do not take your roommate home, I am not responsible for the consequences.”

“What if you hear back?” Gon groans around the aches in his side.

Spinner rolls her eyes, and Gon knows she’s just tired. “I’ll let you know.”

“But what if my phone’s gone? What will I do if someone stole it, or if I can’t—”

“I’ll call you go home already,” she says, and slams the door shut on his face.

For a long moment, the only sound is Spinner storming away, boots thudding heavily in the dirt until her car door slams.

The jeep shifts slightly as Zushi quietly lowers himself into the driver’s seat and puts the key into the ignition. Gon wants to tell him to follow Spinner, so she can yell out the window as soon as Killua gets back to her. But Zushi looks about ready to bolt. So Gon slumps back in the seat, the rumble of tires crunching through gravel making his already jittery nerves shake.

A small voice that sounds a lot like Kite tells Gon that it’s better to wait, that it will be easier to have a conversation and determine if this really is Killua after a rest and a shower.

Gon doesn’t want that, though. He wants…

It’s been a long time since he was on Whale Island. Longer still since he saw Killua. That doesn’t mean he stopped thinking about either of them, during the quiet moments out under the stars. They’re part of him, like his lungs are part of him—essential and irreplaceable, buried so far inside that removing them would change him irrevocably.

What is Killua like now? Is Gon just as important to him as he is to Gon? He has to be. Right?

They make it home without saying anything else. Gon floats in and out between bone-deep weariness and electric sparks of nervous joy, and Zushi flinches every time Gon jolts himself from one to the other.

“Hey, are you…I mean, maybe not okay, but.”

Gon lifts his chin up sharply at the sound of his roommate’s voice, and notices the familiar apartment complex in front of him. Oh, they’re home. “I’m good,” he says, and grins.

“Sure,” Zushi says like he doesn’t believe Gon.

A dubious silence stretches out between them as they gather the rest of the gear, dropping it in a heap on the sidewalk. “You were kids, though,” Zushi finally says.

Gon shrugs and slams the door shut hard enough to make the vehicle rattle. “I didn’t forget. So I don’t think Killua would, either.”

Zushi’s eyebrows wrinkle on each other, like they can’t decide whether to go up or down and settle on some combination of the two. “What if he did?”

“He didn’t,” Gon says, more sure of that than anything else in his life.

Zushi’s eyebrows dance again, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Between Gon’s camping gear and Zushi’s leftover practice pads, it takes longer than Gon’s excitement can take to get everything settled enough to look for his phone. Well, Gon would have liked to look for his phone, but Zushi makes a pointed look at the shower. There are only so many places the phone could be in the whole apartment, after all.

Gon’s just drying off when Zushi knocks on the door. “I found it, but it’s dead,” he says, voice muffled.

“Then charge it!” Gon shouts. After a moment, he adds, quieter and less snappishly, “Please?”

A faint laugh echoes through the apartment.

By the time Gon can make himself a very early dinner of whatever he could grab out of the cabinets without thinking, the phone is charged enough to turn on. Sure enough, there are a wide variety of messages, mostly from Kite’s groupchat asking about the viral post. A few are from former hikers, people who Gon liked enough to share contact info, offering to see if they can get in touch. There are even a few—okay, how did they get ahold of his old social media page? It’s practically defunct, since Gon’s never had a phone capable of more than the most basic apps. And those are…

It’s flattering in a way, but Gon’s not really into that. Or them.

Zushi catches sight of the grimace, and takes one look over Gon’s shoulder before turning beet red.

By the time he’s gone through and deleted the vast majority of what had been filling up his phone, there’s still no message from Spinner, and nothing at all from Killua. Gon sighs and lies his head down on the table with a heavy thunk.

The other chair scrapes heavily along the tiles as Zushi sits, a mug of coffee in his hands. “What will you do? When he messages you, I mean.”

When, not if, an unexpected certainty coming from Zushi. Gon has the best friends in the world. “Talk to him,” Gon says. “It’s only been fifteen years, right? We promised we’d be friends forever.”

“A lot changes in fifteen years,” Zushi says.

“Not that.”

“Then why didn’t you look for him?”

Gon frowns. It had taken a long, long time, but Aunt Mito managed to track down the cruise captain the last time they were in port, tracing through old charters until the right names came up. But when she’d called them up, she’d been met with stonewall after stonewall, pleasant-sounding voices insisting in no uncertain terms that she would never speak with a member of Killua’s family, let alone let her son speak to his friend. By the time Gon was old enough to look himself, he found nothing but a mansion full of people whose eyes matched Killua’s in everything except for his warmth, who refused to even acknowledge Gon’s presence except to throw him out.

That had been years ago. It’s not that Gon stopped looking. Not exactly.

“I did, but I—” Gon starts to say, but his phone buzzes violently against the table, and they both jump out of their chairs.

“Is it—?” Zushi asks, breath in his throat.

It’s a message from Spinner. you owe me big time, kid, she says, followed by a phone number.

Gon rips his phone off the cable, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It is,” he says, and dials Killua.

—————

bzz bzz—

bzz b—

“H-hello?”

“Killua! Hi!”

“…Gon? Is that—It’s really…?”

“Killua, it’s you, I thought I’d never—”

“I did find the biggest seashell, and you know it.”

A breath, sharp and astonished. “The blue and white one, with green lines.”

“I found it, and I gave it to you.”

“I still have it.”

A snort of amusement, slightly damp. “I know. You promised you’d keep it.”

“I did. And I promised—”

“That we’d be friends forever.”

A laugh, delighted and teary at the same time. “I knew you remembered.”

“I did promise you that I would.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

(AUgust prompts)

#AUgust2020 #hunter x hunter #hxh #killugon #gon freecss #killua zoldyck #alluka zoldyck #kalluto zoldyck #leorio paladiknight #zushi #spinner clow #gone viral au #fluff #and then killua visits gon and they get together and everything is lovely and killua finally takes leorio up on his offer the end #thanks tumblr for fucking up my tag for this whole challenge #my writing

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fykimtaehyung · 5 years

Text

[ARTICLE] Break the Internet: BTS

PAPER: What's the greatest challenge you've faced as a group, and how did you overcome it?

RM: Seven grown men always staying close together and experiencing work and life at the same time means that we come face to face with numerous contradictions and differences. But I think we overcame that by working on understanding and caring for each other over time.

Suga: Seven men with different values living together was not easy. It was difficult for all of us to focus our thoughts on one single point, but looking back, they are all good memories.

J-Hope: There was a time when we fought each other quite a bit because we all came from different backgrounds and our personalities were so different. But we were able to overcome that after frequently talking to each other and living together for a long time. We now know what each of us are thinking just by looking at each other.

Jimin: Because each member was so different, I think it was hard for everyone to understand each other. But we didn't give up, and now we are a team where each member is irreplaceable.

Jungkook: When something I said or did caused an issue or made people feel disappointed, I realized that I should think twice before I do anything, and not forget where I am, no matter what situation I may be in.

If you could switch talents with one of your bandmates for 24 hours, who would you choose and why?

RM: I would like to dance like J-Hope just for one day. What would that feel like?

Jin: V's ability to memorize choreography. I want to say to RM, "Have you already forgotten [the moves]?"

Suga: RM — I want to be good at English.

J-Hope: Suga's amazing producing skills!!!

Jimin: J-Hope's smiley face. Looking at J-Hope, I think his smiley face is really adorable.

V: I want to borrow RM's brain and make a whole bunch of songs.

Jungkook: RM. I want to write really nice lyrics and have deeper thoughts.

Do you ever feel pressured, in the face of global fame, to present yourselves a certain way to the world? What do you do when you feel overwhelmed to be “perfect"?

RM: It would be untruthful if I said there was no pressure. Still, on stage I want to do really well.

Jin: I try to keep myself on the right lane.

Suga: I would not be telling the truth if I said there's no pressure. But what can you do? Pressure is also one part of life.

J-Hope: I can't say we don't. These days, I feel like I live with a sense of mission. Rather than thinking, “It has to be perfect!," I do what I have to do, making sure I remember the really important and fundamental things and trust that the results will follow.

Jimin: All things aside, I always think that I have to show a performance that is at least close to perfection for everyone who comes to see our performance.

V: I feel the pressure of showing a performance that is close to perfection, but I also think that being natural is important, too.

Jungkook: The pressure is always there. But I want to show them that I am improving.

Is there any advice you wish you could give your younger selves?

RM: If you're debating whether to go or not, go.

Jin: Jin, study English!

Suga: Please study English.

J-Hope: When things get tough, look at the people who love you! You will get energy from them.

Jimin: Silence is golden. Don't waste time.

V: You worked hard! [Pat on the back.]

Jungkook: Don't lose the people beside you because of your mistakes and wrongs. And live [your life] to the fullest.

You recently took an extended vacation in order to rest and get some relaxation after a long span of releases and promotions. How did you spend your vacation?

RM: I slept, worked out and went to art museums quite a lot. I went to Jeju Island, Venice, Vienna and Copenhagen.

Jin: I played games at home. I also went fishing with Suga.

Suga: I focused on resting and worked on some songs. It was a time [for] looking back at myself.

J-Hope: I went to film the music video for "Chicken Noodle Soup." I felt and learned a lot of things! I can't call it a rest time, but it was a meaningful time. After that, I came back home, I had good food and rested well. I also played with my puppy.

Jimin: I just kept on the move and went to a bunch of places. It was an opportunity to think about [the group] in the past and in the future.

V: I took a good rest. It was an eat-play-sleep routine.

Jungkook: I worked on music.

Are there any music styles you haven't tried yet as a group that you're excited to dip into in the future?

RM: I want to show our various sides that reflect the progression of our age as well as our emotions and sensibilities.

Jin: I want to try something in the genre of rock. I think it will come out great because our members are pretty charismatic.

Suga: There are so many I don't know which one to say. There's plenty of things to show you, so please look forward to it.

J-Hope: Now it feels like BTS is just BTS. Whichever [style of] music or performance, it comes out in BTS style.

Jimin: There are so many things I want to try, but I don't want to be too specific about it.

V: I want to try doing music in the style of Conan Gray or "All Tinted."

Jungkook: It's different from time to time. I just hope I can widen my vocal spectrum regardless of what that might be.

Your fans, ARMY, are one of the most passionate, mobilized music fanbases in the world, especially on social media. How would you define what makes your fanbase so special?

BTS: It's an honor that people around the world love our music and messages. It seems like there's no language barrier. We think that ARMY helped us spread our music across the world. All of this would have not been possible without ARMY.

Another theme in your music is dreams. With all the heaviness of the world today, do you think dreams help people find meaning and ambition to move forward amid uncertain times?

RM: We just hope that we can be of help. We did say that you don't have to dream, but living a life without dreams or hope would be quite dim, wouldn't it? I think everyone needs motivation and milestones in order to move. Whatever that may be, we want to be of help, even a little, for them to move forward.

So many of your dreams have come true since you'd made your debut: No. 1 albums around the world, sold-out stadium tours, Grammys and U.S. award shows, becoming the first Korean music group to perform on Saturday Night Live…What new dreams have sparked for each of you now that you have these accomplishments crossed off the list?

RM: I want to head in a straight path without losing sight of what I feel now. [I want to] keep our passion burning bright and walk straight.

Jin: I talk to Producer Bang quite often about how we should work together for a happy life. How to live happily...I think about that frequently.

Suga: I would like to have a hobby since I never had one. I would love to have a lifelong hobby.

J-Hope: To stay healthy! So that we can keep doing what we're doing now!!!

Jimin: I know that many people are cheering for us for who we are now. I think about how those people would love seeing our new, better music and performances. What I'm trying to say is, my dream is to show them more performances and better music for a long, long time.

V: They're not new dreams, but dreams that we never imagined could achieve. I'd like to keep them going.

Jungkook: I wouldn't want anything more than to keep doing music and performances just like now.

What do you hope to get better at or improve upon?

RM: Dancing! And knowing "myself."

Jin: I hope that the team always gets along and everyone is happy.

Suga: Without a question, English.

J-Hope: Our team's health! And happiness! They are the path to growth!

Jimin: I want to be good at what I am currently doing.

V: I want to widen my spectrum and become an artist who has a variety of talents.

Jungkook: If I had a chance to improve every aspect of myself, then I would work hard to make it happen rather than just sitting idly by.

Your fans, ARMY, are one of the most passionate, mobilized music fanbases in the world. How would you define what makes your fanbase so special?

What music is exciting you right now? What's on your personal playlists?

RM: I'm listening to Post Malone's latest album.

Jin: Taylor Swift's “ME!" The song has a bright energy, so my mood is lifted when I listen to it. I want to try that kind of music, too.

Suga: Post Malone's “Circles."

J-Hope: I listen to older songs these days: The Fugees' “Killing Me Softly" and Cheryl Lynn's “Got to Be Real."

Jimin: I prefer songs that fill me with emotions. Nowadays, I listen to our song “Jamais Vu."

V: I'm listening to DaBaby's new album.

Jungkook: I'm listening to Jang Beom June's songs these days.

What did it mean for your album to be nominated at the 2019 Grammy Awards for Best Recording Package?

BTS: It truly was an honor. We were happy to be invited as presenters to such a big show, with such great musicians. We also became members of the Recording Academy this year. We hope to be invited to the show next year as well.

The importance and power of “loving yourself" is a cornerstone of the BTS message, in your lyrics, speeches, music videos and beyond. But when and how did the notion of self-love become something you were all so passionate about?

BTS: Our LOVE YOURSELF series bears the message that “loving yourself is the beginning of true love." The “love" that we aim to convey can be both the individual experience and a message to our society today. We once saw somewhere that “being able to love is also an ability. If you don't love yourself, you can never love anyone else." Reflecting on the ways you love yourself, we thought that this question could give the answer for many different aspects. We wanted to focus on that searching process and find the answers. [We] think LOVE YOURSELF has a positive impact. [We] also ask ourselves, “Do I really love myself?" So, [we] looked back one more time and put that notion into the lyrics.

What are the key differences in performing for audiences back home vs. elsewhere in the world?

BTS: Fans all over the world are cheering for us. We get on stage with the mindset to give them the best performance. Every occasion to meet our fans is important and meaningful.

How has social media and the Internet impacted the way you're able to reach listeners?

BTS: We like communicating with our fans. We communicated [with them online] even before our debut. Fans enjoy it and so do we. Our Weverse app was launched recently, which is a platform for our fans. We can see their messages and leave comments there. We feel that the whole world is truly connected as one through social media. Language is not a big barrier anymore, and we think that with good music, sincere messages and the effort to communicate, fans from all around the world will show their love.

What can you share about any upcoming new music?

BTS: We are currently practicing and working on new songs so we can show you the best sides of ourselves. Please look forward to it.

#191120 #taehyung #v #bts #bangtan #t: interview #t: article

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vedj-f-bekuesu · 4 years

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Hey, I’ve finally gotten another step in my Ninjago watch!

Before I go through the season, there are some reasons why it’s taken so long to get to Possession.

1. Mum’s course I mentioned before is due to be handed in by tomorrow, so it’s been a bit hands on deck for her. Naturally, this means I’m being pulled in more to help. 2. The reason I started this was because I wasn’t able do my own work so had a lot of time to use up. Well, in the past week, it went from “oh you can’t work from home” to “you could but your smart card is at work and we won’t let you in so you’ll have to reject it” to “actually we can totally Indiana Jones it, here’s some WARs”, so I’m actually working again, so this will probably be a lot slower to go through. 3. Honestly, Tournament of Elements took a bit of wind out the sails. I mean, it was such a slog to go through, I was hesitant to do that again in a hurry if Possession ended up being a rinse and repeat of that.

But today, I’ve finally gotten through the season and...it’s serendipitous that this features the Elemental Master of Wind because this really was a second wind. I said that perhaps with it parring down the cast to a central focus that it would improve the quality over Tournament of Elements and that seems to have been the case. Let’s go through the points.

-I have barely anything bad to say about the characterisation of any character, main or side. Like, this season was mostly on point. I guess the main ninja were a touch on the mean-spirited side at the start, but this get smoothed out by the plot advancing. Jay could also get a little obnoxious at the start, but this was balanced out by him sassing out Wu for his absolute failure to disclose Morro’s existence anyway. -Of course the standout character is Nya, what with her whole sideplot and ending up a water-based BAMF in the ending. -The events of the Dark Island part of season 2 makes Kai’s fear of water and inability to swim jarring at first (because he swims just fine there), but I guess this was a change brought on by Rebooted’s soft reboot. -Even Lloyd has his moments even though at this point his character feels fairly weak since the show is pretty much just interested in his status as this really powerful hero. But his moment to reconcile his grief with his dad is done nicely, and makes a better sendoff than season 4′s. -Ronin’s good but that one moment was pretty uncomfortable. Thankfully due to circumstances it didn’t actually happen which prevents it from pushing it over. -But can I talk about the fact the show seems to expect you to have seen media outside of the show to understand his debut? When the ninja talk about Ronin as an old annoyance, I was like “man, you really think I played Shadow of Ronin, huh”. It would have been a shaky assumption in 2015 because the 3DS wasn’t exactly a big hit. But five years later, when the 3DS is nigh obsolete and I haven’t used mine in ages? It doesn’t help that the game is actually technically non-canon, only happening in vague. -Morro is probably the best villain of the old stuff so far. I don’t care if he’s this edgy teenage bad boy that younger fans tend to veer to, his biggest strength is that despite him being another conqueror and having a lot of power, he still comes off as very human. He still has attitude quirks (like being a bit casual in places), he treats his minions different to any other villain so far, he makes mistakes and has slip-ups, and the conflict felt more like an actual to-and-fro as opposed to one side completely dominating over the other requiring some deus-ex to balance it (even season 1 had this issue, lest we forget how the ninja failed to secure a single thing in their fetch quest). Thus, when Morro is faced with his mortality and finally sees what Wu was trying to teach him, it feels like that would be a natural conclusion to his arc. -So Kai and LLoyd’s dynamic is good, it’s a callback to Kai’s development from season 1 where he got over himself and dedicated himself to looking after Lloyd (I mean, the episode itself fell a bit like an asspull, but S2 and S3 stuck it as a recurring theme), but what surprised me is that there’s actually relatively little of it in the season. There’s a bit at the beginning, then it tapers off until like the third to last episode. The way people talked about it made it seem like this big recurring arc but it’s not. -Kai and Nya get surprisingly little throughout Nya’s actual training arc. You’d think Nya training to be the water ninja would be a bigger deal for Kai. They remember to give us a good dollop of it in the finale though. -Can I take an aside to talk about Kai and Cole’s dynamic again? After S1 had such a good thing between them, I thought it was going to drop off entirely. S2 seemed to make good on that...but then S3 brought it back, albeit a bit more reserved. Even S4 had the same level. Why bring it up now? Because S5 turns it up to the point where it was one of the dominating dynamics outside of all four ninja together. And yet I have never heard this referred to by anyone. What, if two characters aren’t explicitly honed in on for interaction (ie Cole and Jay’s whole drama thing, Cole and Zane in S4/S8...I can’t think of any I’ve seen that don’t involve Cole yet), then it’s just pushed to the wayside? No wonder S13 seems to have decided that it finally needs to be addressed after the last two joint seasons focused on Jay and Nya then Kai and Nya. -Speaking of, Jay and Zane actually get a cute dynamic going, albeit not as pronounced. Jay and Nya is surprising neglected, only getting some visual cues in the ending. Then again, I guess that’s what the next season is for. -This season is not actually dark to be honest. There’s a couple of points where it drifts into that territory, but one moment is the climax which is typical for a kids show, and the other I guess is Cole’s thing (although the next episode took the edge out of that). That being said, kudos to them for sticking out the change to the status quo so it isn’t just a one season gimmick. -Season 5 really said “That green ninja jealousy from S4 was shit so we’re just going to ignore it”. While I still have an issue with it as above, this is a relief. -Pacing here is fine, I have no issues with for once.

So overall, Possession is a pretty good season, I can see why so many consider it one of, if not, the best. My only real beef with it is that the secondary dynamics (outside of the four ninja but within the general team) end up surprisingly underutilised. Otherwise, the only other barrier it has with me is just my preference for more light-hearted affair than this season’s fairly middling (but not dark) tone, but it’s so competently done that it still manages to outpace seasons that do hit that tone.

I would have to see S11 again to see how I’d stack it up to this, but my current season ranks are as follows;

S12>S11>=S5>S1>S2>S4>S3

So, next time I watch again, it’ll be one of the more marmite seasons in the pack; Skybound. One of the coolest season names, but can it continue Possession’s quality?

For now though, I have a whole thing lined up gushing about Prime Empire’s thematic roots because Prime Empire is amazing. And also I’ll have a (probable) season finale to watch and S13 leaks to look for.

#ninjago #vedj-f reviews #vedj-f talks #ns5 #I was surprised how little the whole ghost thing showed up in the actual settings tbh #the only ones really horror-based were the haunted temple and the ending #this isn't a bad thing though

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wholecalamity · 4 years

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Child’s Play Chapter 2 - Friends in High Places

Links to posts with the previous chapters will be at the bottom!

–

The cool winds ruffled Naito’s hair as he gazed upon the vast landscape below him, a safe distance from the edge thanks to the hard-light barrier covering the perimeter of the floating island on which he stood.

Today, his caretaker was some “Android” uncle Draedon had made, named Klaire. He had no clue what an “android” was other than that it meant that she was a robot, which couldn’t be true because she looked just like a human!

She could make portals, just like Uncle Yharim’s pet dog, which was really cool!

The island in question was mostly artificial, an attempt at harnessing the power of natural floating islands in an experiment to create an aerial fortress.

However, several problems arose, including logistics and the fact that they would grow too heavy for mere solidified clouds.

Luckily, this “Android” was allowed to keep this vastly unfinished prototype; several islands merged into one super-island, which had been converted into something akin to a personal home.

Harpies and other strange birds watched down upon him from the large trees that dotted the place, as bunnies of many kinds roamed the yard.

He loved this place! So many things to do, and he’d only been here for a few minutes!

But then, without warning, the sky went dark. That’s weird! They were above the clouds, so what could possibly…?

Roaaar!

A great serpent dove down from the sky; a full grown Wyvern, looking to make a quick bite-sized snack out of Naito!

“Oh no you don’t!” His caretaker shouted, jumping between the two. With a swipe of her arm, reality was torn open as a portal appeared, unleashing an even greater serpent.

An armor-plated worm-like creature shot forth from the portal, snatching the Wyvern with its large pincers with honed precision.

The great serpent came down, coiling up like a house-sized rattlesnake. With a twist of its head, the hostile wyvern went down the hatch with a comical slurp.

“Nice catch, big boy!” The pinkette praised the giant armored worm as she gingerly gave it scritches on the neck.

Naito looked up in awe at the large serpent as it turned to face him, chittering curiously.

“Big wormy!” He called out, reaching up to pet it. Seeing what he was trying to do, the serpent bent down within arm’s reach of the small boy.

His caretaker ‘aaw’d’ at their antics.

“Hey, little man.” Klaire began, pulling out a humorously oversized piece of raw meat on the bone. “You wanna feed ‘em yourself?”

The little boy looked at the oversized morsel.

“Noooo! You’re supposed to cook it first!”

Deep inside the mind of Storm Weaver, its primitive intelligence slowly began to turn the gears.

‘What is cook?’

“Eeh?” The android had a look of confusion.

“You’re supposed to cook food, miss Klaire! It makes it taste better and makes it safe to eat too!”

‘Make food better?’ This got the serpents attention as it leaned in closer, wagging its tail the best a serpent could.

Klaire looked at Naito, then back up at Storm Weaver, who had begun drooling at the thought of a good meal.

“Heh.” The android shrugged, smiling. “Can’t argue with that…”

With a flick of her wrist, a rising spiral of godslayer flames leapt from her hand, roasting the meat chunk in seconds until it became a fine medium rare.

“Lunch is served!”

Storm Weaver took a bite of the cooked meat…

…and immediately entered a whole new world of flavor as the juices courses over its taste buds.

‘Cooked meat is…delicious! Taste better than chicken noodle…!’

It quickly chomped up the rest and curled up in front of Klaire, begging for more.

“Heh, how could I say no to that face?”

“I’m hungry too, Miss Klaire!”

“And what is it that you seek?”

Naito raises his arms into the air excitedly. “Hamborgar!”

Storm Weaver was very excited to discover what a ‘hamborgar’ was.

–

Several days later, Storm Weaver sat in front of his prey, a freshly slain wyvern.

He would learn how to cook his own food, one way or another. Lightning shot forth from his mandibles.

It came out a little crispy, but it was definitely an improvement from last time!

And maybe, just one day, Stormy could learn how to make a ‘hamborgar’ without big sis Klaire’s help.

–

Chapters

Cookies and Catharsis

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deetz-n-beej · 5 years

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The Surprise

((Here, have a smutty drabble based on something @xxx-theartofsuicide-xxx said. You’re welcome!))

Son of a bitch.

Summer vacation had started hours ago and Beetlejuice had yet to be called into the land of the living to start on the Beej and Lyds Super Summer Power Hour that they’d been planning for months. In fact, he hadn’t heard from his girl in a couple of days. Usually, they were inseparable, but with school ending and her parents fucking off on another vacation she wasn’t invited on, he’d wanted to let his wife have some space. Being seventeen is a hell of a thing.

He sighed softly as he leaned against the back side of her mirror, waiting to see if today was the day he’d be let out. He could hear Delia’s shrill voice from downstairs, going on and on about whether or not Charles had packed appropriately for the Virgin Islands, and he rolled his eyes. Was his girl really having to deal with this shit?

Several minutes after the slamming of the car door that announced the Deetz’s departure, he finally heard the bedroom door open and sprang up to press his face against the glass, trying to see Lydia from his limited vantage point. “Babes? Ya there? Lemme out already! We gotta get started on our summer vacay!”

She smiled weakly as she came into view, dressed in a black day dress that covered her from ankle to neck. There were thick tights underneath and a sweater over the whole mess. How rude… it was summer! She should be traipsing around in bikini tops and short shorts. He looked forward to the eye candy every year. “Yeesh, babes. Who died?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and turned her back on him. “No death, just something I didn’t want you or my parents seeing… yet…” Yet? Seeing? What happened? He immediately took the defensive, standing up straight against the glass. “What? What happened, kitten? You get hurt or somthin’? Point me in the right direction, I’ll kill who I gotta…”

She scoffed and shook her head. “That won’t be necessary… I’m fine. It’s just a surprise....”

He lifted an eyebrow, squishing his face to the mirror. “A surprise? For me? Can’t wait babes… lemme out and I’ll unwrap it myself…” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly, making her laugh from where she watched him over her shoulder.

She shook her head, humming as though deep in thought. “You know… I think I’ll leave you there for a while. That way you can’t interrupt me.”

He growled softly, glaring at her playfully. “So ya finally admit to bein’ a tease?” She giggled. “I never said I wasn’t…” As if proving her point, she started to shed her layers, the sweater coming off first and being tossed carelessly to the side. He saw then that the high neckline belonged to a sleeveless dress, his first glimpse of her snowy skin making him smile. He could almost feel the soft, warm flesh under his fingers.

The tights went next, her skirt hiked up teasingly until it just covered her ass, her long legs revealed inch by inch. Despite her petite nature, she was nearly all legs, her torso short in comparison. He loved those legs… liked watching them move. Really liked having them wrapped around him.

He groaned from his place pressed up against the barrier keeping him from her. “Fuck, baby… if I’d known I was gonna get a peep show I’d have brought some ones.” She snorted and turned to look at him as she reached behind herself to undo her zipper. “You know you don’t have to pay me… I like showing off for you once in a while.” He smiled and leaned on an elbow, his bottom half slowly floating up until he was reclined in mid-air. “Well, I love watchin’ ya show off, so I guess that works out.”

She continued her little show, letting the top of the dress fall away and immediately turning away again, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Are you ready for your surprise?” He raised an eyebrow. “The show ain’t my surprise? Well, hell… hit me, Lyds.”

She took a deep steadying breath. “I… Should I let you out first?” He chuckled. “This is yer circus, babes. I’m just yer favorite clown.” She let out a breathy laugh and braced herself before turning to face him.

It took him a long moment to find the supposed gift. His eyes raked over her hungrily before finally settling on her right hip, where a newly-done tattoo stood in stark, black contrast to her alabaster skin. Whoever had done it had real skill. This wasn’t some back alley stick and poke job. She must have actually gone to a shop to have it done…

In scrolling black font, it stated the facts quite plainly: Property of BJ. A red rose bloomed behind the words, the veins of the leaves so realistic that it seemed to grow directly from her body. Property of BJ.

He was on his feet in an instant and pounding on the glass. “Let me out. Lemme out right now, Lydia… god damn. COME ON!” She blushed, taking a step back. “Do… so you like it?” He growled, a hungry sound that went straight to Lydia’s core. “Lemme out and I’ll show ya, kitten…” She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together to fight off the surge of arousal that his words caused. She’d put a lot of thought into this… She was going to college soon, and she didn’t want her husband doubting even a little bit how she felt.

She licked her lips. “Beetlejuice…” He grinned. “Yeeaaah?” “Beetlejuice…” He rubbed his hands together, ready to get them on that soft, embellished skin.

“Beetlejuice.”

Three things happened all at the same time. There was a crack of lighting overhead as Lydia was thrown backward onto the bed. Beetle cackled as he appeared above her, and the last shreds of Lydia’s clothing disappearing.

She gasped and instinctively put her arms over her head, ready for the ravishing that was sure to come from her little stunt. His hands raked down her sides, the fingers of one trailing over the tattoo curiously. It was raised slightly, scabbed over and still healing. The skin beneath the ink was still as soft as the rest of her, the words breaking up the pale pink expanse of her in an intoxicating way.

“Did it hurt?” She lifted her head to look at him and shrugged. “A little… not bad. The.. the machine buzzes.” She blushed, suddenly embarrassed by her answer. He smirked. “Oh? Ya get a little excited on the table, baby?” He slid the other hand between her legs and over her already-damp core hungrily.

Lydia’s back arched, her hips lifting up toward him deliciously at the first brush of his rough calluses over her. “Oh.. I… M-maybe.” It was adorable how quickly her confidence had left her. Once again, she was pliant and wanting beneath him, a soft whine leaving her throat.

“Naughty… my nasty, tattooed little punk.” He dropped his mouth onto her collarbone, groaning at the warm, delicate taste under his tongue. The serpentine appendage slid from his mouth and curled around her nipple, flicking over the end in a teasing motion. She gasped and moaned loudly, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. “B-Beej!” His finger quested deeper into her soft cunt, slipping down to brush over her entrance before coming back up to pull gently at her clit. “Yes, love? You need somethin’?” She whined and shoved at him. “Stop teasing and fuck me already…”

He chuckled. “Is that why ya did this? Ya know you don’t need stunts like this to make me fuck ya… you can just...ask…” Her eyes met his with an intensity that he wasn’t prepared for. He shirked back under the emotional gaze. “What?”

“BJ, I… I did it because I wanted a piece of you with me… when I have to leave Peaceful Pines…” He frowned softly. He didn’t like thinking about how little time they had left. “Babes… Ya know I’m gonna come with ya… we’re gonna figure it out.” She ran her hands up his neck and through his tangled blond hair, nodding.. “I… I know, but… if we can’t…”

He’d had enough of this conversation. He slid a thick digit into her, curling it against the place just behind her clit that he knew drove her wild. Like taking a cue, a choked gasp left her and her hips jerked against his hand, her eyes going wide. He chuckled. “Enough, baby… we’re gonna make it work. I promise.”

He snapped and his suit vanished, leaving them both completely bare. His sweet bride reached for him again easily, pulling him into her to press their lips together in a firm kiss. He leaned into it gladly, his finger rocking in and out of her gently, just to keep her on edge.

She could feel him hard against her hip, his cock pressed straight against the brand she’d put onto herself. The cold of his skin was a comfort to the burning itch that had set in as the tattoo healed, making her press further into the soothing sensation. He, of course, took this as an invitation and hauled her up halfway into his lap, her shoulder blades still pressed into the mattress.

“God, yer so beautiful… I’m a lucky bastard…” She giggled under him, lifting her hips so his erection was forced to slide over her heat gently. “You really are… wonder what you did to deserve me…” He snorted and landed a firm slap to her thigh. “Little brat…”

“Your little brat.”

“True…”

He grinned and pushed her legs open, rising on his knees as he bent her upside down to rock more firmly against her. “Says so right there.” The head of his cock fumbled against her and pressed against her entrance, making her jump. “Oops. Guess that’s a sign, huh?”

She grinned and nodded, reaching over her head to brace her fingers against the headboard. If sex with Beetlejuice had taught her anything, it was how to prepare herself for an attack.

He pushed into her in a single thrust, grunting like the old man he was as his balls pressed into her ass, the tight- warm-wet of her knocking his consciousness aside for a moment as he adjusted. His wife was panting under him, her chest rising and falling in that enchanting way that it did. He could remember when she was younger, laying on the other side of the mirror just to watch her breathe in her sleep.

He bent over her to kiss her tenderly. “I love ya, baby… so much. I promise we can make it work.” Tears came to her eyes as he started to thrust into her, the looming doubt of the future making her heart ache in her chest. She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak the words aloud in return.

The romp was doomed to be a short one, the tensions both emotional and sexual looming too close over their heads. Minutes after it began, it was ending. Beetlejuice pulled himself free of her, stroking his cock with one large hand while the other rubbed furiously over her clit. “Come on... Come on, baby… come for me.” She whimpered and arched against him, her hip bumping against his hand making her moan both in pleasure and pain. In moments she was tensing, her back leaving the bed as she sat up, her hands gripping his wrist tightly as she rode out the orgasm he’d forced her into.

He was moments behind her, his release spattering onto her skin and over the tattoo, marking her in more ways than one. He huffed and puffed as he came down, taking deep and unnecessary breaths. “Fuck…”

She laughed breathlessly and nodded. “Agreed… Love you, Beej.” He kissed her soundly, lowering her back into the bed. “I love ya too, Lyds. More’n anything.”

She smiled and made to roll out of bed, stopped by his heavy weight behind her and one large arm slung across her waist. “B… I need to clean up…My tattoo could get infected, you know.” He pressed his lips behind her ear, his fingers trailing through his cum against her hip.

“Oh, Lyds...Ya didn’t think we were done… did ya?”

#beetlebabes #beetlejuice #beetlelyds #beetlejuice movie #beetlejuice fanfiction

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branlovestowrite · 5 years

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The Decoy Groom (2/5): A CS Fanfic

This is my CS AU loosely (very loosely) based on the movie The Decoy Bride (starring Kelly MacDonald and David Tennant; it’s super cute and highly recommended). Brennan Jones is in this story, and, as it’s a no-magic AU, Tim Omundson will be playing that role.

Title: The Decoy Groom

Rating: M for language and some suggestive scenes in future installments

Summary: After a failed turn as a musician in Los Angeles, Killian Jones has returned to his home: Storybrooke Island, a remote, tiny island off the coast of Maine. Emma Swan is a famous actress that just wants one day out of the spotlight so she can get married. Storybrooke Island, just two miles long and accessible only by ferry, seems like the answer to her prayers. But will she really be able to keep her nuptials a private affair? And can Killian find the solace he craves when there’s a world-famous actress in town?

Need to catch up? Ch1 Also on AO3

The next morning Killian walked to Granny’s for breakfast, as was his usual routine. In his short time back on the island, he’d learned that if he didn’t keep himself busy, he would go stir crazy just sitting around the house. He supposed he’d need to see if Will’s boat was taking on new guys so he’d at least have some employment.

After entering the diner and taking his usual seat, he was waited on by Granny herself, who poured him a coffee while scrutinizing him with a raised brow.

“Is there something amiss with my appearance?” he finally asked after he could no longer take her glare.

“Something happened with those visitors upstairs,” she replied, her voice low.

“How do you mean?”

“Well… you know I don’t like to gossip…”

“Naturally,” Killian responded with a smirk. One of Granny’s favorite pastimes was gossiping about the tourists. She hated when autumn came because the tourist population dwindled and she had less fodder for discussion.

“There was some big shouting match last night, and later someone caught a chopper ride back to the mainland.”

“So they’re gone then?”

She shook her head. “No one’s checked out yet. Whoever left wasn’t the girl who rented the rooms. But,” she said with a sigh, “I guess we’ll have to wait to see who’s still here. Sun’s hardly out. They’re probably not awake.”

This new information piqued Killian’s interest. He couldn’t help but look up more information on Emma Swan the night before. The more he learned about her fiancé, the less he liked her choice. Walsh Ozman was a slimy Hollywood producer who appeared to treat everyone with disdain. Killian could not understand why Emma Swan, who, according to her former castmates, was a genuinely nice person, would choose to marry a jerk like Ozman. The news that there’d been a fight last night made him think that maybe she’d finally realized he was no good for her.

He shook his head at his fanciful notions. It wasn’t like she would be interested in himself. He’d admired Emma Swan’s work in the past, and couldn’t help but want to know her after the things he’d read about her the night before. But, in all likelihood, she would be leaving the island later today, never interacting with him again.

Granny headed back to kitchen, preparing him a breakfast that he’d never actually ordered, and he took advantage of the quiet to scroll through the news on his phone. He was distracted from his reading a few minutes later by the jingle of the bell over the door. A squirrely looking man walked in, with tanned skin, close-cropped curly hair, and a beard to match. The color was more gray than the black it had likely been in his youth.

He met Killian’s eye and smiled. “Hello, I’m looking for the proprietor of this establishment.”

“You found her,” Granny said from the doorway of the kitchen. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you might have a room available for rent.”

“Sorry, we are all booked up, but try back again later today. I have a feeling something might open up.”

“Thank you,” the man replied. “Let me give you my card. If you find yourself with a vacancy, I would appreciate a call.”

Granny took the card and pocketed it without looking at it. “If you want to sit down I can bring you some coffee and make you something to eat. None of the other restaurants on the island are open at this hour.”

“Thank you madam,” the man said, taking a seat at the booth directly adjacent to Killian’s. He sat with his back to the door, effectively facing the other man with only the barrier of a bench seat between them.

Granny returned to the kitchen, and, as Killian suspected he would, the other man began speaking to him.

“Do you happen to know anything about the patrons currently staying here?”

“Even if I did,” Killian responded, “I doubt Mrs. Lucas would appreciate me discussing them with someone else.”

The other man stood and joined Killian in his booth. “Forgive my impertinence. My name is Sidney Glass, and I’m a freelance journalist. I received a tip that there may be someone of interest currently staying on the island. I could pay handsomely for any information that might help me find who I’m looking for.”

Killian stared at the other man. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like some solace while I drink my coffee.”

Effectively dismissed, Sidney Glass stood. “Please make my apologies to Mrs. Lucas. I’ve just remembered a previous engagement.” He left the diner, and Killian had to fight back to urge to run upstairs and warn the lovely lady Swan that the press had somehow found her here.

Laying in her bed, Emma sank deeper into the pillow and groaned. She’d cried so much the night before. She was mad at Walsh, of course, for cheating on her. And at herself for being so blind. And at Zelena for sleeping with a man she knew was engaged to another woman. And herself for being so blind. She had spent the whole night crying and drinking the champagne that was supposed to be for her post-wedding toast.

Elsa had been by her side for most of the evening. Emma was so grateful to have her friend here. Elsa was technically her manager, but over the years they’d worked together, their relationship had evolved to be so much more. Elsa was like a sister to Emma. As terrible as she felt this morning, she would be much worse off if she hadn’t had her friend with her.

A few minutes earlier, Elsa had offered to go downstairs and fetch some coffee before they started making plans for their next steps. Emma sat up slowly, longing for the caffeine that would help her feel more normal.

A knock came at the door and, before Emma could get out of bed, Elsa stepped inside the room. “That was fast,” Emma remarked. She then caught sight of her friend’s empty hands and sighed in realization. “Because you didn’t actually get it. Where’s the coffee?”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said as she closed the door. “I went downstairs to get it, but Sidney Glass was down there!”

Emma paled. “Shit! What the hell is he doing here?! Did he see you? Could he be here for another reason?”

“No, he didn’t see me. I don’t think he’s here for another reason. The cute guy from yesterday was down there, and Sidney asked him for information on the people who were staying here.”

“Cute guy from yesterday?”

“Yes, Emma,” Elsa replied with an annoyed look. “You know. The one with the dark hair and blue eyes. We met him outside before we checked in.”

“Oh yeah. Did he give anything away to Glass?”

“Thankfully no. But you know Sidney! He won’t give up so easily. Short of confining ourselves to this room, I don’t know how we’re going to escape him.”

“That might not even work," Emma said with a sigh. "If he gets wind that there was a helicopter departure yesterday, he might talk to the pilot and find out Walsh was the passenger.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh hell. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Elsa replied, looking defeated.

“I’ll get massacred by the press if they get wind of the breakup this way.”

Her friend stared at her disbelievingly. “Wait, you want them to think you and Walsh are still together?”

“On principle, no. Walsh is a slimy son of a bitch and I don’t want my name associated with him any longer than it has to be. But in practice, I don’t have much of a choice until I can get back home. If the story leaks that we broke up and then I come out two weeks later saying he’s a misogynistic asshole, I just look like a jealous ex.”

“I hate to be Debbie Downer, but what’s to stop Walsh from doing that now? He’s most likely back in LA today.”

“He’ll want to time to spin it.” Emma paced the small length of the room. “Fuck…”

“What if…” Elsa began, but stopped herself short, snapping her mouth closed.

Emma gave her a curious look. “No, go on. Any idea will help brainstorm.”

Elsa stepped closer to her friend and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let me get through this before you interrupt.” She took a deep breath and walked the same path Emma had a moment before. “What if we beat Sidney at his own game? Let him think there was a wedding today. He publishes it, but then when the breakup comes out next week, he ends up getting discredited.”

Emma looked at her friend with a furrowed brow. “How would we do that?”

“We stage the wedding with a decoy groom. Sidney thinks we don’t know he’s here, so he’s going to try and get pictures surreptitiously. He knows how much you want to keep the press out, so he’s going to try and be sneaky. We make sure he only gets photos from the back. We keep your veil on the entire ceremony so it’s not entirely clear that you’re in the pictures. Worst case, he goes to press with inconclusive photos.”

“Who would we get to be the decoy groom? There’s only 60 people on this island, and the average age is 50. I doubt we’ll find anyone who looks like Walsh, even from behind.”

“We’ve already found him! The cute guy. He’s about the same height as Walsh. He’s got dark hair. I brought my shears with me. I can cut his hair to look like Walsh’s. He doesn’t have to be an exact match. Just enough to make Sidney think it’s legit. Once Sidney thinks he has his story, he’ll leave the island.”

“I don’t know…” Emma replied. “Maybe we’d be better to just stay in the room today.”

“And what about tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that? Sidney Glass hid out in the attic of Regina Mills’ pool house for six weeks to get pictures of her when she was having an affair with Graham Humbert! He doesn’t give up easy.”

“You make a good point.” Emma sat down on the edge of the bed in a huff. “Is cute guy still downstairs?”

Elsa smiled in triumph. “I’ll go see.”

“Bring back coffee,” Emma said before her friend left the room entirely.

Killian was just finishing his eggs with he noticed an attractive blonde woman approaching from his left. Not the blonde he’d secretly been hoping to see, but her companion.

He looked up and met her steely blue eyes. “May I help you?”

“Do you mind if I sit?” she asked, her tone business-like.

“By all means.” He gestured to the bench seat on the opposite side of his booth.

She took a seat and extended her hand across the table. “Elsa Frost.”

“Killian Jones,” he replied, taking her hand in his.

“I’ll get down to business, Mr. Jones. I represent a client that I’d rather not name in public, although I suspect you may be aware of who she is.”

“I had an inkling…” He was intrigued by what this woman could want.

“My client has a request of a somewhat… unusual nature. I was hoping you could join us for a cup of coffee upstairs to discuss in a more private setting.”

Killian sat back and stared for a short moment, pretending the think on the idea. He held out just long enough to temper his excitement about a chance to meet Emma Swan in person. Leaning forward once more, he smiled and said “How can I say no to that?” Standing, he walked to the bar, stepped around the counter, took out three paper cups, and filled them from the carafe. “Do either you or your client take cream and sugar?”

Five minutes later, Killian stood alone in one of the rooms in the Inn, waiting on Elsa to retrieve her client. Part of him could not believe he would be face-to-face with Emma Swan in a matter of minutes. It all seemed so surreal. To calm himself, he stared out the window of the room and watched the seals play on a rocky outcropping. It had been a long time since he’d just watched the seals, and he quickly became mesmerized. He did not realize the two women had entered the room until Elsa cleared her throat.

He turned and faced Emma Swan, his heart immediately breaking for her. Her red-rimmed eyes indicated she’d been crying recently. Her beautiful blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she wore a baggy cream-colored sweater with leggings and thick socks. However, even with her casual attire and tired appearance, he found her more beautiful than the publicity photos he’d been looking through the night before.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment longer before Emma extended her hand. “Mr. Jones, thank you for speaking with us. I’m Emma Swan.”

He took her hand and shook it dazedly. “Of course, Miss Swan. It’s a pleasure…” he trailed off.

“So…” Emma began, seemingly just as much at a loss for words as he was. “The reason…”

Before the situation could become more uncomfortable, Elsa jumped in. “Emma came to the island to get married, but her fiancé had to leave due to an emergency. However, we don’t want the press to know he is gone. Surely you’ve heard of the struggles Emma has had with the press?”

“I have,” he replied.

“And I think you are aware that there is a journalist currently on the island, looking for information about this very situation?”

“I am.”

“We have a proposition for you. We would like Mr. Glass to leave this island thinking he has photographs of a wedding between Ms. Swan and Walsh Ozman. As Walsh is not here, we are in need of a stand-in.”

“A stand-in?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t look like Walsh Ozman.”

“Not from the front, no. But with a little trim of your hair, I can make you look like him from behind. And that’s all we need.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“You look to be the same size as Walsh, and I have the wedding clothes with me in a separate bag. I can do some minor alterations.”

“I’m still not sure about this…” Killian said, feeling his right hand fly up to scratch behind his ear, his old nervous tick.

“This was a stupid idea,” Emma suddenly said. “Let’s just give it up, Elsa. Let Sidney run a story about how Emma Swan can’t keep a man. It’s not like they’ve never said that before.”

Killian felt anger flare in his chest at her defeated tone. “Now hold on, lass, I didn’t say ‘no.’” Her head snapped up and she met his gaze for the first time that morning. “I’m willing to help.”

“What do you want in exchange?” Emma said, her eyes narrowed.

“It would be bad form to require something for helping out a lady in distress.”

“Bad form? Lady in distress? Where are you from? The nineteenth century?”

“No, I simply possess a broad vocabulary and enjoy using it,” he replied, a bit put out by her comment.

“Nevertheless,” Elsa interjected, “you will be compensated for your time. And for signing a standard Non-Disclosure Agreement stating that you will not share the particulars of this situation with anyone without first obtaining mine or Miss Swan’s express permission.”

“I’ll sign an NDA if it makes you feel better, but I have no intention of telling anyone.”

“We’ll take that in writing. Please stay here. I’m going to return to my room and pull up an agreement on my laptop. Are you comfortable with providing an electronic signature? Otherwise I will need to see if Mrs. Lucas has a printer I can use.”

“Electronic is fine.”

“Great. Why don’t you and Emma stay here and get acquainted while I take care of that?”

Elsa exited the room and Emma looked at him nervously. Killian groaned quietly to himself. What the hell was he getting into?

Emma looked up at the attractive, blue-eyed stranger before her. Standing even closer to him now, she noticed his broad chest and muscular arms. As her eye traveled down his arm to observe his strong, elegant hands, she felt a jolt of lust. Her traitorous mind couldn’t help but think about how it would feel to have those hands slide down her back or dig into her thigh as he…

Killian cleared his throat and looked at her with one eyebrow raised and she realized she was biting her lip whilst staring at his hands. She blushed and shook her head to clear her dazed mind. What was this strong attraction she felt to him? She’d noticed it first yesterday, but in the wake of Walsh’s betrayal, it was as if her carnal mind wanted to bed someone else in retaliation.

“So,” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and hugging herself tightly, “do you live on this island?”

“Aye, though I only just returned after living in L.A. for five years.”

“Really? What were you doing there?”

“Trying and failing to make it big as a musician.”

“What do you play?”

“Guitar.”

“Are you any good?”

“I think so.”

“Then why was it a failed endeavor?”

“A combination of things. Some of my bandmates were less than cooperative. And we had some creative differences. And it is a rather difficult business to make it big in. I think we just didn’t get our big break, and I tired of the struggle.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it would still have been a struggle if you had ‘made it big.’ Take it from me, fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Do you mind me asking why you were so against the press at your wedding? Seems like you made the problem worse for yourself by fighting against them.”

“You’re probably right,” Emma sighed. She moved over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. “When I was a kid, I was a big nobody. A foster kid who jumped from home to home and never had a family of her own. Then, when I was fifteen, I got a foster mother who wanted to be a stage mom, and she took me to every audition she possibly could. I found out that I was good at acting. For the first time in my life, I had something that made me unique, you know?”

“Yeah,” he replied in a near whisper. She looked up at him to see an earnest stare. He seemed truly mournful for the child she’d been.

She sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “So, I got a part in a TV show, and that was my big break. But Victoria, that was my foster mom, she pocketed all the money I was making. And she was greedy, selling me out for appearances or ‘exclusive’ interviews. The press fed off of it. And I rebelled, which only made them chase me more. By the time I was seventeen, I couldn’t go anywhere without being hounded by them. And, to add to my trouble, I was flat broke because Victoria wouldn’t give me any of the money I made. It was ridiculous. I was making more money than I’d ever dreamed I could, but I still had to steal tampons from the drug store.”

“And then you got caught,” Killian filled in.

“Yeah… I got arrested for shoplifting. But, the silver lining to that is that I met my lawyer, David Nolan, and he helped me file for emancipation and sue Victoria for the money she was keeping from me.”

“Did you get it back?”

“Not a penny. She’d spent most of it as fast as I made it. At least, since I was emancipated, I was able to keep what I made going forward. But by then I had a reputation with the press, and they expected me to be a bad girl. Every move I made was scrutinized. And I’ve never been able to shake that, even now, ten years later. I just wanted to have one day where they weren’t judging my every move. Where I could just be myself.”

“That makes perfect sense.” Emma looked up at him again, and found nothing more than understanding in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “for… getting it.”

“Well, my story is different, but we have some of the same themes.”

“Yeah? What’s your story?”

“Well,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was born in England, and for a few years it was nice. Mum and Dad and my older brother Liam. Then Mum got sick, and she passed before I was five.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waved his dismissively. “Thank you, but it was a long time ago. What hurt more was that not long after that, Dad abandoned Liam and I. He was part of a auto theft ring, and when one of his partners was caught, he ran to avoid getting arrested himself. Just up and left us one night.”

“What did you do?”

“We went to live with a distant relative. Uncle John never had any kids of his own and I believe he rather resented us. He left us to fend for ourselves quite often. Then, just as I was entering secondary school, John was contacted by our father. He’d cleared his name and was living in the States and wanted us to join him. John shipped us off on the first flight to Boston and we haven’t seen him since. When we arrived, we learned Dad had remarried and was living here on the island with his wife and their son, William.”

“Isn’t that…”

“The anglicized form of Liam? Aye. Believe me, my brother and I were right pissed off at Brennan Jones for essentially trying to replace us. But we eventually came around. Not for him, but for Will and his mother, Angie.”

“Are they still here?”

“Liam moved back home a few years back, but Dad and Will are still here.”

“Angie…?”

“Died last year.”

“Damn. Your dad’s a widow twice over? That’s fucked up.”

“The old man’s cursed.”

“So why did you come back here? Why not join your older brother?”

“Dad hasn’t been the same since Angie died. And Will works on a fishing boat and has a young wife and a child on the way, so he can’t be around as much.”

“So you came back to care for the dad that abandoned you when you were little?”

“He’s a right bastard, but he’s still my Dad.”

“You’re a good man, Killian Jones.”

“I hope so,” he replied, his eyes glassy.

Thirty minutes later Killian stood in a room with Elsa, wearing the suit Walsh Ozman was meant to wear at his wedding. He was still struggling with the idea that he would be spending the day pretending to marry Emma Swan.

“This fit isn’t too bad,” Killian said, tugging the sleeves of the jacket down. Although he and Walsh were roughly the same height, his limbs seemed to be longer than those of the other man’s.

“I think I need to take the hems out an inch on the jacket and pants, then you should be good,” Elsa said. “I wonder if Mrs. Lucas has a sewing machine I can use. It’d be much easier if I didn’t have to do this by hand.”

“I believe she does, but truly, you needn’t go to the effort. Who’s going to notice if the suit is slightly ill-fitting?”

“It has to fit you like a glove,” Elsa replied. “Sidney isn’t going to buy the story if there’s any indication that you aren’t Walsh, and Walsh would never wear an ill-fitting suit, no matter how slight the problem.” She stepped back and took him in. “Thank god I kept the suit with me instead of letting him pack it,” she muttered to herself. Looking up to his face again she smiled. “Go ahead and change out of it while I run down to see if I can borrow the sewing machine.”

She was out the door before Killian could say a word. He removed the suit and once more donned his jeans and henley. As he laid the garments back on the bed, marveling at the expense of them, he heard a knock at the door.

He surmised the visitor must be Emma, since Elsa would have charged into the room after a perfunctory knock. However, when he opened the door, he was met with the face of a smaller man with red curly hair, wearing a very ill-fitting suit and thick glasses. “Can I help you?” Killian asked.

“Hello, yes, sir. My name is Archie Hopper, and I’ll be the officiant for the ceremony today. I need you to fill out some paperwork.” He handed Killian a small stack of paperwork.

Killian held his hands up and refused to take the documents. “I’m not sure that’s necessary…” he trailed off.

“Don’t worry. Mrs. Frost explained everything to me. This is just a formality.” He pushed the documents in the other man’s direction once more

“Are you sure?” Killian replied, reluctantly taking the pages and thumbing through them.

“Indeed,” Hopper responded. “We want this to be convincing, do we not?” The man leaned forward and winked, the gesture oddly magnified by his eyewear.

“Erm… yes.” Killian moved to the desk in the room and took up a pen, beginning to fill out the forms.

“I’ll need to see your ID as well,” Hopper said.

“Sure.” Absently, Killian fished his wallet out of his back pocket and extracted his license. It was still his California ID. He hadn’t yet obtained a new Maine driver’s license. He handed the card to the other man.

Hopper took a picture of the front and back of Killian’s ID and placed the card on the desk while Killian continued to complete the documents. He was done a moment later, and Hopper gathered everything up and turned to leave. The door opened just as he approached it and Elsa entered.

“Mr. Hopper. Is everything in order?”

“Oh yes, Miss Frost. Quite so. I was just speaking with our groom for a moment before the ceremony.” He said groom in a slightly mocking tone, and Elsa gave him a tight smile in reply.

“Remember the agreement you signed, Mr. Hopper,” she said in a commanding voice.

“Of course, Miss Frost. I’ll just head down to the church now and meet you there later today.”

“Thank you. And, if you would be so kind, the photographer is also downstairs in the common room. If you could point him in the direction of the church, I will be very appreciative.”

“I’ll do you one better and walk with him,” Hopper said with a silly smile.

“Thank you Mr. Hopper. I’ll see you at the church.”

Hopper thankfully knew a dismissal when he saw one, and left the room. Elsa turned back to Killian, donning a pair of shears. “Alright Mr. Jones, are you ready for your haircut?”

Emma walked down the aisle of the picturesque church. She took her place next to a tall man with dark hair who, after Elsa’s intervention, looked so much like Walsh from behind that Emma had been momentarily fooled into thinking that the last 18 hours had been a bad dream. Which of course made her feel like crying all over again. The only thing holding her tears at bay was her fear of ruining the beautiful makeup Elsa had applied an hour earlier. This was supposed to be her perfect, private, wedding that she could share with the people who meant the most to her. Instead she was play acting with a stranger. She felt incredibly grateful that they’d decided to keep the veil over her face, thereby masking her expression of pain.

“Shall we proceed with the ceremony?” the kind man named Mr. Hopper asked, looking to Elsa. This was Emma’s first time meeting the man, and she found his sweet disposition calming.

“Yes,” Elsa replied curtly. She’d ensured Emma that, after a thorough search, there were no bugs in the church, but just to be sure, they’d decided that they would play out the ceremony as realistically as possible. As far as the walls of the building were concerned, Emma Swan and Walsh Ozman were being married that day. Still, Emma kept her eye on her friend as she paced the perimeter of the small room, keeping an eye out for Sidney.

The church was beautiful, with stone arches, an intricate wooden ceiling, and lovely stained-glass windows. The structure of the room worked to their advantage, as the ceremony took place up front, in the chancel, which was cut off from the rest of the room. The triptych of stained-glass windows behind the altar, while allowing plenty of light into the room, were impossible to see through. There was absolutely no way a person could get a picture of their faces without being in the room with them.

Speaking of which, the photographer they’d hired stepped gracefully around them, quietly snapping pictures. Emma had wanted to turn him away, but Elsa had felt it would be better to proceed as planned with him, so that there was one less person in on the secret. She had told the man that the couple was extremely private and did not want any close up shots, and that there should be no pictures taken of the kiss.

Emma disagreed with her friend on that point, but the entire plan made her so nervous that she was ready to agree to anything just to get through the day. She only needed to get through a few more minutes, and then hopefully Sidney would get his picture and Emma could return to her room to hide out in peace.

They’d just been declared man and wife when everything went to hell. A sound of breaking glass came from behind them, and a man awkwardly fell through a panel of one of the other windows along the side of the building. Everyone looked over their shoulders to see the face of Sidney Glass trying extract himself from an awkward, and likely painful, position.

Elsa immediately stepped into action, yelling out “what the hell?!” as loud as she could while crossing the room toward the man. Emma noticed that Killian was still looking at the man and nearly about to turn around and go help him. Her internal alarm bells screamed as images of Sidney discovering the whole story and using it to destroy what remained of her reputation flashed through her head.

Roughly she grabbed Killian’s arm, still wearing her veil, and pulled him toward a door off to the side of the chancel.

“What are you doing?” he protested. “That man’s bleeding! He needs help!”

“That’s Sidney Glass, and he deserves to bleed!” she hissed as she yanked open a door and shoved Killian inside before following him in. It took a few tries to get the door to close because the damned lace train, which had seemed so sensible when she purchased her dress, was now getting stuck in the door jamb. She finally extracted her skirts and pulled hard to close the door behind her. Her body immediately collided with Killian’s. She had a momentary lapse in judgment, where she couldn’t think about anything other than how firm his chest felt and how good he smelled. But then she came to her senses and whirled around.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered. “Back up and give me a little space!”

“Sorry to say, love, but there isn’t any space to give you.” He reached above his head and pulled a cord that was connected to a single light bulb. When the dim light flooded the area, she realized what he meant. She’d thought they were going into a hallway, or at least an office, but it turned out that they stood pressed tightly together in a cleaning closet.

“Oh fuck,” Emma cursed.

“Oh fuck indeed,” Killian echoed.

Thanks to all those who liked and reblogged last week! I tried to add everyone who reblogged to the tag list, but Tumblr’s giving me trouble.

@artistic-writer @bubblegum1425 @captainkillianswanjones @fairytaleprincessatlast @flslp87 @gingerchangeling @hollyethecurious @hookswan25 @initiala @jonirobinson64 @kday426 @kingofmyheart14 @kmomof4 @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @nerdyhuntress @nikkiemms @objectsatsleepstayatsleep @princesseslikepirates @resident-of-storybrooke @searchingwardrobes @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @snowbellewells @teamhook @thejacketandthehook @thejollyroger-writer @thislassishooked @welllpthisishappening @winterbythesea @winterbaby89 @wingedlioness @withheartfulloflove @wyntereyez

#cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #captain swan #captain swan au #the decoy groom #branwrites

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my-muses-in-op · 5 years

Text

Izo and Ace

Ace quickly noticed how diverse the Whitebeard Pirates were, from Fishman to Devil’s Fruit user, to people with a big ego, but also a big heart. Among all the different people were one that stood out the most to him. The commander of the 16th division, Izo. Never had Ace seen a male look so feminie and gracious, while also completely comfortable in whothey were. Sure, Izo could be scary, the man was sadistic, but Ace was still fascniated by him.

Not that he showed it at first. No, his goal was to take the head of Whitebeard and he was stubborn. It took a few months before he slowly realized that taking Whitebeard’s head would do him no good. So after his talk with Marco, Ace had finally accepted that he belonged on the Moby Dick.

It tok a while, but soon he was comfortable in the role of one of the youngest crew member. He also became one of the pranksters and was often compared with Haruta and Thatch, the two master pranksters. To Ace, pranking was all about hearing the laughter of his family, it was addictive to him. Happiness was something that was his guilty pleasure.

Even so, he kept finding himself wondering about Izo. The man was not an open book, but it wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk. Ace often saw him talking with Thatch, Haruta and Marco, which led him to conclude that the three of them were good friends of Izo. Those three also happened tobeAce’s best friends here, so it would be natural if Ace became friends with Izo.

Having decided, Ace walked to the room of the 16th division commander. He would at least give it a try and so far he had have no problem in talking with Izo. They were on good terms and all, but there was still a barrier between them, which kept Ace from calling Izo a friend.

“Come in.” The deep voice of Izo sounded through the door, as Ace had knocked. The teen entered the room and was taken aback on how big it seemed and small at the same time. Besides the fact that Ace had never seen a room like this, with a dressing table, filled with make-up and perfume, a bed with fluffy pillows and a soft blanket. There were also a huge closet, a mirror on it and next to it, shelves with shoes. Next to the dressing table, was a moveable wall. In the middle of the room was a small table, surrounded by pillows,on one Izo was seated.

“Hello Ace. What can I do for you today?” Izo asked, while gesturing Ace to come and sit with him. Closing the door behind him, Ace went to Izo, took off his boots and sat across the commander. He smiled his bright signature smile, making Izo give him a soft one back.

“I was hoping to get to know you a little better.” Ace scratched the back of his head, not knowing how else to tell the other why he sought him out. Izo eyed him, while sipping on some tea.

A soft chuckled let him, as Izo placed the cup down. “Is that so? Well,why don’t we just chat and telleach other a few things about ourself?” Izo suggested. “Do you want a cupof tea?”

Ace had been prepared that Izo also woud like to know something about him, so he nodded at the suggestion. “Yes please.” Ace answered to the last question and Izo poured some for him. Normally Ace didn’t drink much tea, but sometimes he did. Mostly out of politeness,but also because it was far better tasting than coffee was.

“Thank you.” Ace smiled, as Izo handed him the cup. Izo raised a brow. Sure, he’d noticed Ace was polite, but to actually experiencee it like this was different. Izo had not expected such politeness from a pirate at all and he was curious to know who had taught Ace to be polite and why. They knew by now that Ace had been raised - more or less - by mountain bandits, so his politeness didn’t make sense.

“You’re welcome. Say Ace, where and why did you learn manners? I haven’t come across many pirates with manners and not even to your level.” Izo was way too curious about it.

Ace grinned slight embarrassed. “Well, a woman named Makino taught me, after I asked her. She is the kindest person on earth and her patience with me was also what helped on my temper. She owns a bar in a villae on the island I grew up on.” He smiled fondly at the memory of Makino and all she had done for them. “You see, there was a certain person I needed to thank and I wanted to do it right and respectfully. Somehow the politeness stuck.”

Izo smiled. It was a cute story and he liked that Ace had actually asked for these lessons himself. that showed character. “And did you manage to thank that person?”

“I did.” Ace didn’t want to tell right now that he was on good terms with Shanks, a rival to Whitebeard. “I’ve heard that manners are important to you. How come?” It was now Ace’s time to get answers that popped into his mind.

Izo took anoher sip ofhis tea, before answering. “I grew up with being taught manners and proper behavior, so it’s partly a trauma from my childhood. However, I also belive that you get more with being polite than rude. Even towards animals. It’s why I think it’simportant to have manners. It’s also a way to be humble and some people really need to learn how to be humble.”

Ace nodded. He’d noticed that he got far more when being polite, than being rude. It hadn’t occured to him that others had learned it while growing upand it was a natural thing for them to do. “Wait trauma?” Ace blinked, as the words had fully settled.

“You think you’re the only one on this ship with childhood trauma?” Izo teased him. “Manners were beaten into me. That’s why it’s a trauma.” He explained, without going deeper into it. Ace hummed at that. They talked more about things, like the life on the Moby Dick, how Izo joined and why. Ace told about how he recruited his crew and their adventures.

Ace really enjoyed himself, having gotten two cups of tea and only once fallen asleep. He liked Izo. It didn’t matter that Ace had a feeling that some things shared here, could be used against him later. However, he hadn’t touched the question that burned in his mind.

“There’s something about you that makes me wonder...” Ace started. Izo hummed as to tell Ace to continune and so he did. “It’s about your appearance. You aren’t dressing like a pirate or man, you even use make-up and while you look handsome and graceful, I can’t understand how you can do it, without feeling like it’s wrong. I’m not saying it’s wrong, but it’s not how men usual dresses, so ...” He wanted to make sure that Izo knew there was nothing wrong with the way he dressed, but also make Izo understand that Ace felt like it should cause insecurity.

Izo chuckled lightly. “It wasn’t always easy, Ace. However, this is me, this is how I feel the most comfortable and when I started to show and believe it, everyone around me just accpeted it. Sure, I’ve been teased about it, but I’ve talked with Oyaji and Marco about how I felt about it and they encouraged me to go on and also made sure to give me positive feedback. When others heard and saw that Oyaji and Marco accepted me as I was, so did they.”

Ace listened with interest. So both Whitebeard and Marco had helped Izo through the rough start of showing people who he was? That was a nice thought and it eased some of the fears Ace still harbored.

The rest of the evening both talked about everythign and nothing. Ace felt more relaxed around Izo and knew that he would consider Izo as a friend too. It was an odd feeling to him, but a good one. Befriending Izo was probably a good thing. Ace also knew that despite Izo having a reputation of using knowledge and secrets as blackmail, Ace could also trust Izo to never use things that made Ace uncomfortable on a deep personal level against him. Izo had indeed morals and honor.

#deadly flower (izo)#hotheaded brother (ace)#my fanfic #izo and ace #long post #my thoughts on how izo and ace got closer #and ace's feelings about izo being so different #and ace's thoughts on how izo could do it #also how izo gives ace comfort #without even knowing it #yet

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penkukatana · 3 years

Text

Pilot : A New Journey

Just a normal day at the academy, students were enjoying their recess to the fullest, embracing a loud and joyous atmosphere inside the voluminous dining hall. The Royal Academy of Magic and Science, also known as RAMS, is the one and only educational institute established in Oneiric Kingdom, where all the talented young prodigy of respective tribes were gathered under one roof to be equipped with all the essential knowledge and skill to later become the future leaders and warriors of the kingdom.

"Bong!"

The distinct sound of the old bell echoed across every corner of the iconic academic buildings, marking the end of the one-hour recess period given to the students. Gradually, the hall began to lose its noisy ambience as students had already finished their meal and slowly making their way out of the dining hall to continue the second half of their lesson schedule.

However, positioned at the very front row of the dining hall, a group of six female students still hadn’t move an inch from their position, not showing any sign of a rush in doing so as they kept goofing around with each other while munching on their meals.

Sakura : Oi Yena-ssi, can you speed up and finish your meal? It's time already!

Yena : Haha chill out, unnie. What's the rush for? It's not like the teachers gonna be on time anyway.

Sakura : Huh~ I know, but I got Combat class after this. You know what Sir Junho will do to the last person that enter his class, right?

The pure agitation on Sakura’s face sent Yena stifling into laughter.

Yena : Ahh, so that's why you’re freaking out right now. But... if you come to think of it, isn't it a good thing if you get to pair with him for the class? I mean, you get to experience getting your ass kicked by the great Sir Junho, the greatest ex-combatants of IZ-Land. And of course, learn from him at the same time.

Eunbi : But maybe less learning and more pain instead.

Minju : For real, though. Last time I had to pair with him for Combat class, I returned to dorm that day with bruises all over my back. I couldn't even sleep straight that night because of it.

Yujin : Haha seriously, unnie? I mean... no offense, but it's getting hard to trust your story these days since you always exaggerate. Even if I lightly tap your shoulder right now, you’ll say that I almost kill you, right?

The whole table burst into laughter from Yujin's honest comment, making the milky white face of the ice princess turned as red as the lipstick she wore on her lips.

“Don't you have class after this, Nako? You usually leave for class early since you need the front seat every time,” asked Eunbi jokingly.

“Ahh~ unnie! I told you not to mention about the front seat thing again. I'm much taller now compared to last year," said Nako while pouting her mouth. "And to answer your question, no, my Potions class was cancelled. Professor Yang have a meeting today.

"Ooh ooh, same goes for me. Both my History and Economics class after this were cancelled last minute because the professors are absent. I heard the other students said that they went for a meeting or something," added Yujin.

"Hmm...so, most professors are having the same emergency meeting today. I wonder what do they talk about.” said Eunbi.

The whole table went for a short moment of silent as each of the girls was trying to take a guess on the issue. Even Yena had paused from chewing the baked beans in her mouth just to try and give a thought about the topic. At the moment, only one of them seemed to not be giving a single hoot about the discussion while shaking her leg anxiously.

"Urgh~ screw it! I don’t want to have a broken neck by the end of today’s class, so I'm leaving," erupted Sakura, aggressively picking up her stuff from the table before rushing off towards the exit.

Suddenly, something bizarre happened. All the chairs and tables inside the dining hall somehow began to move by itself. Sakura who was only a feet away from the exit paused her steps in bewilderment as she realized that the entire ground was shaking.

"Y-Yah, what the hell is happening!?" questioned Yena in shock.

All the leftover of their meal spilled to the floor due to the strong-mild earthquake. The intense rumbling of ground also made the girls starting to lose their balance a bit.

"Guys, we need to get out of here! I think the building is going to collapse soon," yelled Eunbi.

The girls nodded to Eunbi's command. They grabbed onto each others' hand and ran towards the exit across the room. Sakura meanwhile still hadn’t move from where her standing, holding tightly to the door handle while waiting for her friends’ arrival to made their escape together.

"Guys, faster!" shouted Sakura from afar, holding tightly to the door handle.

As the ground kept shaking on high rate, the ceiling started to crack with debris pouring on them. Yujin who was on the run while nimbly avoiding the broken tiles, noticed a large pile of concrete about to come off from the ceiling, located precisely above Sakura's head.

"Kkura-unnie, move away from there!" shouted Yujin.

Unfortunately, Sakura couldn't heard her due to the deafening noise of the crumbling wall.

At this point, Yujin couldn't seem to ignore the warning. The concrete piece was only held by a single steel cable before it would completely fell on top of Sakura’s head .

Going by her full instinct, Yujin let go of Nako's hand and dashed forward with an amazing pace. Despite having stumbled a few times by the broken tiles, she was able to avoid as many concrete ceiling that were raining on them like a rocky snow.

However, just a few steps before she could finally reached Sakura, the steel cable holding the concrete had completely detached, causing it to free-fall to the ground by the natural law of gravity.

Running out of time and option, Yujin instantly channeled all her inner energy to channel her special ability. With her gifted ability, she launched herself 10 feet above the ground while effortlessly covering a 15 meter distance with full momentum to smash the concrete into pieces with her bare fist before she crash-landed onto the ground.

"Oh God, Yujin-ah! A-Are you okay? Let me help you up."

Sakura quickly helped Yujin to get back on her feet before they both making their way out of the dining room. After Eunbi, Yena, Nako and Minju also succeeded in making their escape from the dining hall, the girls worked their feet towards the dormitory as instructed by the announcement from the headmaster earlier.

******

As they were running across the bridge connecting the academic building and the dormitory, a loud thud intensified across the island, putting the girls on shock therefore pausing their steps after hearing it. What they saw next as they turned their head around was unbelievable with their eyes. Chills crawled over their spines and a jolt was sent across their body by the frightening scenery that lied upon them. A huge army of dark mages were raining the entire the kingdom with dark magic, creating almost like a spontaneous firework show as the attack collided with the transparent magical barrier that served as a first-line protector of the floating island.

"Shit...that doesn't look good," said Yena, stating the obvious.

"Oh no, we're so doomed now," added Minju, being a bit more paranoid as usuals.

"The dark magic is really strong that the impact when it collides with the barrier causes an earthquake to the whole island," explained Nako, looking terrified and amazed at the same time.

"How much longer can the barrier stands at this rate?" asked Yujin, mouth was half opened while observing the scale of mess they about to face.

Just as Yujin was saying, the barrier started to break little by little. The army of dark mages swamped into the loophole of the broken part of the barrier and later on, in the count of a few seconds on hand, the protective shield had completely teared down, leaving the kingdom with full vulnerability of an attack by the enemy. The dark mages led by their king, Lord Drakka, launched a full force attack toward the kingdom, creating explosions and chaos on every part of the island where local villagers and citizens were scattered all over the place to seek their safety.

With a huge advantage on the enemy’s hand by the surprise attack, a group of tyranny dark mages charged toward the academy and raided the school compound, creating a complete panic situation among the students. The professors along with the entirety of the academy's workforce were all doing the best in their capabilities to provide defense and ensuring the students' safety.

Meanwhile, the six girls remained still on the bridge, truly in awe and at the same time clueless of the steps they should be taking from there.

"Shit, they're coming at us," said Eunbi, stating the obvious.

"Unnie, what do we do now? There's no use for us to hide at the dorm anymore at this rate," asked Yujin.

"Hmm...I say we fight them," replied Eunbi.

"A-Are you serious, unnie? I mean...we're still not ready, we don't have full control of our power yet," said Minju, voice starting to tremble.

"Haha, are you scared, Minju? Don't worry, I'll burn them all for you," said Yena in confidence, lighting up a ball of flame on her right hand.

"Okay, listen. They are coming now and we can't only depend on the teachers to protect us. About what Minju said, I believe we already train long enough and this is the time to apply what we have learnt," briefed Eunbi. "As you guys can see, we are obviously outnumbered by them. So, our plan here is just to defend ourselves and watch each others' back, at least until the helps arrive."

After the short briefing by the oldest, all the girls had no choice but to gather their courage and stood their ground.

"We'll move by pair now. Yena, you'll go with Minju, Sakura with Yujin, and Nako with me. Remember, watch each other backs and don't split too far with your partner, in case anything bad happen, alright?" reminded Eunbi.

All of them nodded as they understood the clear strategy explained by Eunbi.

"Okay, let's go, Minju-yah!" shouted Yena in confidence.

Truth be told, Yena was also nervous like the friends alongside her, but she also felt excited as she got to test her ability in real fights situation. She started off by engulfing her entire body with flames and flew to the airspace before taking down a couple of enemy with the fireballs shot from her bare hands.

"U-Unnie, wait for me!" yelled Minju with her trembling voice.

For some reason, Minju still didn't move her feet from the bridge. Eunbi who also possessed psychic ability, use her power to read Minju's mind.

"Minju-yah, I know you're scared, but we have no choice now. You need to be confident with your power to be able to defense yourself. As far as I know, you are the best archer in the school, and you also get high mark in combat skills, so I think you are more than ready to fight these bastards. You just need to trust yourself. We can do this," said Eunbi softly, trying to lift up the girl’s spirit.

Minju wiped her eyes that was getting teary after being overly terrified a moment ago. Being the princess of Akua, she channeled her power to form a solid ice bow and arrows by simply freezing the air particle around her. With her forte weapon on hand, she then began to join the fight by shooting down enemies from the bridge, covering Yena’s blind spot in the hectic aerial war ground.

"Damn. Nice shot," praised Yena in awe after a dark mage she was battling with getting struck with an arrow right through its head by Minju.

"Focus, unnie!”

Meanwhile, Sakura and Yujin already moved to the school ground to help the teachers. Sir Junho who were busy fighting, suddenly noticed Yujin and Sakura presence.

"Yujin, Sakura! You aren't suppose to be out here now," said Sir Junho.

"We want to help, sir. We're confident that we can help you to defend the school," replied Yujin.

Sakura who was standing beside her silently nodded as she agreed with Yujin's statement.

Sir Junho was reluctant to allow them to fight, but after considering on how outnumbered they were, he agreed to the offer.

"Fine. In that case, here's the plan. Yujin, you'll cover the ground with me. Sakura, you'll take the aerial side," briefed Sir Junho.

"Got it, sir!" Yujin and Sakura answered simultaneously.

Yujin jumped into the fight straightaway and kicked the enemies’ asses with her tremendous superhuman strength, knocking down every dark mages around her.

Sakura on the other hand, was calmly channeling her energy. The sky began to turn dark above them as if a storm about to occur. Her feet was slowly floating above the ground while her eyes turning fully white, electric charge flowed all over her hand. Using her power, she stroke the dark mages with the blades of thunderstorms she casted from the sky.

On the other hand, Eunbi and Nako rushed to the dormitory to help the students that were trapped inside. The dormitory was on fire as the dark mages exploded the roof with their magic. Eunbi removed all the obstacles that blocking their way using her wind power. Some of the students were too scared to move, so Eunbi used her telekinesis ability to get inside their head and helped them escape.

As they proceed to the ground level, they encountered a group of dark mages moving in their direction. The mages started to attack them by throwing their magic shots.

Nako calmly concentrated her elemental power and strike her palms. A huge boulder emerged from the ground, acting as a shield to protect Nako and Eunbi from the strikes. Nako then stumped her feet, sending a strong waves below the ground. All the dark mages were thrown away by the impact of Nako's attack.

However, no matter how many times they tried to kill the dark mages, it just hopeless. The dark mage kept resurrecting from dead and continued to attack them. At one point, the six girls were starting to get exhausted and losing their focus. Suddenly, Yena got hit by the dark magic and fell to the ground.

"Y-Yena-unnie!"

Minju got shocked after witnessing the incident in front of her. She rushed to the ground to check on Yena's condition.

While Minju was losing her focus on Yena, she also got hit from the back by the dark mages. Her head was bleeding as she was thrown hard to the ground, and soon, her vision became blurry bit by bit.

The dark mages approached Yena and Minju who were lying next to each other, intending to end those girls' life. Yena who was still able to see them coming, but unable to move her body as she was in deep pain. She closed her eyes tightly, ready to accept her fate.

"I-I'm sorry, Minju-yah...I've fail to protect us this time."

******

"Princess Yena, Princess Minju! Are you alright?"

A familiar voice surrounded Yena’s ear while she was closing her eyes tightly, realizing that it must be the voice that would gave her the second chance of sontiinue her live. At the perfect moment before the dark mages could finished them, the royal soldiers made a heroic entrance at the scene where they shot down the luring enemy and saved the girls from a quick death.

Yena who was just getting ready to accept her fate a few seonds ago, opened her eyes with a sigh of relief.

"Oh, General Zhao! You came just in time. I thought that would be the end for us just now," said Yena while lying on the ground.

"The kings has give me order to bring back all six princesses to the palace as soon as possible. They have an important message for all of you," said General Zhao.

Yena just nod to whatever the general said. She was just grateful that she was still breathing air at the moment. General Zhao proceed to gather all the six princesses and bring them back to the palace safely.

All the kings of the six tribes were sitting on their thrones at the main hall of the Oneiric Palace, already waiting to welcome the return of their beloved daughters and the heiresses to their thrones.

"Welcome back, our princesses. We are all very deeply worried about your safety just now. Thank God all of you are still alive."

The kings proceeded to hug their daughters first things first, truly grateful for the fact that none of them were harmed from the attack. The girls also very happy to be able to meet their parents again. Suddenly, Yena remembered something.

"Father, what's the important message that you want to tell us?" asked Yena while being in her father’s arm.

"Oh, about that... I will tell you in a moment, my dear. Princesses, please, take your seats now," ordered Emperor Choi, the king of Pyro nation and the father of Yena.

"As it already came to your knowledge, our kingdom are currently under a great attack of the wicked Shadow tribes. They are indeed a very powerful enemy of us for as long as this kingdom was first established, and I believe today they have came to seek revenge on us over the damned history that happened centuries ago. Here also, I must admit, with the great number of armies they have, along with the dangerous flair of dark magic they possess, we might need a bit more luck on our side in order to defeat them, especially with Lord Drakka as their mastermind. Therefore, after considering those factors in this critical situation, we, the united leaders of Oneiric, has come to a decision that we will send you princesses to the Human Realm for a short while."

The surprising announcement sent all the girls flustered in their seat. None of them had ever been to the human world and never thought that they would have to go in any day of their lifetime.

"B-But, Your Highness...if I may ask... why? What do we have to do there?" asked Eunbi, hankering for a more clear explanation of why the drastic decision was made.

"The decision was made to protect all of you from the attack and also as an insurance to persevere our community in the future. Each of you is the only heiress to our thrones. If anything bad may happen to you within the outcome of this war, then that will mark the fall down of our long-built empire, therefore the deceased of our tribes", explained Emperor Choi.

"But we also want to fight, Father. We can use our power and fighting skills we learnt to help defend our kingdom," addressed Yena in passion.

All the other girls also agreed with Yena. They didn't want to run away to another realm and hiding like a coward while their kingdom was being turned into a pit of clash and bloodshed.

"Forgive us, Princess Yena, but we cannot allow your request. All of you are the most valuable assets to our kingdom at this moment. You might be our only hope to continue the legacy of our empire in the next future. We can’t be certain of what the outcome of this war would be, but in case any of us failed to stand, then you're the one who are destined take our place and bring back glory to our kingdom," told Emperor Kwon.

The six princesses remained silent on their seat. The fact that they would be sent far away from home in a few moment and lived apart from their family in a distinct place was a really hard to swallow pills for them , especially knowing that their parents' life were at high stake in the clash.

"My princesses, please, don't be sad. I promise you, we will still be in touch and we have prepare all your necessity in the Human Realm. You just need to stay there for a while until we put this war to end. We promise everything will be fine and things will go back as they used to be.”

All the girls started to get teary eyes. They would be separated from their parents for a long time and went to a place that was very different from their world. They did not know if they would be able to adapt in human world. Despite all of them possessed power and were physically strong, deep down they were still a young woman who need the love and guidance of their parents.

Suddenly, a loud, thundering noise could be heard from outside the palace, followed with a mild earthquake shaking the ground beneath their feet. Apparently, the dark mages were battling the royal guards at the bridge to force their entry into the majestic house. However, it seemed like the guards would not be able to defend it any longer as the amount and strength of the dark mages was too much for them to defend.

"Quick! Follow us." Emperor Choi and the other five tribal leaders guided them to a hidden door that lead to the basement where the inter-dimensional portal was hidden.

The girls had no choice but to follow the order of their parents. As they hurried down the generous amount of stairs, they could finally saw the teleportation portal that will send them to the human world in the form of big hollow ring sitting on top a square platform. All of them hugs their parents for the last time.

"I'll miss you, Father," whispered Yena to Emperor’ Choi ear as she hugged for the last time. Her voice was trembling as she tried to control her emotions.

"Me too, my princess. Take care. We'll meet again soon, I promise," replied Emperor Choi, while Yena was hugging him tightly.

"And Princess Eunbi, I hope you can become a good leader of your fellow friends there. I believe with the level of maturity you have at your age and also a great value of responsibility, you'll be able to guide your friends and survive there well enough," said Emperor Choi.

Eunbi just nodded her head while trying her best to contain her tears. She knew that she needed to be emotionally and mentally stronger to be able to lead her fellow friends in this new journey. After finished saying their last goodbye, the six princesses stepped onto the designated platform with a heavy heart.

"Best wishes to all of you. We'll be in touch soon."

All six leaders proceed to take their position, circling the platform with the girls standing in the center. They put their hand together while mouthing their sacred tribal chant along with some silent prayers to their late ancestors, gathering a sufficient amount of their elemental energy before before blasting it towards the center of mid-air. As their powers collided, they managed to summon the inter-dimensional gate in the form of a gradually expanding hollow ring, floating on top of the girls’ head with a tremendous scale of energy force field. The earlier stagnant and somber little basement was now illuminated by blinding white lights, together with strong winds whirling across the entire room. As the portal expanded to its limit, signifying it have reached its required amount of energy, a beam of purple light flashed onto the platform where the six girls were standing with their eyes tightly closed and hands locking onto each other’s, teleporting them to a dimension far, far away from their current one within a flash.

After a few seconds, the six girls sensed a new environment around them. It was really calm and quiet, a total far cry from the scene they experienced in the basement a while ago. Only the chirping sound of cicada could be heard, while their nose caught a nature scent of green grasses and wet trunks as soft, cold breeze brushed through their faces. With a mix of nervous and anxious feelings in their chest, the girls slowly re-opened their eyes to uncover the sight of the new world they stepping in, therefore launching off their new journey in what they be thought as the Human Realm.

"So... this is the human world?"

To Be Continued...

***Photo editing clip art credit :

-falling leaves picture in edited photo :

<a href='https://pngtree.com/so/Floating'>Floating png from pngtree.com/</a>

#choiyena #kimminju #kwoneunbi #yabukinako #ahnyujin #miyawakisakura #izone #fanfic #au

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