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animeheadcannoncentral · 4 years

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NSFW ENJI (Endeavor) X READER ONESHOT

Business/CEO A/B/O AU - this just popped into my head and turned into a 10 Chapter fic you can read on Ao3: “Hidden Flowers”

Warnings: smut, Dom Enji, sub reader, rough sex, A/B/O dynamics, alpha Enji, omgega reader, alpha Toshinori, heat cycles, dirty talk

Words: 5k

(Y/N) checked her emails one final time, ensuring nothing new had come through in the last three minutes that needed her boss’s attention. She picked up the file she had organised for the day, shuffling the papers into a neat stack before rising to her feet, straightening out her clothes and marching towards the CEO’s office. She opened the door without knocking, an action that he had told her to forego many years ago, she was his secretary after all, if she had something urgent to tell him, there was no point in wasting time knocking on the door. And he also didn’t need to burden of someone knocking on his door fifty times a day. The red head was on the phone when she entered, this scene wasn’t uncommon, some days he scarcely got away from the damn thing.

Closing the door behind her, she walked up to his desk and placed the pile of papers down on his right before walking to a white board and started neatly writing out the day’s major meetings.

“I don’t care about the cost, how long will it take to get it up and running again?” Enji sighed into the phone as he noted down the time frame.

“Is there another company that can fix it faster?” she turned back and saw he was looking at her. He’d asked both her and the person on the other end of the call, he just knew she’d come up with a solution faster.

“Mack Plus have the best engineers, Trencher Co. will be quickest but they fixed that unit previously and it’s broken again, I would suggest Wheels Down Inc as nothing they’ve fixed has broken again and it will be fixed within the week” she spilled out, she’d read the email about the mining vehicle break down this morning and immediately looked at the data for previous break downs. The man nodded and wrote it down, whilst also rolling his eyes at whoever was on the other end of the call.

“(Y/N) will send through contact details for further correspondence with Wheels Down Inc, let me know once the machine’s operating again” and the CEO hung up.

“Fucking useless” Enji muttered as he started going through his emails, “got any good news?” he asked.

“Stocks are up again today?” she tried which resulted in a small smirk from him.

“And you only have one meeting currently locked in today as well, however it is with a major shipping company that we’ve been trying to create a deal with for the past five years” she frowned a little at the last part.

“I said good new (Y/N), not mediocre news” he sighed.

“It’s their new CEO, so I guess a new chance to make good impressions” she tried again.

“That’s why I’m putting you on the front line”

“I’ll do my best Sir” putting the whiteboard marker down and turning back to him.

“Have you found anything of use in Yagi’s background?” he asked as he started going through the files she had left on his desk.

“Nothing of particular use. The problem is he seems completely different to his father, since he’s taken leadership, the company has become heavily involved in charity work. Regardless of whether it was his intention or not, the shipping company has gained a huge amount of positive press. I found nothing on Yagi himself, the only thing you can really play into in this deal is the ‘make the world a better place’ because even after a deep dive on his history, I couldn’t find anything to suggest he wants anything else” she explained with a shrug.

“How do our eco stats look?” he questioned.

“Favourable, we’ve cut emissions by seventy-five percent with the new machine’s we’re using, and with the new sonar tech that’s been implemented we’ve reduced habitat loss due to our companies’ procedures by nearly ninety percent. The rest of the report is on page five” she was confident as he went through the papers and pulled out the report.

“Increase public profile” the red head raised an eyebrow at the short list of suggestions she had made.

“It can’t hurt Sir, becoming more involved with the local community could see a potential increase of upwards of twenty percent in sales”.

“At what cost?” he put the paper aside, knowing she would be able to give him a clearer answer than the document.

“Time, funding, man power” she was curt, the CEO didn’t like wishy washy explanations.

“The board won’t like that” it was a statement.

“Can’t make an omelette and all that” she shrugged and he eyed her. She had never been wrong when it came to giving suggestions or advice on what was best for the company. She would voice her opinion on occasion, when she knew she was completely in the right. It was one of the many reasons Enji kept her as his secretary and refused to promote her to a section manager, not to mention the ridiculous bonuses that he forked out to her at the end of each year for her work. She were too goddamn valuable, and unlike many of his employees, she wasn’t afraid of him. The alpha was used to people grovelling at his feet, begging and pleading for whatever it was that they wanted at the time, usually sex or money, even employment. Enji Todoroki was one of the strongest alpha’s out there, hell, he was so intoxicating some alphas had even begged him to use them. But she wasn’t like them, it was almost as if she couldn’t smell pheromones, he was almost convinced that she in fact couldn’t, going by the amount that he had released around her in the beginning to test her.

When he’d first met her, he was shocked by her professionalism, she didn’t seem to care that he was an alpha and she wasn’t deterred when he borderline threatened her during the job interview. Hell, he didn’t even know what her secondary gender was, her CV states that she’s a beta, but the way she acted sometimes, she could convince anyone she was born an alpha. She wouldn’t take shit from anyone, and she certainly wouldn’t let him dish it out to her either, or if he did, she’d give it straight back and usually be right, and always got away with it. It’s why he respected her so much and hadn’t tried to come onto her once, also because he was more attracted to submissives, and she were far from it. She took suppressants, that much he was sure off, she never smelled like anything, and she didn’t give off any scent at all, ever.

“When’s the meeting?” he asked.

“In thirty minutes” she said as she turned to leave.

“You better get to it then” he mused.

“You don’t have to tell me twice” she gave a small smile and then exited the room. She made her way down to the lobby of the building to greet Mr Yagi on his arrival, just in case he was early. And wouldn’t you know it, this ball of sunshine was always early. He walked through the front doors to the building not two minutes after she had walked out of the elevator. She lifted her shoulders, stood up straight and approached the man with confidence.

“Mr Yagi, I’m (Y/N), Mr Todoroki’s secretary, it’s an honour to meet you” she put on a bright smile upon reaching him and what must have been his secretary. It wasn’t until she reached them that she realised how god damn tall the man was in person. Sure, Enji was tall, but for some reason, this man’s height stuck out to her. And they were both businessmen, so how the fuck did they both luck out in the looks, smarts, height and muscles departments?! It just wasn’t fair. Forget about triple threat, these men were quadruple threats. They covered all fronts.

Then to her surprise, he actually offered her a hand to shake with a genuine smile.

“Thank you for greeting us, this is my secretary Izuku, we’re so glad Enji was kind enough to host this meeting” his voice was deep, but kind and polite as she shook his hand, referring to the greenette beside him. She glanced at the young man before returning her attention back to the alpha in front of her.

She had never met a business partner this kind-hearted before, the business world didn’t usually allow his kind to thrive, but here he was, the CEO of the world leading shipping company. Without even realising it her cheeks flushed a light shade of red and she felt her heart rate increase, and of course, her scent glands started aching as they tried to release pheromones. Luckily, her suppressants were working for now, but it was then that she caught his scent, everything went blurry for a second and she lost focus.

“Are you alright Ms (Y/N)?” he asked, gently stabilizing her by her shoulders. She cursed herself, why did her body have to react to an alpha now of all times?

“I’m so sorry, Mr Yagi, and (Y/N) is just fine” she smiled up at him, puffing out her chest a bit and stabilising her footing.

“Please, call me Toshinori” he corrected her and she was slightly stunned for a moment. Every single business partner she’d ever introduced had always treated her like trash on the side walk, scarcely giving her the time of day. She’d be lucky if she even got a grunt of acknowledgment from them.

“If you’d kindly follow me” she said and turned to lead the way. Taking the chance to scoff at herself and attempt to pull herself together, an attempt that miserably failed when Mr Yagi insisted on maintaining small talk then entire elevator ride. He was just being a human being, asking how her day was going, how long she’s been working at the company, if she enjoyed working here. She could feel her temperature rising with each question he asked, and pain started erupting in her abdomen.

“Please follow me” she said politely, stepping out of the elevator cursing herself, she was going into her heat early, and she was pretty damn sure it was because of the presence of this alpha. She guided the CEO and his secretary to an empty meeting room.

“Please wait in here for just a moment, Mr Todoroki will join you shortly” she said before closing the door. Her head was starting to spin and the pain was growing from annoying to uncomfortable ridiculously fast. She maintained her composure as she walked into her small office, quickly taking some pain killers with half a litre of water. She ruffled through her draws as she looked for her EpiPen, her heart skipping a beat when she couldn’t find it. She knew she had one here for emergencies. The omega let out a sigh of relief when her hand glided over it. Quickly removing the cap and injecting herself with more suppressors that would hopefully stop the effects of her early oncoming heat for at least the next few hours. She took three deep breaths before exiting her office and entering Enji’s.

As soon as the door opened, a wave of pheromones hit the CEO. His brow furrowed in anger. His employees knew better than to come to work during rutting or heat cycles, it decreased everyone’s productivity.

“Get the fuck out of…” his eyes had been fixed on the computer when he glanced at the intruder. “…(Y/N)?” he looked taken aback. There was no way she was an omega. She always held herself like an alpha, how the hell was this strong, independent woman a fucking omega? However, he couldn’t deny that her scent was causing blood to flow straight to his cock.

“But you’re not supposed to be off til next week” he went to check his calendar.

“I know, it’s come on early” she let out a stuttered sigh as the drugs finally started to set in.

“I’ve taken some emergency suppressors, my hormones should level out in the next minute or so. I um, Toshi… I mean, Mr Yagi and his secretary are in the meeting room” she shook her head at herself. It was then that everything clicked for Enji and a smile crossed his face as he rose from his seat.

“He’s sent you into an early heat, hasn’t he?” the alpha’s voice was low, but there was a hint of playfulness behind it. She ground her teeth, refusing to answer the question, instead choosing to look away. He approached her, a smirk still playing on his lips, instead of walking through the door, he shut it, as he caged her between his arms.

“You know better than to not respond when I ask you a question, omega” he let the work hang in the air, testing her boundaries. Her brow furrowed and she glared up at him.

“You don’t get to call me that” she growled at him, then noticing that he was purposely releasing pheromones to try and rile her up. If she hadn’t just shot herself up with enough suppressants for a week, she would probably have slick running down to her ankles by now. Her boss was unfairly attractive.

“Answer the question (Y/N)” he leaned close to whisper into her ear.

“So, what if he has?” she burst out, ducking out from under his arms and walking across the room, folding her arms, “All he did was smile at me and I lose control, what the fuck is wrong with me?” she sighed angrily rubbing her temples.

“When was the last time you properly went through a heat?” Enji asked her, she looked back at him to see a genuinely concerned face. When she had taken her mandatory time off for her mating cycle she never stopped responding to emails, most people wouldn’t touch their computers during the height of a mating cycle, it all became too much, but she was always online, which told him that she probably hadn’t let her body go through a normal cycle in a while.

“I don’t know, during high school, like eight or nine years ago” she shrugged and the CEO just blinked at her in shock.

“I had more important things on my mind” she shied away from his judging look.

“That’s still a long time” he pushed.

“It’s not like I had an alpha to help me through one!” she suddenly shouted at him, she stared him down for a moment before realising what she’d just said and who she had just said it to.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that’s not your fault, nor something you should worry about, fuck I hate this” she muttered.

“(Y/N), be honest with me, have you ever been through a proper heat?” he asked, when she turned to him this time, there was nothing but concern in his face.

“No” she didn’t make eye contact with him, but she had no reason to lie to him. Enji hated how submissive she was being, this wasn’t her at all, while a dark part of him did want her begging for his cock, he hated seeing her looking so vulnerable, he wanted to protect her, to make her feel safe.

“Look, I’m going to be really selfish now, but if you think you can handle staying for the meeting then I could really use your help. If not, I’m also more than happy for you to go home. But you’re going home before lunch today either way and I strongly advise you don’t take any more suppressants” he paused for a moment, as if trying to word something correctly, “What I’m about to say, I’m saying as a friend, not your boss, if you need help getting through it, i can help you. But who knows, maybe you might actually be able to get his number and he can help you” the alpha growled slightly at that last part, admitting and acknowledging that he wasn’t the one to set off your heat. Although to be fair, he hadn’t purposefully released any pheromones around you since you had your job interview with him. The girl let out a sigh and composed herself, straightening out her shoulders.

“I’m staying for the meeting” he knew she would, “but I am not going through a full heat” she said firmly, walking past him.

“(Y/N)!” he was about to say more, but she had already walked out the door, heading towards the meeting room. She opened the door and put a smile on.

“So sorry to keep you waiting” she apologised.

“That’s quite alright” Toshinori smiled back at her, however he noticed that she was no longer producing the lovely pheromones that he knew he had set off. Was the girl taking suppressors? He was certain he had set off an early heat, that fact that she was supressing it frustrated him. He loved seeing a flustered omega, especially one who was normally kept together as this one appeared to be. She was going to pose a challenge, and Toshinori was going to have fun pulling her apart and turning her into his little slut. The thought had him half hard in his pants. This omega was going to belong to him, one way or another.

Enji followed her into the room. The two CEO’s shook hands and introduced themselves to each other before commencing the meeting. (Y/N) was a sharp as ever, handing Enji the correct documents when they came up in conversation and was able to provide any information when called upon. Izuku wasn’t as sharp as she was, but still maintained a professional standard and look about him, the boy certainly didn’t let the woman’s sheer dominance fluster him. The meeting went as well as it could have, they both signed a contract of partnership, so it went better than both parties were expecting. Seeing her in action just made Toshinori want her more. She was professional, sharp and confident, and he wanted to be the one to own her, to see her trembling underneath him, begging for his cock. Somehow, all four of them managed to remain professional throughout the entire meeting, there were no sly words with hidden meaning, and (Y/N) was thankful for that.

Enji Todoroki was never one to escort his guests out himself, it just wasn’t a thing that he did. So, he left the meeting as he usually would with a ‘pleasure doing business with you’, but he purposefully changed the wording on the following sentence ‘my secretary will get you anything you need before you go’. She burned holes into his back as he exited the room. She was going to kill him. The next morning’s headlines would read, ‘Secretary jailed for attempted murder of her boss’. She sighed, shaking her head slightly.

“Midoriya, go wait outside, I’ll be down shortly, I just need to go over a few things with (Y/N) before we leave” the tall blonde uttered to his secretary.

“Of course Sir” the boy said before he exited the room. Toshinori’s eyes didn’t leave (Y/N)’s, who still had her business face on. He couldn’t read her. This was going to make things more difficult. After seeing her in action, he wanted her even more, and without even realising it, his pheromones radiated off him. But she was acting as if she couldn’t sense them, which pissed him off.

“What can I help you with, Sir?” she asked, her tonne polite, but holding no emotion behind it. Unlike their first interaction where she put on a sweet, warm smile for him, she was bitterly cold now, purposely trying to shut him out.

“I don’t like corporate titles, I told you to call me by my first name” he sighed, rising form where he was sitting, she was going to be more of a challenge then he originally thought. That was fine, he was actually excited.

“Is there anything I can get you, Toshinori” she said softly, not removing herself from her seat as the man walked around the table removing something from his pocket. He handed the small piece of paper to her.

“You seem like a very professional woman, so I hope you don’t take offense to this, but here’s my number, I’d love to catch up for a coffee sometime” he said with a smile and she took the paper from him carefully, the man was letting off an absurd amount of pheromones which were causing her to literally burn off the suppressants she’d taken no more than two hours ago.

“I…uh…” she tried to respond, but the alpha gripped onto the side of her chair, leaning over her to whisper in her ear.

“Let me know if you need any help with your heat, something tells me you’ve never had an alpha look after you properly before” he growled lowly in his chest before pulling away and walking out of the room with a smirk on his face.

Once she finally recovered, she heaved herself out of the chair and found that her panties were completed soaked through, luckily it hadn’t yet soaked through to her actual pants yet. She made a quick dash to her office before closing the door behind her. She turned the internal heater on and grabbed the emergency blanket from the bottom draw, wrapping it around herself and hiding in a bundle under the desk with her laptop as she continued to work, hoping it would distract her from the slick pool that was growing around her cunt and the immense pain growing in her lower abdomen. At about three in the afternoon an email came into the inbox that needed the CEO’s immediate attention. She was too worn out by that stage to register that he had told her to go home and she probably shouldn’t be working at all. She flicked the email to him without a second thought.

Upon receiving said email, Enji’s brow furrowed, she should have been home by now. He quickly opened the door to his office just to check she had in fact gone home, letting out a low growl when he noticed her light was still on. He stormed across the corridor and opened the door, a wave of sickly sweet pheromones hitting him all at once. He was confused when he didn’t see her sitting at the desk, she had to be in the room, there was no way the place smelled this sweet without her being in there. He closed the door behind him and walked around the desk to find her nesting. His first thought was to yell at her for not listening to him and also for using the goddamn office to nest. But then he saw she was shaking as she tried to type out an email, it took a moment for her to noticed him crouching there looking at her incredulously.

“I told you to go home” he rumbled deeply, and she winced.

“I… I can’t walk” she admitted, refusing to make eye contact with him. Something burned inside him, obviously that alpha had said something to her to set her off again, and then just goddamn left her. It infuriated him, sure he’d done the same thing to plenty of omega’s before, but this was his…, no not his, this was (Y/N).

“I want you to send a message out to all staff working today and inform them that they can knock off” he said calmly. She was confused by the instruction, but took a minute to type out the message and sent it on his behalf.

“Now close the laptop and give it to me” he said gently, and she cautiously complied, handing him the laptop before he placed it on the desk over her.

“Come here” he motioned towards himself, and she went to move, but her eyes widened in panic and she returned to the way she was sitting, confusing the alpha who was doing everything in his power not to just grab her and knot her right there.

“If I move, it’s gonna run” she whispered, his face scrunched up in confusion for a second.

“What’s gonna…” he stopped short, she was worried about her slick. She really had never gone through her heat’s properly before, she was embarrassed by something that was normal, something that made him almost lose control and show her just how normal it was.

“That’s okay, it’s normal” he said, still offering his hand to her, she looked at him then, searching his eyes that were looking at her with kindness. There was no malicious intent behind them. She slowly reached for his hand and crawled out of her makeshift nest, pausing for a moment when slick gushed down her thigh, before continuing to crawl out from under the desk. Enji noticed she was clutching her stomach the entire time. She lifted her face up to look at him, she had tears in her eyes.

“Enji, can you please…” she paused trying to think things through, “can you please fuck me?” a tear rolled down her cheek when she said that and the alpha wasn’t’ sure if she was crying from the pain or from giving in. He unintentionally started releasing pheromones, having an omega so close to him, and especially considering that omega was clearly under a lot of stress, his instincts were taking over.

The omega couldn’t help herself when she caught his scent, she latched onto him, rubbing her face into his chest, taking in as much of it as possible. Seeing how well she responded to his pheromones, Enji started released them in waves and the little omega in his arms sighed and then started doing something he thought she’d ever do. She had split her legs over one of his muscled thighs and was rubbing herself on it. If he hadn’t been stiff before, he was definitely rock hard now. The omega was whimpering with each thrust of her hips, and soon enough, Enji could feel his pants becoming covered in her slick. He would never allow an omega to dry hump him like this, but she looked so goddamn perfect as she chased her orgasm on his thigh. He ran a hand through her hair, gently tilting her head back, forcing her to look up at him.

“Are you enjoying yourself? Little omega?” he asked lowly, she let out a moan then made eye contact with his stone-cold eyes, that screamed indifference.

“Please…” she whimpered, by the way she was shaking, he could tell she was close.

“Please what?” his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her.

“Can I p-please c-cum, alpha?” she begged, and something stirred in him, maybe she was a submissive after all. And as much as that excited him, he wasn’t going to be cruel to her right now, he had promised to help her after all. So many dirty things flooded into his head to respond with, but he wasn’t sure if they’d scare her off or turn her on. He decided teasing her was the best way to go.

“You’re so close already, and I haven’t even touched you” he mused, easily picking her up off his thigh and placing her in his lap, she let out a moan as she rubbed herself against his clothed erection.

“Good omegas look at their alphas when they cum” he whispered in her ear and then leant back into the chair, to watch her as she came undone. The girl did her best to look at the alpha as she rode out her orgasm, but her head titled back in euphoria at the height of her orgasm causing Enji to bite his lip to try and control himself. She was going to send him into an early rutt if he wasn’t careful. The girl was shaking as she came down from her high, however, her eyes widened slightly when she comprehended what she’d just done and she quickly looked away, causing Enji to smirk at her expression.

“Come now, you enjoyed yourself, didn’t you, (Y/N)?” he asked, gently grasping her chin and guiding her head to look at him.

“Yes, but…” she trailed off.

“But what?” he asked curious, although, the alpha was well aware of the answer, he just wanted to hear her say it.

“You’re my boss and I just, oh my god” she hid her face in his chest and he chuckled deeply.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m thoroughly enjoying this” he looked down at her to see her flash dagger eyes at him before she doubled over, whimpering in pain as she clutched her stomach.

“I can make the pain go away, you just have to ask” he whispered into her ear. She lost all normal sense as her instincts took over.

“Please fuck me, please alpha, I need your cock, use my cunt, please” she begged and a thrill rushed through Enji’s body.

“You’re so pretty when you beg” he trailed his hands down her body, hooking them under her thighs and lifting her up before easily manoeuvring her onto the desk. He rolled her pants and panties down to her ankles in one go, and was pleased to see that she had removed her shirt when he looked back up and was in the process of removing her bra, before laying down and displaying herself to him.

“Sir, please, I need your thick cock inside me, please fuck me” she begged again, looking him the eyes, on the verge on tears. The alpha released his hard cock from his restrictive clothing, stroking himself as he watched the omega writhe below him. It was a dream come true, seeing her beg for him like that, and it was taking his last piece of self-control not to dive in and fuck her immediately. He leant down over her, slapping his cock against her cunt, teasingly as he gently moved his hand to stroke her face, she nuzzled into his palm.

“Alpha, please, use me for your pleasure, I’m yours, please alpha, please” she begged again, attempting to thrust her hips upwards to gain any form of friction. Enji’s last fibre of constraint snapped, and with no warning, he thrust into the hilt and his omega let out a scream a pleasure. Even though this was her first time, there was enough slick pouring out of her cunt that his massive tool didn’t hurt her, it stretched her perfectly and hit all the right places as Enji started to thrust in and out of her cunt.

“Fuck… your cock… mhmm, feels so good, alpha, do whatever you want with me” she panted as he rammed into her. It was invitation Enji realised. He smirked as he gripped her throat with his free hand, and she let out a whine. Gently running her hand up and down his arm, encouraging to grip her neck tighter.

“Do you like that, little slut?” he whispered into her ear, and she nodded, her hips thrusting up to meet his.

“Good pets reply when they’re asked a question” he sneered, gripping her neck like a vice.

“Yes daddy… I love it when you choke me” she managed to wheeze out using the little oxygen that she had left in her lungs. Her words were nearly enough to send him over the edge.

“You’re such a filthy omega, I bet you’d do anything to please your alpha” he growled as he pulled his hand away from her throat, hooking one arm behind her back, the other under her thighs so he could lift her up. Her legs wound around his waist, arms hooking around his neck as he fucked up into her cunt, using gravity to enhance the angle.

“Mhm… anything to please you, anything, use me as your cock sleeve, I’ll be your cum dump, I want to satisfy you, please Enji” she moaned into his chest. This omega was going to be the death of him. She’d used his name, which meant that there was truth behind what she was saying. He could feel his knot starting to swell up.

“Fuck, you dirty whore, if you don’t stop talking like that, I’m going to knot you” he growled.

“But I mean it Sir, i need you to use me, I could keep your cock warm during long phone calls, mhmmm, you could come in here and fuck me whenever you wanted to, I need to pleasure you, please alpha” she whined.

“I bet you’d even let me fuck you in the middle of a meeting, wouldn’t you? Fuck. You’re mine. You’re my pretty little cum dump. You are mine, all mine” he growled possessively, thrusting deeply into her. It was enough to send her over the edge into an earth shattering orgasm, screaming his name as she clenched around his cock. He was patient and waited until she came down from her high.

“Alpha” she whispered in a sighed, he grunted, informed he was listening.

“Do you want to cum in my mouth or my ass?” she asked with a sly grin and he smirked, this omega had stamina, and the fact that she could keep up with him just made her that more attractive.

“All fours, face down, ass up” he ordered as he placed her on the ground. Oh and did she move quick for him.

“You’re such a perfect little omega for me” he cooed to her as he knelt down behind her, hotdogging her ass with his slick covered dick, using the slick build up to cover his knot.

“Please, use me alpha, I’m all yours” she begged.

“You’ve cum twice now, and you still want my cock. You greedy bitch” he growled, thrusting inside her back entrance, forcing his knot inside, scraping against her walls. The omega beneath him let out a muffled scream of pain.

“If it’s too much for you, I can take it out” he wasn’t being kind, he was teasing her as he fucked her ass. (Y/N) pulled her teeth from her arm and panted before responding.

“I’ll take your cock whenever you give it to me alpha. My perfect, handsome, strong alpha. I’ll give you anything, I’d do anything to please you. I belong to you” she moaned, it was enough to send him over the edge.

“Fuck (Y/N)” he muttered, with one deep thrust, he poured his seed into her ass with a guttural moan.

“Thank you alpha” the omega whispered as he slowly rotated her on his cock so she was facing him before picking her up and sitting down in the chair as they waited for his knot to shrink.

“You were so good for me” he cooed, continuing to whisper soft nothings into her ear as she leant against his chest.

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years

Text

stuck in stories - a hostage situation

Neil x Reader

summary: the intel you’d received was shit lacking, and as the mission got awry, you had to improvise.

+ song: Nothing But Thieves - Particles

warnings: language, some violence, blood mention, hand content

author’s note: thank you so much for inspiring me to write this little piece, my dear friend. And for that fantastic song.

This one is more action-packed than the previous works, I hope you’re going to like it!

This is a one-shot, but as usual - hits differently in you’re familiar with Neil and Reader from Stuck in Reverse series.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

___

You ducked between the crates. The dim light of the warehouse was working to your advantage.

But you could already hear the ruckus at the corridor, the doors you’d barricaded were not going to hold for much longer.

You checked the ammo - two bullets left.

“I’m almost out, you?” you whispered as you stopped in the darkest spot you could find.

Neil crouched right next to you and shot you a quick, panicked look.

Shit.

You gritted your teeth, your mind racing to find a solution for the unfortunate situation you’d found yourselves in. Aborting the mission was one option, but both of you knew that an opportunity like this is not going to happen anytime soon. What else?

“We could wait for them here, let them spread out, and take them one by one.”

Neil raised a brow, quite amused at the idea. “And rely on your sneaking skills?” he snorted and shook his head. “Just shoot me now.”

“Fuck you, darling,” you huffed, punching him in the arm. He got a point though. You sighed. “Fair enough, we need a distraction, then. Any ideas?”

He chewed on his bottom lip as he glanced over his shoulder at the other side of the hall. His face was tense, but the corner of his mouth curled into a smile. “You’re not going to like it.”

You were sure of it. But the time was running out, and so were your options.

“Hit me.”

Neil took a deep breath. “Remember Munich?” he said and his eyes lit up. “I believe it’s my turn now.”

Of course you remembered. You’d had to improvise to buy some time for the rest of the team to get on the site, so you’d acted as a decoy. What you also remembered was spending the next two weeks in the hospital.

And that agonizing pain.

You winced at the memory. You were not willing to see anyone in that state ever again. Especially not him.

“Forget it, I’m not leaving you--”

Neil turned your way and placed both hands on your arms. “Those guys are pawns. I’ll be fine.” His voice was calm, but it sent a cold shiver down your spine anyway. You knew he’d made up his mind already.

A loud bang on the other side of the hall.

They were getting closer.

A spike of panic was trying to force its way through your mind, but you were so deep in your mission mode, you barely felt it. The only indication of its presence was the pulse pounding in your ears.

“But-”

Neil’s gloved hand covered your mouth as he peeked from your cover. He clenched his jaw and looked back at you with determination. “Don’t argue with me. Get the pass-codes and radio-in the cavalry,” he said, searching your eyes for any sign of compliance. You stared back at him in a silent protest. “Please.” His dark gaze got softer, finally breaking your will.

You nodded.

Neil exhaled slowly and lowered his hand. You grabbed it and squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

“I’ll find you.”

He quickly pulled you closer into a kiss. “I know. Run.”

And so you did.

You reached the first door and managed to force a lock when you heard the sound of the barricade being breached. You rushed into a corridor and cocked your pistol, just in case there was any leftover security personnel at this side of the compound. There shouldn’t be any, but the intel you’d received at your briefing had already turned out to be lacking.

Finding the right room wasn’t a problem. Neither was overriding another, more advanced lock. Late-night lessons with Neil turned out to be invaluable. You could almost hear his clear instructions in your mind, walking you through the whole process.

The memory of one of your first lockpicking lessons flashed before your eyes. Losing your patience and groaning in frustration after breaking yet another tool. Neil’s arms wrapped around you, his hands on yours, slowly but steadily guiding your movements.

You smiled to yourself as the door gave in with a quiet click. You slipped into the room and looked around. Someone definitely tried to make it look like an elevated boss office, but you didn’t have time to muse over the poor choices in interior design. You jumped to the desk, reaching for a pendrive hidden in your vest. As you plugged it into the computer and ran a script to help you sneak into the system, you could finally signal the team.

“Ives, do you copy? We need a backup over here,” you barked into a walkie and tossed it on the desk.

“Copy. ETA to secondary breach location - thirteen minutes. Hang in there.”

No questions asked? Must have been something in your tone.

A minute later, you gained access to all files and after a quick search, you found what you’d been looking for. You copied the files and hesitated. Biting your lip, you typed in a few commands and pulled out feeds from the security cameras on the screen. You browsed through the images from different locations, trying to find any clue about Neil’s whereabouts.

You inhaled sharply. There he was, sitting on the chair in the middle of a room, with his hands tied behind his back. A woman in a black security uniform was standing in front of him, her back facing the camera. She punched Neil in the face, the force of that blow almost sending him to the ground. You spurted out a litany of cuss words as you unmuted the feed.

“I’ve asked you a question, pretty boy.”

You clenched your hands on the edge of the desk, watching as Neil spat out blood on the ground.

“So that was the annoying ringing in my ear,” he scoffed, his lips curled in a sly smile. “Blimey.”

The next punch landed on his stomach, making him bend in half breathless.

“Where is your partner?” the woman snarled, grabbing Neil by the hair and making him look at her.

“Got out and left me here,” he said, coughing out.

“If you’re lying-”

Even with the questionable quality of the feed, you could see his eyes lighting up. “What, you’re gonna beat me?” he mocked with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh honey, I’ve barely touched you,” the woman chuckled, taking his chin in her palm and squeezing it. She glanced over her shoulder and you realized there must have been someone else in the room with them. “Check it.”

“Take your time!” Neil called after the person leaving the room. For a brief moment, his gaze focused on the camera, as if he knew you were watching him. He shifted slightly, wincing. You noticed a trickle of blood coming down his face from the cut on his cheekbone. The way he wanted to look relaxed, leaning back on the chair with his legs spread wide, made you grit your teeth. The corner of his lips twitched as he raised a brow. “So... you come here often?”

A hysterical giggle escaped your mouth. Oh god, he was going to get himself killed.

You reached for the walkie. “Got the codes, on my way to the rendezvous point.”

“Copy. Meet you there in five.”

Packing your things and erasing every sign of your presence from the room, you took one more look at the screen, just in the right moment to see a precise kick landing on Neil’s ribs. You closed your eyes, but you could still hear his muffled groan.

“Ives,” - you said, turning off the computer and making your way out - “hurry up, please.”

With the help of the squad, you secured the area in no time. As you burst into the room where Neil was being held captive, you didn’t hesitate. It took you a second to lock on the woman you’d seen on the screen just minutes before, another second to put a bullet into her head. Few more shots echoed through the room. Only when Wheeler called all clear, you allowed yourself to look at Neil, sitting still on the chair in the middle of the room.

The vacant stare he gave you made your heart clench in your chest.

Before you could run to him, Ives grabbed your elbow.

“Child’s play, eh? What happened here?”

You glared at him, flashing your teeth in frustration.

Couldn’t it wait?

“We’ve run out of luck. Or your intel was shit. You pick.”

“Fucking hell,” Ives let go of you, his face tense as he considered your words. He glanced towards Neil and rolled his eyes. “Oi, mate, stop slacking, could have gotten out of those knots like three times since we came in.”

That made Neil finally focus his gaze.

As you walked up to him, he blinked a few times and winced, releasing his hands from the ropes. He rubbed his wrists and scoffed, “A little sympathy wouldn’t kill you, you know.”

Now that your adrenaline rush was wearing off, you were slowly getting overflown by the emotions you’d kept bottled up since the moment you split up in the warehouse. Seeing Neil’s face up close, covered in bruises, bleeding from cuts on his eyebrow and cheekbone, brought a choking lump to your throat.

You knelt in front of him and carefully took his hands in yours, only then realizing that he no longer had his gloves on. You held your breath as your eyes ran along the wounds on his knuckles. His long fingers trembled lightly as he interlocked them with yours, making you glance up to meet his eyes.

Neil looked at you tenderly, but he clearly struggled with concentrating his gaze on a single point.

“I’m fine,” he said softly and gave you a weak smile.

You bit your lip. You desperately wanted to kiss him, but you were too afraid to hurt him to even graze your fingertips against his face. There was also the tiny part of you not willing to make a scene in front of your team, but to be honest, you were way past caring at that point. As your thumbs gently stroked his fingers, you let out a shaky breath.

You stood up and reached out your hand to help him get up, but he waved at you dismissively. You rolled your eyes, still ready to provide a safeguard at any moment.

And you were right to do so; as soon as Neil got up and tried to take a step, he lost his balance.

“I’ve got you,” you said, taking his arm and tossing it on your shoulders, wrapping your own arm around his back. Neil leaned on you and frowned, shooting you a thankful look.

As you guided him towards the door, you noticed his clenched jaw and a pale shade on the uninjured parts of his face.

He was far from fine and both of you knew it.

And to think he could have escaped his bounds way before you got to him if only he’d wanted to. You shook your head. “Why the hell did you let them do all of that to you?” you said under your breath.

His brows drew together as if you just asked about the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because as long as they were focusing on me, they wouldn’t be focusing on you.”

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #robert pattinson #stuck in stories #stuck in reverse #tenet #tenet fanfiction #neil tenet fanfic

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Survival.”

I had a lot of fun writing this one. Honestly being inside his head is so much fun, and I hope you all like it :). Hope it makes you laugh today.

So, I survived….

Surprise!

Not sure how that is going to turn out for me, and as I wake up lying back down in the sand and my right hand chilled from the cool inland ocean, I begin to realize that the awful ordeal I had gone through wasn’t just a dream. At first it felt like it, warm sand below my back and cool water on my fingertips. Somewhere birds are chirping, and I lay there for a while simply soaking in heaven, that is until I hear the secondary explosion as one the aux engines which jolts me upright sitting there covered in sand, my clothes singed, my arms aching from minor burns…. Completely alone.

Looking around I realize that this is not in fact earth, those are not, in fact birds, and I am not, in fact dead and being shown to heaven, but in fact much of the opposite. This is not earth, those look like tiny dinosaurs, and this is honestly, probably hell.

I take a minute to get my bearings before slowly crawling my way to my feet stumbling upright. The prosthetic takes most of the weight as I limp up the beach and back towards the wreckage of the command deck. I don’t expect to get much out of it considering that the entire thing is on fucking fire, but give me a bit of a break, less than a day ago I had been plunging towards a blakhole (or what I thought was a black hole that clearly turned out to not be) sure that I was going to die. In a way I was just a little pissed off. Don’t get me wrong, its not because I WANTED to die, I am actually one of the few humans on the face of the galaxy who enjoys living, but simply because I had accepted the fact that I was going to die. I had made peace with it, I had expected it, but instead I had been thrown into one of the worst warp experiences of my life, rattled around inside the command deck and then crash landed spectacularly onto an unknown planet.

I mean, it didn’t look like any place I Had ever seen before. Sure the sand and the ocean were almost natural, but tall, skinny, thousand foot trees certainly weren't, and neither were the large shelled crustaceans shambling up the beach .

I sighed and sat down in the sand with a soft plop watching as fire continued to smolder at the wreckage of my ship. It was only now that I realized my shoes were gone, and I could feel the sand between my toes.

Then the slight hissing hits me, and I turn to look down at my arm where a glint of bright silver catches my attention.

The iron eye suit.

I hadn’t had time to take it off.

I flexed my fingers watching the mid morning light run up and down the metal.

Ok, that was interesting.

Of course my dumbass had managed to take off the jetpack at some point….. shit.

I flopped back in the sand staring up at the sky. It was all coming back to me now, the entire ordeal from start to finish. The fight with the Kree, the space battle --that was arguably pretty fucking awesome…. Eat your heart out kirk-- and finally my destruction of the ship and my journey to the sort of blackish but not really, hole.

It occured to me: Everyone thought I was dead.

That stopped my musings for a second. What would happen? They wouldn’t look for me…. Would they? Then again UNSC policy held that no man was considered KIA until there was a body. I would be pronounced missing in action though assumed dead.

Someone else would be given command, my ship would have to be repaired, and meanwhile the crew would be disbanded or sent on leave.

Katie, maverick, Ramirez, Krill, Conn, Narobi, Cannon…. They all thought I was dead.

Waffles?

Fuck… thinking about her made me want to cry. Like I am going to be honest here guys, when a dog dies in a movie or when a dog is sad in a movie because their human dies, I don’t give a shit about the human, but I will cry. I will cry like a weenie because the dog is sad.

Like when all three of your brothers are sitting on your right hand side, and you have this magic ability to be water falling out of one eye while the other is dry to save face with your manhood kind of cry, no? Is that just me

Then my family, my father, my mother, my brothers. What would this do to them? They'd be devastated sure… Imagining my mother hearing about my untimely death was heartbreaking, and I was worried more than ever about Thoams. His quiet struggle with heroin addiction, and his recent one year sobriety was a big step for him…. Would my death mean setting him back? Was I that important to him that something might happen? He never dealt with stress well, so what was going to happen.

And… Sunny?

I had saved her life, yes but what had I done to her in the process? I had made her watch me die, unable to do anything. I had made her helpless, a victim of circumstance: something I knew she would never forgive herself for. I may have saved her life but…. I possibly ruined her in the process.

…

It's a good thing my brothers weren’t here because I wasn’t going to be able to do the one eye waterfall trick. This time it was going to be both eyes…. Still mad that that screwdriver hadn’t ruined my tear ducts too, I could have benefited from that.

I’d say I took about five six minutes to myself to be a pathetic bitch lying there in the sand feeling sorry for myself, and then I wiped my eyes manned up and got to my feet.

Alright.

I looked around at the open planet and the smouldering wreckage of my once beautiful ship. There was only one option here. I had to find a way out, or at least a way to survive, so maybe one day someone might find me somehow…. Yeah yeah yeah I get it is unfounded optimism and it is totally not going to happen, but let a man dream a little.

I was going to have to channel the spirit of one of my childhood idols.

Mark Watney

You know from that book about the guy who gets stuck on mars by himself for a year, the one that was made into a pretty good movie with Matt Damon.

I liked both the book and the movie though they diverge a little towards the end:you know, because hollywood.

There are a couple of problems with this plan of course…. Number one being that I am not a super smart engineer botanist. I am in fact, a fighter pilot, and a raging idiot.

I mean granted I did go to that pilot training school where they drop you out into the forest for a month and tell you good luck, that sucked shit, so it's not like I am completely helpless but still.

However, luckily for me, unlike Mark, I don’t have to worry about air, or water. Granted I have to worry about food, but in a different way. I don’t know what here would be edible to humans, so I am going to have to read carefully. THere is also the issue of clean water which Mark never had to worry about, I do.

YEah, I get it, our circumstances are very different, but I think what I want to channel most about him is his attitude, nihilistically optimistic.

I am going to survive this.

I look up at the sky watching as the planet’s rings glow dimly overhead through the blue atmospheric haze.

First thing was first, water, food and a weapon.

Fun fact about my model of ship:It is already ready for a scenario like this and has emergency packs stored under every seat of the bridge. Of course the problem there being the bridge is now on fire.

I walk over to the ocean and cut strips of my uniform to tie around my hands. I know it won’t give me much, ut it is better than nothing. Then I dunk myself in the water. It’s cold and causes me to shiver, but the air around me is warm, so I am not so worried.

I turn and head back towards the ship keeping a distance from the larger fires and heading towards the more smouldering ones. I don’t strike much luck to begin with, but eventually I manage to haul out one emergency pack from under one of the crew chairs. MY hands get a bit singed in the process, and the hot metal causes me to yowl like an angry cat and drop the case to the ground, but at least I have something.

I wait or it to cool off for a few minutes before dragging it back up the beach and sitting down to open.

Jackpot!

I have a canteen (with purifier) one of those filtration straws, to make the inland ocean my cup, and a handy little device that analyses organic material and tells you if it's edible or not.

I love living in the future

I also had emergency blankets, fire starting material, a knife, a flair gun, a radio. This was also along with a couple of other odds and ends like a compass, paracord, first aid kit, inflatable life raft, a multi-tool , monocular, and a box of nails.

The first aid kit included, bandages, antibiotic ointment, antibiotics of the general: for whatever stabs or infects you variety, painkillers, a turnakit, sewing needle and thread, staple gun: sort of, gauze anti-inflammatories, and fuck yes, a razon a toothbrush and some toothpaste.

If i ever got off this planet and back home I was to kiss whoever made this case, man woman does not mater, they are getting a kiss, cheek if they happen to be married of course, but if they really insist I um up for full mouth contact on the person who saved my life.

All jesting aside, this was good, and I first went to go get a drink of water.

HYdrations is important kiddos.

Next I had to tend to my injuries, minor burns and scrapes, bruises that I could do nothing about. Then it was time for a little shelter, which i erected with great ease between a couple of the strange tall trees, using torn up ferns to provide bedding on the inside and a canopy overhead.

I was feeling pretty badass right now, survivor style, though lets be honest, I was kind of lame since I had so much help from the magic box of wonderful mysticalities.

You know between this gox of medicine and the arc of the covenant, I would definitely pick this box first, for sure.

Took me a good day or two to get settled, and I’ll admit it wasn’t easy.

Gathering food was fine, I found some berries and fruits off of nearby plants, a couple of roots that were ok to eat, and even some of the crustaceans were palatable once I cooked them, using my fire pit and laying them out over a slab of discarded ship metal.

But there were a couple things I failed to think about.

A couple of things being

1# there is no fucking TP on this planet, also I had to dig a hole for fear of accidentally giving myself cholera or some nasty thing on accident by contaminating a water supply.

2# bed uncomfortable

3# no sunscreen

4# After a couple days your really start to smell like ass, now hold on for a minute there, I am completely in the habit of washing my ass,I promise, but I am telling you unwashed human just smells like ass, no way around it, greasy nasty sweaty stank.

The clothes don’t help obviously, and I found a way to wash the clothes by rubbing them in the sand and using some sweet smelling leaves.

OF course you know the problem with all that, right?

Naked.

While on laundry day I am completely nude out in the sun on a tropical planet. If someone were to go flying overhead, they would see more than they bargained for, and way more than they wanted as my pasty white ass flapped around in the breeze as they drove by.

A change of clothes was in order, so I spent the day, while my clothes were being washed, sitting on the sidelines using plant material, scraps and thread to pull together a rudimentary grass skirt/ loincloth of sorts

Now don’t think it didn’t cross my mind everyone.

I half expected god to descend from the sky and ask me what I was doing.

This whole covering your junk with leaves thing seems to be a theme for people named Adam

And yes that was a biblical reference, I am in fact named after the first man, so this is a fitting bonding moment for me and my namesake.

The biggest issue of course is when everything slows down, late at night as I am trying to fall asleep, and I realize that…. I may be stuck here forever.

I will grow old and die alone on this island.

And no one will ever know.

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theskyexists · 4 years

Text

ive bought harrow the ninth and am now attempting to reread act 1 so that i may understand it better

ianthe clearly proposes that Harrow not get herself killed trying to bring Gideon back - reading it over again. instead to take the future and somehow?? be really powerful together and forget about their cavaliers. but harrow says no

im once again struck with how offhand this book introduces the concept that the empire goes out to deliberately kill planets over a couple of generations

now im not sure....there also seems to be an implication that there’s no aliens - because they say only humanity has a soul - but client planets were said to rebel - i guess the human colonisers rebel against central solar system command sometimes? but then what enemy does the Cohort fight? possibly it’s just bigotry that they think aliens dont have a soul

but like - they find LIVING PLANETS and then - kill them slowly. to the extent that they need to move the entire population. WHAT? why do they do that??? just so they can do some bone tricks???!

what the fuk

so how did the planets get murdered again? and which solar system planets could really have been said to have had enough life to have a soul?? cos like, only one of them is really known for that

why did God give Harrow the choice to go back home TWICE if he was never going to let her?

once again, why mess with the Hand candidates if God was always gonna come for Cytherea? just to mess with him more?

yeah - harrow keeps hearing and saying ortus ninegad but the rest of the world remembers gideon.

Harrow truly is totally mentally shattered AND time is totally fucked up

but sometimes in the fake-ish timeline Harrow remembers but doesn’t remember Gideon - like how she notes that there were two womb-bearing members of the Ninth who were the right age...but only elaborates on herself

for some reason - Harrowhark remembers Ianthe’s arm ripped from her by Cytherea - but now it’s whole. for some reason

that letter is still so what the fuck

‘like you did the last time’ - hm harrowhark sewed Ianthe’s lips shut? how did she come by the power?

is ianthe - calling Harrowhark God?

throughout the first act, they keep referring to time, having too much time, or not mastering time, or not having enough time, ‘this time’ etc.

the eggs you gave me all died - that’s DIRECTED at Harrow, is my theory

ok but the planet revenants come after Lyctors and also God (- God became God when? at the Resurrection) before the Lyctors happened - God was still at Canaan House - despite the Revenants already coming right...

is Teacher criticising god and lyctors for leaving Canaan House lol?

ok so yeah Canaan House WAS part of a ‘last sacrifice’

ok so - Harrowhark is a little resurrection miracle. This implies that God killed a lot to resurrect the Houses.

wow God is being a very dad to Harrow

Blood of Eden - BOE - they turned their back on the solar system. now they hate necromancy. in other words - when the solar system died, God resurrected it - but before that point some humans had fled - lived. and they can see what absolute fuckin horror necromancy is ACTUALLY

so what im getting is...maybe...god resurrected humanity by killing the planets...?

i just realised that Ianthe has taken Gideon’s place as the smartass in the room - the counterweight to Harrow’s portentousness

what the fuck do augustine’s comments to Mercy mean???? why is she unloveable? why would he say that God doesn’t need her? and why is it obscene that Augstine calls God John? What is the dangerous game she’s playing? What was the foul implication??

‘Then that is your downfall’ OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Harrow BURN!!!

what i don’t get is - the Cohort is an army - when they land they die because they’re being killed by an enemy at the front - NOT in pure sacrifice for thanergy. so why does only the death of humans and planets produce thanergy. why is the death of the enemy not good enough? they don’t have fuckin souls?? they MUST be complex life. and doesn’t a planet produce a constant stream of thanergy? but i guess it’s not dying enough - generally its life maintains itself in ecosystems.....unless a fuckin lyctor ‘makes the juice flow’ i guess!

sometime in the next book there IS gonna be a ‘are we the baddies’ meme. muir loves memes and she stuck skulls on absolutely EVERYTHIGN. Like WHY THE FUCK would you colonise planets if you gotta kill them for it? LOL????

huh? augustine just said that they can’t use necromancy when in the river - but mercy mocked harrow for having hypothermia ? implying her fundamental failure was not being able to necro while in the river? Harrow’s inability was what was wrong partly right?? oh no ok it’s how Harrow tried to compensate for her body going lights out while in the river. alright. that was written confusingly

how and why is this a completely different story???

The Sleeper.......is Harrowhark? the suit is too close to what she was wearing killing the asteroid. and the sleeper is lying on ‘something’. oh they just straight up say it lololol

ortus got into trouble 19 years ago...hhmmmmm wasn’t Gideon 19??? huh? which is why Mercy started at Harrow’s peculiar YELLOW eyes that Harrow can’t see herself i think

‘i do things face to face’ ortus says after stabbing harrow. HUH? why go for a stab if decapitating would have done the job? just to give her a small chance to fight back? (face to face?)

why not tell God that ‘his’ attack dog is trying to kill you?

why does Ortus the First want me dead? ‘who?’ ---uh. has she forgotten him completely (time shit) or is she saying the wrong name? mercy wouldnt reply like that then right?

she told him and he’s like - oh well guess you gotta just get through repeated almost-successful attacks on your life. ???? THANKS GOD!!!

‘you, with your unfortunate memory for poetry’ HA! i love how we are reminded that she knew all the fuckin damn books nearly by heart which is insane!

Teacher suggests his dying at least three times a day?? hahaha what?.........................is this purely a meme reference. is that meme the mental image im supposed to have of Teacher??????????? is this trying to say that this meme was preserved in the amalgamation of human life that is Teacher?? oh my god....

no.....palamedus and camilla....did old Harrow really kill them.....

seems like all the murders were consensual maybe?

it’s probably too straightforward that Harrow created and alternate timeline and made for a Harrow Lyctor without Gideon dying and kicked her to the original? maybe she took Ianthe and Coronabeth with her bc she needed Ianthe’s help

is this Cytherea or Dulcinea? Pro seems real this time. why does Dulcie call Pal and Cam strands and cords?

did muir put in a fuckin secondary school S - muir’s just like - im gonna put in all the memes as a nod to ancient human culture

still no idea what the messages are that Harrow is getting

This Harrow is so goddamn sick. I mean she was sick before, but at least she had Gideon. Really do feel that that helped her. now she didn’t have that -- AND she’s getting slapped with trauma another five times

if ortus can undo the thanergy of her own bone then why not simply crumble HARROW into dust? cos there’s a core of thanergy fusion in her that he can’t undo?

FLKJDFKLJSDLFSD fucking IANTHE ‘Wow! Not how I imagined this happening, at all.’ FUCKIN HELL

Harrow with her fucking fucked up dramatic inner monologues about weakness and Ianthe comes in with this shit. she really is doing Gideon proud here.

Did love Harrow’s musings about how only a truly idiotically obedient Cavalier would be the only one to keep to a vow of silence. HAH! nice one muir

‘have you taken the time to rest lately?’ asks God, YOUR FUCKING SAINT IS TRYING TO KILL HER IN THE FUCKING BATH YOU IDIOT AHAHAHAHA

JEZUS FUCKING CHRIST - try and be normal Harrow! try and make some soup and read a book! Harrow: *does and then hyperventilates hidden under her bed after 86 hours of zero sleep*

she was trying to remember what cutlery did. why is this so goddamn funny hahahaa. this book has ONLY been Harrow being in extreme states of misery ALL THE TIME both mentally and physically to the point of death

GOD IS HAPPY THAT SHE MADE SOUP AND DOESNT EVEN FUCKIN NOTICE SHE’S NOT SLEPT FOR A WEEK SOMEHOW THIS IS THE MOST HILARIOUS SHIT

thats what you fucking GET you piece of shit god! you push a prodigy teen to the brink and she fuckin explodes your lyctor and feeds you her fuckin marrow. maybe you shouldn’t have ignored her goddamn fucking understandable distress

SHE FUCKIN HITS HIM WITH THE FUCKIN TRUTH what an IDIOT of a God. he truly doesn’t understand mortality anymore huh

I LOVE HOW MERCYMORN CONTINUES TO MAKE HARROW YOUNGER IN HER HEAD AHAHAHAHAHAHA she’s only nine years old!!!hahahaha

naturally God focuses on how - wait- actually harrow is truly an INSANE necromancer - INSANE

still no idea what the fuck is going on in the not-past

aww. ianthe’s scent soothes harrow now. begrudgingly of course.

i thought this was gonna be lovely angsty harrow/gideon but naturally that did not happen

harrow is comfortable! first time in the whole book! one moment of comfort!!!

‘love my twin, also murder’ tridentarius pffjlfjdljf

‘how i crave your honeyed words’ hah

wow this scene sure is weirdly sexual with these similes lol ‘as though she had shyly undressed for you’ ok there Harrow you about to chop her arm off calm it probably sex repulsed thirsty teen

i do love how....there is this theme again that’s everybody underestimating the main character - who is actually a prodigy. Gideon had that with the sword and Harrow also has it with being a Lyctor now

it’s so telling that these Saints would rather be shits to these babies than help Ianthe grow a new fuckin arm

i dont see why Ianthe can’t work off this bone construct which is her own stuff and put some flesh on it since SHES A FLESH NECRO?

Ianthe that’s super gay

wow muir really never delivers on full gay does she??? i dont mind but i think it’s so striking hahaa

how are Harrow and Ianthe still hung up on the Saint of Duty? i mean, if they dont have him against the RB they’re dead anyway

why is the First going through rain and ice?

Harrow haunted? naawwww

i cant help but like mercymorn though - she cares. it’s soured ages ago but she cares.

awww Harrow needs Ianthe to sleep

Ianthe constantly poking Harrow for her prudishness is so goddamn funny.

‘It’s the type of energy i wish to take into my future’ AHAHAHAHAHAAH IANTHE MY GOD

‘i always forget you were an honest to go nun ... and six years old to boot if you listen to mercymorn’ HAHAHAHAHAHA

‘you look good enough that im proud of my handiwork but not so good that i’ll be consumed with lust and ravish you over the nut bowl’ fpdfjsdfkjsd this is what harrow means with crude japery and yet....

mercymorn has started to call harrow three years old. i will NEVER tire of this gag

all of the blood of eden stuff happened in the past 25 years??? god was on the erebos, but he also remembers ortus kicking the commander out of an airlock? that was in the last 25 years??

Ianthe‘s carressing the nape of Harrow’s neck. hmmhm

its honestly super weird if you think about it for more than 10 seconds that theyre talking about their cavaliers whom they murdered (im still not sure if all consensually) ten thousand years ago (!) and how hot they were that just seems.....fucked up

Harrow is like WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! basically all the time but especially now. yep well that was to be expected i guess lololol

Harrow being painfully frozenly fascinated by (god having) sex and deeply repulsed is very Harrow

oh nooooo well that was a perfect kiss between them really

the funny thing about Harrow is that though she is so completely fucked up - just like Gideon - she is fundamentally a helper.

why wouldn’t Harrow have thought of blood wards! she knew he could only bleed thanergy! it;s the first thing i thought - just use not bone wards then!

ortus thinks anastasia is in Harrow - which makes me think - why does he think that’s possible?

mercymorn now calls Harrow a two-year-old. i am waiting for embryonic genius

so did they use the river to get to the planets theyre killing?

Harrow feels the peace and pleasure of a stroll through nature that she has come to kill

oh my god - Harrow somehow saved Cam and Pal is still attached to the mortal plane!!

Harrow helps Cam risking herself entirely just like that. yknow as she does

i wonder if Pal has realised that Harrow is not who he remembers

i think he realised once he realised haz mat suit was Harrow also...

ianthe xo’d harrow.....lol

im sad that original harrow is definitely dead.... :( loved her. guess gideon’s not coming back either. not sure how the second adept survived. she didn’t survive in the original timeline either. but she was ‘killed’ in the other - just like coronabeth..so that means soemthing

this whole ‘flashback’ stuff to Canaan House is Harrow being in the River the whole time. the cold temperatures, the blood, the creatures theyre fishing from the sea that apparently abominations

after all, we’ve just learned about river bubbles and a haz!harrow that can change their parameters.

all the people ‘dead’ she’d not spoken to much or at all beforehand. like they’re NOT real, in the River. the only one not like that is Dyas...

the fact that the narrative keeps calling Dulcie, Dulcie means she’s really Dulcie.

there’s giant organs falling from the ceiling. this is definitely the river

they talk about time AGAIN

the Body is the devil who let herself be used to complete the work of Teacher and the Lyctors in his mythology....hmm. and when they realised the price (AFTER? the work was done?) they wanted her dead but he buried her....SHE allowed them to become Lyctors?? I still don’t understand why the heck that was necessary

the king is dead, long live the king. hmmmm

Harrow comes onto a hallucination of the devil who was her first crush with the voice of her parental figures and the eyes of a love interest she can no longer remember - which is actually not precisely a hallucination probably - and gets summarily rejected lol OUCH (the Body didn’t mean it that way ofc)

Harrow is so repressed on every single front but definitely sexually

I love Mercy

so there is death beyond death. does everybody go into the river and become a mad horrid ghost? like - is that everybody’s fate? how awful

ok so God DID resurrect the planets also. ? but like. then why are there resurrection beasts?

what does resurrection mean? and who killed the planets in the first place?

BECOMING NONE HOUSE, LEFT GRIEF

oh.....my god.

ARE YOU AND IANTHE BEING SAFE!!?!?!?! HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

HIS BODYGUARD IS THE DEVIL??

so the destruction of Earth somehow made God? as though it was something that simply followed from it

A.L. was destroyed in the first assault? Of an RB

so the RB’s were happily running off in the other direction until they decided to fuck around and kill their mates to become immortal and powerful - then the RB’s turned around and came towards them - which meant leaving the planets God had resurrected forever.

what the fuck god??? hahahahaa

God always seems so likeable goddamn.

Harrow is such a dramatic bitch. Affection??? JUST KILL ME!!! KILL ME!! LET ME SMASH THE GLASS SO I CAN KNEEL IN IT AND BLEED ALL OVER THE FLOOR!!!!

Harrow goes into her fun kid's game of not dying to traps.

But she instantly calls him father. OH MY GOD

HE DOESNT BELIEVE HER!!!

'then that will be your downfall' - is what Harrow said to Augustine AND IT WILL BECOME TRUE FOR THEM ALL

to be dismissed like that where it hurts most - to have God Dad dismiss her only slip of comfort her only pillar of truth in this crazy old world

'nobody had watched you leave'

SOMEBODY HAD - I love all the deliberate references to Gideon

Temporal lobe!!!! Again the temporal lobe!!!

So why was it again that Harrow refused to be locked in with the Emperor?

So isn't God gonna check out Harrow's temporal lobe? He's just gonna let that mystery go to its death?

WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKK

Muir what the fuck??!!!!!!!!

Oh it was.....a hallucination?

Always love how this dips into genuine horror sometimes

What's weird is that Lyctors seem made for the task of going into the river and killing Resurrection Beasts - instead of the other way around.

So say - that the sword somehow holds Gideon's soul (we've just learned that that's possible from Pal and also Ortus trying to get Pent to summon his grandma by his sword) - does it not make sense that Harrow 'for some reason' stabbing Cytherea's corpse with it transferred it to her? Or maybe it's SOMEHOW Anastasia if Ortus was macking on her. But Ortus thought HARROW had/was Anastasia.

IANTHE WANTS TO MARRY HARROW - HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA

Every fucking chapter doesn't make things any clearer. This is worse than Gideon the ninth

Hello???? Am I reading a canon alternate universe roleswap au??? What the FUCK is going on. This is like - if they hadn't gassed the 200 and her parents instead adopted Gideon for her clear necromantic gifts which nobody noticed somehow the other time round

I do love how Aiglamene was the sole source of slight comfort in Gideon's life. And Crux was Harrow's - apparently in any sequence of events.

Harrow is tumbling through timelines. But how can you do that just by messing with the lobe?

WHAT!! WHAT!!!

Is this...is this what I think it is??? Is thi

The fanfic roots are STRONG in this one. In fact I believe I've READ this fanfiction

Harrow's temporal fever dream (in the river?) HAD HER (Decidedly Not) VYING FOR 'HER DIVINE HIGHNESS' hand, which is either the Body or Gideon or both lololol. Seeing as the previous had Gideon as the main unnamed titled character - I bet it's Gideon ahahaaga

A fucking. COFFEESHOP AU. OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDD

We've had roleswap, 'ball' au, and coffee shop au populated by the ghosts of the dead LOLOL,

I knew it!! I knew that they were ghosts and that they were in the river!!

Ok so but when did Harrow shoddily create the bubble? When she adjusted her memories at the start? When is this. Ah Harrow has the same thought hahaa

So the stage is a - she was building her memories while sleeping?

Why is that she cannot access her lyctorhood like this...

I just realised that Harrow's mind made the party food taste like SALT based on Ianthe's cooking!!!! Hahahaha

THE NARRATOR IS GIDEON. But it doesn't sound like Gideon though

There's more to the work than simply preserving Gideon's soul though. There are next steps that Harrow prepared for that Harrow doesn't know about yet

Who was the sleeper and why was it in Harrows riverscape of memories that she ACCIDENTALLY??? made

Ok she sounds like Gideon NOW

Gideon no it's not because she didn't want you! It's because she wanted you to live!!!!!

And she succeeded....your soul is INTACT in her body!!!! You're protecting her with full consciousness!! How the fuck. And why didn't that happen before when she went to the bubble?

Are the ghosts of the contestants happy that they got pulled out of the River briefly? Or were they so briefly in there they couldn't remember?

She returned them to the RIVER???? is that really such a kind fate????

Something has gone wrong in the River - yeah because why r all these ghosts going insane and stoppering it up like slib

Do love how Muir has found a way to give these characters more screentime

I actually said 'oof' when Harrow screamed at Ortus - oof that really is embarrassing. GodDAMN Ortus you stepping up with the emotional support!

I've EVEN read the damn fanfic in which they switched bodies. My god.

A. L. apparently is thought to wander about still. I think she's the body....I do believe she's the body. That's why the Lyctors are scared of her

She thought - what. Mercy is talking about blood of Eden's commander. What is going onnnnn still!!!! Mercy is the traitor I guess. But how is blood of Eden connected to the ninth house and the body?

Why is Mercy awake on the mithraeum and not in the River anyways?

Gideon.... And the commander were in cahoots? So did A. L. and Anastasia an the body and the commander all have the same eyes?????

What the fuck is going on indeed.

Cytherea seems to have had a plan B for getting revenge on the Emperor. Or something had a plan B with her corpse as the main weapon.

If guns are so effective against people why aren't they still used.

The messages are from the commander. I.e. Gideon's mother. I.e. Anastasia? We never explicitly did learn how she met her end no? Gideon was convinced that Anastasia had taken the baby. It just seems incongruous how the Emperor spent like 80 years on the Erebos and the Lyctors were faffing about - meanwhile there was this drama going on in the last half century?

I love Abigail Pent. Love that I got to see more of her.

I'd honestly forgot that Judith was alive by the end of all of that shit

The sleeper is -the sleeper is Gideon's mother. Also. She's haunted by her mother. SOMEHOW. what the fuck? They couldn't drag her spirit back from the river they said!

'you wizards never learn' there's a whole modern regular sci fi world and culture out there! Or maybe it's just a. L.

Is it? Or is it Anastasia? Or is it the commander? Or are they the same thing?

The sleeper wants Harrow's body. Somehow invaded it - probably from the river? - which means its Anastasia or the commander. Which means that whatevers possessing Cytherea is someone else.

In retrospect - Harrow's coldness to Ianthe talking about - to what her - seemed nonsense at the time - in the very first part - doesn't quite fit.

Oh my fucking GOD Gideon is fighting Ianthe for messing around with her fucking girlfriend - who is HARROW, who actually, Ianthe wants to marry.

They just went from ramping up to a serious fight to Gideon dropping Corona's name and suddenly they're like - ah we got more important priorities actually.

Augustine's first thought at thinking a.l./the body (?) is in Harrow is John - and the Second is Joy!(mercy?)

'How I was gonna have to take showers with all your clothes on.' fuckin Gideon hahahaha

Wonder if Ianthe truly believes what she's saying - that Harrow was trying to rid hersel of Gideon. It's preposterous. It's just hurtful talk.

GIDEON REALLY THOUGHT THAT LOOK TO MEAN THAT HARROW DIDNT LOVE HER??? THIS IS A CONSTANT BARRAGE OF ALL THE ANGSTY DRAMATIC SHIT IVE BEEN YEARNING FOR

Oh my fucking god Gideon calling Ianthe out for being in love with Harrow in the most iconic way ufsojdjdodnd 'she wants the D - the D stands for dead'

Crazy brain-mutilated Harrow sure made it seem that way I can tell ya that!!

Hahahahahaha Ianthe remembering Harrows prudish Ortus/Cytherea shit. Amazing

Aw Gideon really went and fell right into the cavalier/bone mistress shit huh. And trying to shield Harrow - well as noted before - very necessary because harrow has been having a godawful miserable time - mostly because of herself.

Gideon appreciating Ianthe's pun xD

Love how neither of them position themselves as the love of Harrows life but instead as inexorably attached to her by the sheer role they play in her life - they don't dare aspire to what they think they can't get.

Muir realises this is gonna end up as a Gideon/Harrow(/theBody)/Ianthe ship right?

Oh WOW THIS IS AMAZING. nonius the legendary nonius!!! Come to protect Harrow!!!

For some reason the Sleeper can manipulate the rules of this River bubble and doesn't seem surprised about it

If all her cavaliers were this excited for death, she was definitely the problem.lololol. somehow Harrow, you inspired undying loyalty in even a person that you treated abominably

Yeah Harrow you slowpoke. If the Sleeper can adjust the rules - so can you

If the sleeper was not Harrow's invention - but planted itself - then they're very lucky it got to the ghosts that weren't actually there - first.

So it was the commander....a portrait in a shuttle of blood of eden - can only be the commander. And redhaired? There are too many red haired people in this book!!

It's nice how all these ghosts got to have lasting impact from beyond the grave

NONIUS KNEW ORTUS/GIDEON?

Ok so ....there's the bed of the River with stoma. But there might also be the other side.

Did Harrow really not account for steps beyond her plan to mutilate her brain?

Is this book really gonna go: fuck you Gideon will die anyway ?????

But.wait. the sleeper had a two-hander. Where did that go???

I don't get it. If they go into the river - won't they also go insane?

SO NYAH!!!!!???

Ok but - what? The Commander ALSO -somehow - took over Cytherea's body?

'did the ten billion give you that too' I KNEW CANAAN HOUSE HELD EVEN GRUESOMER EXPERIMENTS AND SACRIFICES THAN LYCTORHOOD. God is made of ten billion souls. I think they killed humanity on earth to spare it 'slow inexorable apocalypse' and used the power to make the Empire from the resurrected. There was an extremely vague implication by Teacher to the amount of souls violated in Canaan house in the first book.

So God knows the commander went for the ninth house? Firstly, how. I don't understand how Anastasia fits in here!!! It would explain though how the commander

So the commander found the ninth house - and she died right? They tried to call her spirit but couldn't. But she became a revenant?

Ah. God THREW the bomb.

A fuckin wake me up inside joke jskdjskdnd

So Mercy and Augustine ( not Gideon ?) had all turned against God? And they were working with the commander to -... Make a baby????? And then evacuate the houses???? (For when God dies - there being a risk that Dominicus would go out I guess)

Make a baby/body to lever the one who lies in the tomb into....?

Love how the book foreshadowed Mercy and Augustine manipulating and lying to God - and turns out they did that on much bigger scale

They....meant to kill the baby to break the blood ward?

'The woman who I was pretty sure was my mother, wearing the body of the woman I'd had a crush on, who in turn had been wearing the identity of a woman she'd murdered -' KSNFKDJDKFJJFC

So why did they want this consistently characterised as kindly and humane god dead?

GIDEON THOUGHT IT WAS HIS!!!! But he called Wake Anastasia then????

They really are the same???

Oh my god I know what they're gonna say. Gideon is the daughter of God. WHICH HARROWS FUCKIN ROYALTY AU FEVER RIVER DREAM FUCKING FORESHADOWED HAAHAHAHAHHAA

Isn't it fucking ironic that God told Harrow that - HE WANTED HER TO BE HIS??? WHILE GIDEON HIS ACTUAL DAUGHTER WAS SPINNING INSIDE HER CHEST LIKE A LITTLE NUCLEAR FUSION REACTOR

They've been trying to kill him for more than 500 years???? Did mercymorn actually genuinely learn the extremely fine knowledge of the body for THIS purpose? How many thousands of years ago did they decide to kill god?

A fucking DAD JOKE

GIDEON REMEMBERING HOW SHE USED TO TELL HARROW HOW HER OTHER PARENT MIGHT BE THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WORLD SO STOP PICKING ON HER

I am fucking DELIGHTED I AM SO GODDAMN OVERJOYED

It segues into a reminder of how shit their childhoods were and how their suffering had them lash out at each other endlessly and how it made Harrow suicidal and shit though - which is great

ALECTO'S EYES. THE A. FOR A. L.

A. L. The cavalier of God....but she walked. She had a body.

Ohhhhh. That's why they betrayed him. That age-old hurt. Ten thousand years old but still the bane of their existence, the seed of their madnesses. The loss of their cavaliers. Oh how did they manage to keep that from him?

I honestly thought - is Mercy saying she knows he killed humanity? But that's not what she couldn't have forgiven?

But why did he hide it? Why did he hide the perfect way? ('it would be easier' why???)

Ah. Yes. The expansion, why would the Emperor do that?

Uhhhhh. Couldn't Mercy have done that all along??????????????????????? Couldn't Mercy have killed God all along? That was both a trick and utterly sincere.

Augustine and Mercy were trying to do the right thing..... Mercy.... :'( Augustine was right. God is much less sentimental than he seems.

'im not even mad that you failed to either fix or put down Harrow' hm guess the constant kill quest HAD come from God after all. What a goddamn bitch of a man

What was the original plan? Unleash a. L. ? And then what? How would that help with the whole Dominicus going out problem?

Had God ever really thought to make up for all the bullshit he put his Lyctors through. He seems so affable and human but he's caused so much suffering. He's as good at manipulation at them - better!

The resurrection beast can't kill him, but he let his Lyctors die to them one by one anyway. So why??

Why are they punching each other in the River? They can use theorems right? God could blast Augustine to pieces same he did mercy?

Yes! It's true! Pyrrha and Gideon both exist in the same body - foreshadowed by his cavaliers build. There was something so fishy about it.

I love how Gideon has exactly the same response as me: what the fuck. Pyrrha??? Gideon??? What the fuck??? Why did they BOTH have an affair with their enemy??? So ok. Pyrrha stayed underground from Everybody for the thousand years. SOMEHOW their compartmentalisation let her pop up in his body regularly and not just when Gideon remembered her - because the hadn't fucked up his brain. But then how did THEY do that.

This absolutely galactic balsiness

The stoma thinks John is a resurrection beast. Might it be.....because he's..... A revenant. A 10 billion souled kinda- revenant ? A bit like.....Harrow is? Which is why he felt kin to her? Which is why he compared her creation to Resurrection?????I've really gotta reread those messages from commander wake.

A fucking jail for mother meme. Jail for one thousand years. Gideon how do you know this one????

I KNEW Ianthe would do that. Knew it. She doesn't want the system to die. Coronabeth is still out there. Well guess what - she's on the opposite side babe. Ok I realised that Gideon's mum apparently stuck to Gideon and then the sword? But also did Harrow manage to break the blood ward because of of her proximity to Gideon? Did Harrow uhhhh get put into a pocket in the river? But the emperor wasn't murdered!!! Fuckin chapters kept lying. They're on a hold planet. Finally - we meet the people. Alecto and Camilla and Corona? And Judith.? Did Alecto somehow do a time twisty around to come save Gideon at that moment in the river? Once again nothing much more is clear.

#my stuff #harrow the ninth #gtn #ninth

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mobius-prime · 5 years

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129. Knuckles the Echidna #26

The First Date (Part One of Three): She Loves You… (And You Know That Can't Be Bad!)

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Chris Allan Colors: Frank Gagliardo

So this arc is kind of… eh, awkward and dull. There's really no action, and it's all centered around love and dating and whatnot like we're suddenly watching a bad will-they-won't-they sitcom. Everything is extremely heteronormative - like look, I get this is the 90s, but everything is about "boys and girls" and just ends up sounding really juvenile as a result - and everyone is really out of character, too. I mean, do Knuckles or Julie-Su seem like the types to wander around all lovesick like shallow high schoolers? Not to mention the Chaotix, especially Vector, are… well… ugh, let's just jump into this and get it over with.

The Chaotix are hanging around in their usual burger joint, when Espio mentions that recently he's heard some surprising news about Prince Charmy - namely, that he's gotten engaged!

Now, you remember how a while back when the Chaotix were first introduced I had to clarify that unlike in the games, where he's six years old, in the comics he's sixteen? This is one of those moments that completely threw me when I first read the comics, because I had been operating under the assumption all this time that he was six. Now, obviously sixteen is still pretty damn young to be getting engaged, but I was sitting here with my eyebrows furrowed wondering why Charmy's friends didn't seem more concerned that this six year old child suddenly had a fiancée. I thought that his parents had arranged his marriage to Saffron (for whatever reason her name is misspelled in this issue, with only one F) and that by going back to his role as a prince he'd basically doomed himself to having his love life strictly controlled. But no, I guess somehow in the short time since he left the group and went back home, he got into a serious enough relationship with Saffron that he proposed (or hell, maybe she proposed, who knows). It's possible there was still pressure from his parents considering his heritage, but for now we can only assume that it was a totally voluntary action on his part to get engaged to Saffron, which is just… really, really weird.

Now Vector is very displeased to hear this. Vector is, in fact, something of a gigantic sexist douchebag in this issue, talking big about how no woman could handle him, prompting Espio and Mighty to joke that Julie-Su is more than his match if they were to go head to head in a fight. We then cut to Julie-Su angrily and viciously firing her blaster while shouting about Knuckles "running out on her."

Geez, man. You think her insurance covers blaster burn marks on the walls? She's mostly angry because she wants to talk to Knuckles one on one, but he's not there with her right now. He's with his father, in some kind of apartment-like space within Haven (it's not really clear, but I'm assuming Haven given we're talking about Locke here) as his father makes him breakfast. Out of nowhere, Knuckles asks his father about "why boys and girls get together," prompting Locke to immediately spit out his coffee. Knuckles, unfazed by the sudden brown-colored backwash all over the table, starts going on about how whenever he's around Julie-Su, he feels "weird."

This is maybe my least favorite part of Kenders' worldbuilding in the comic. Apparently, the Soultouch is an instant romantic attraction between two members of the opposite sex amongst echidnas, essentially love at first sight. It's not outright stated, but in case you haven't guessed, this is why Julie-Su so abruptly left the Dark Legion when she first spotted Knuckles many issues ago, feeling like she "had to find him" but didn't know why. Knuckles asks that if the Soultouch is accurate, why Locke and Lara-Le ended up splitting up, to which Locke shrugs and says that he doesn't know, but even the best of relationships require a lot of work, which is maybe the most accurate thing written in this entire arc. Knuckles then utterly hilariously, and completely accidentally, makes his case for homosexuality by saying he thinks things would be easier if guys stuck with guys and girls stuck with girls, noting that he gets along way easier with his male friends and "doesn’t even think about other girls." Kenders clearly wasn't meaning to characterize Knuckles as a closeted gay, but that's how it comes across and it's amazing. Let Knuckles be gay if he wants, man!

Meanwhile, out on the street, Espio and Mighty start challenging Vector's flippant attitude toward women, taunting him that he probably doesn't even have the backbone to ask a girl out on a date right now. Vector, his fragile masculinity sufficiently rattled, stomps away and begins casing out the women in the area in perhaps the most uncomfortably out of character series of panels I've ever seen.

*sigh* Kenders… why in the unholy hell… did you think this was okay? Remember the sweet but clueless Vector in Sonic X who did his utmost to help Vanilla out and give her nice things because he had a crush on her, not caring about how "hot" she was or that she was a single mother with a little kid? Yeah, this isn't him. Ugh.

Julie-Su, meanwhile, has had enough of moping around in her apartment and takes a walk outside, trying to think of ways she can improve herself and become more confident. She happens to pass by a clothing boutique and glance inside, and as she muses to herself that perhaps she needs to stop being so serious all the time and learn to have a little fun - probably a good idea, considering she was part of a technological military group for so long - a passing echidna suggests to her that she go inside and try out the hat she was absentmindedly staring at. She's startled, but allows herself to be led inside by the echidna and an attendant of the store.

I very much disagree that it's "so her" - I feel like Sarah-Connor-style badass tank tops and combat boots are more her aesthetic - but regardless, the echidna encourages her and then invites her out for lunch. Fun to contrast his polite and complimentary approach towards Vector's more misogynistic one, huh? Back in Haven, while Locke is out of the room, Knuckles' musings are interrupted by Archimedes poofing in and immediately noticing his lovesick state. Upon hearing that Locke was rather awkward in trying to explain the source of his feelings, Archimedes offers his own advice for Knuckles' problem which basically boils down to "you'll never know if you don't take the plunge." Knuckles, encouraged, stands up and has Archimedes poof them away, and a second later Locke walks back in, surprised to see the room empty. Back in the streets, Vector is still trying to "score" to prove himself to Espio and Mighty…

That is the most uncomfortably-drawn swan I've ever seen. Like… why in the world does she have boobs? She's a bird! Birds don't need boobs! Argh! Archimedes poofs Knuckles straight into a restaurant, apparently having homed directly in on Julie-Su, because there she is, out to lunch with Raynor the echidna who asked her out, and to Knuckles' shock, she's holding his hand… better make a move fast, man, cause this polite dude is gonna win her over first!

Friend in Need

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Manny Galan Colors: Barry Grossman

So I think this is actually the first KtE arc that has a secondary story at the end of each issue - previously, they've all had one story taking up the full span of the pages. This story follows Mighty, in which he is approached by Nicolette the Weasel, who prefers to go by Nic due to her full name "not sounding tough enough for a bounty hunter," and who is Nack's previously-unmentioned sister (and looks exactly like him but with eyelashes and a crop top, because girl). She gives Mighty a red collar, which in shock he realizes used to belong to Ray the Flying Squirrel, whom he used to know. He agrees to come with Nic on her latest treasure hunting venture, providing the brawn she needs in exchange for his chance to look for what happened to Ray. While they're flying to their destination, Mighty becomes lost in memories of how he met Ray, leading to one of the most jarring character revelations next to "Charmy is a prince" - all we've ever known about Mighty up till now is that he has super strength and likes hanging around on the Floating Island, but apparently, six or seven years ago he was captured by Robotnik's forces and taken to a goddamn slave labor camp, where he found himself on a prisoner transport cart along with Ray. Ray had a very bad stutter, most likely due to fear and trauma, but was still kind to those around him, and Mighty began to look after him even though he was shackled due to his strength. But unexpectedly, one of the other prisoners on board this cart was Sonic! Keep in mind, we're talking about a cart full of eight year old children that Robotnik was shipping off. Mighty was skeptical of Sonic's confident attitude, with Sonic claiming that he was there to break everyone out, and that Robotnik didn't suspect him since he was only a child and up until recently adults had been carrying on the fight. However, with recent losses, the Freedom Fighters formed by Sally in the Sonic Kids special started taking up arms against Robotnik as well.

Let that sink in, man. This is why the leading members of the resistance against Robotnik were children and young teens. All the adults were dead or roboticized. Anyone who could have fought was gone. These children had no one else to stand up for their freedom; circumstance forced them to step forward and take the lead instead. Remember what I was talking about a while back, about Sonic having trouble settling down after Robotnik's death and how he was so used to war as essentially a child soldier that even in peacetime he found himself unable to relax? This is the true horror of the war against Robotnik. King Acorn's abrupt disbanding of the Freedom Fighters several issues ago may have seemed dismissive and uncaring, but in the end, his point of view does make sense - he doesn't want literal children robbed of their chance to, well, be children. Just think of how many main characters, and hell, even side characters, thought for so long that they were orphans until their family members started turning up after the war. Think about how many are still orphans for all their know - where are Amadeus and Rosemary Prower? Where's Bunnie's parents? Antoine's mother? Amy's parents? That is what the war against Robotnik cost society. It's actually kind of chilling.

Anyway, Nic wakes Mighty up from his train of thought as they land at the site of the now-deserted labor camp. Mighty is a little jumpy, still reluctant to trust Nic fully, but suddenly an unexpected face makes her appearance…

Fiona? As in, the robot that Tails supposedly fell in love with right before his solo adventure? She's a real person? And Mighty somehow knows her? Oh boy, there's a lot to cover here…

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #kte 26 #writer: ken penders #pencils: chris allan #colors: frank gagliardo #pencils: manny galan #colors: barry grossman

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morethanaprincess-a · 4 years

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@trinitytalents said: 👫

Send ‘👫’ for the mun to introduce you to a npc in my muses life.

At least the day had started well for Valentina, Queen of Novoselic (nee Borghese, daughter of the Duke of Orelli). As soon as the clock struck five, Gabriel had slipped from between her bedsheets and tiptoed to the door after kissing her forehead. As usual, she'd lazily tried to grasp his hand or shoulders, sleepily uttering that she commanded him to return to bed. And as usual, he'd whispered something terribly naughty he'd do to her later if he wasn't otherwise occupied as the Head of Novoselic Castle security. As soon as she watched him retreat into one of the two hidden passages connected to her room, she'd rolled over only to awake at a far more appropriate hour of 10 AM.

At precisely 10:15, a maid entered with her breakfast tray, perfectly portioned servings of wheat toast with accompanying jam, a bowl of fruit, yogurt, and a vegetable drink, which Valentina pinched her nose before downing first. This had been followed by Daphne, her senior secretary (the other two had been consigned to email and letter duty until noon) and her tablet. While older and far too smiley for Valentina's liking, she could ignore the woman's graying copper hair in favor of her knowing when to be silent (during her Japanese dramas) and how to tell the difference between eggshell and cream when it came to table linens (Valentina had fired secretaries for less). But most importantly, she knew that when it came to their Head of Security, he was an off-limits topic in anything but the professional sense unless they were alone.

"Your Majesty will be pleased to hear that your fine arts charity for high school students in Novoselic has had a 25% increase in donations this year, with several patrons attributing your gifts and galas as the cause," Daphne beamed as she interrupted her reading of Queen Valentina's unusually light schedule. But in comparison to all of the appearances she'd put in lately with Alexandre busy in Council sessions, a moment to breathe was hardly slacking. "Naturally. Thank you, Daphne. That will be all until the afternoon." She'd replied loftily, but deep down she was near to exploding from joy, both from the news as well as the laptop that rested beside her on the bed. She had important personal business to see to that morning.

Important business that was now threatened by Emelia, the Queen Mother. Just as Daphne swept from the room with a bow of the head, she'd nearly bumped into Alexandre's mother and Novoselic's past Queen. Emelia was in her seventies, kept her hair far too long (and terribly raggedy in the morning), and now had a tendency to visit her daughter-in-law during breakfast ever since Sonia was sent off to Japan for school. When the Princess still lived at home, she commonly ate breakfast with the woman, if just to spare her mother from her grandmother (or the other way round). While she was intent to savor the peace of her toast and Christie's online auctions, the Queen Mother had her usual morning plan in mind.

"Yes, please set the tray there Henri," The septuagenarian insisted, gesturing to the low table she wanted the footman to set her own breakfast tray down on before, perhaps more insistently, pointing to the TV, "And move the TV closer so I can hear. Channel 5!"

"Emelia, I am otherwise occupied," Valentina shot her mother-in-law a stern look, setting down one of her toast points. For the past week she'd been in a bidding war during Christie's annual online handbag auction with, if the username was anything to go by, was that socialite bitch from Singapore made fabulously wealthy twice over due to her high-profile skincare line and equally high-profile divorce from an airline CEO. The Queen's last six trips to Hermes' Faubourg store hadn't resulted in the Himalayan crocodile Birkin she wanted, no matter how much both the manager and Pierre-Alexis Dumas, the brand's artistic director, phoned to apologize. So now she was stuck bidding at Christie's against her Singaporean rival, who somehow still looked twenty-five at fifty, married a man at least ten years her junior, and already had three Himalayan crocodile Birkins, two of which had diamond-encrusted palladium closures (Valentina may or may not have watched her closet walk-through several times and deemed real diamonds on handbags to be tacky and reeking of 'nouveau riche'). She wasn't about to let the woman who defied the test of time add a fourth to her closet when she'd yet to obtain her first. "Must you enjoy 'Wake Up with Wanda' in my presence?"

"One should never have breakfast alone if you want to maintain your health," The older woman nagged, settling into the sofa with her own breakfast tray of oatmeal and toast. "Besides, Wanda's interviewing that handsome Pokora fellow this morning and he'll sing after!" 'Wake Up with Wanda' was the new edition, if fifteen years of hosting could be called new, of the previous morning show 'Rise and Shine with Richard.' Both shows aired on Novoselic's secondary news channel, NTV2, and primarily focused on current events, culture, and gossip. Emelia had fallen in love with it the moment Richard, when he was still young and dashing, interviewed ABBA and had promptly taken the Queen of Novoselic's call when she'd telephoned to tell the quartet how much she adored their records. A private concert later and she became one of the show's most prominent patrons for the past 40 years. Emelia insisted it kept her up to date with 'the young people.'

"You only care for M. Pokora because he covered a song by Claude Francois," Valentina quipped, hastily punching in a new number onto the Christie's website. Take that, Singapore Bitch and monster-in-law.

"Who adapted the song from The Four Seasons," Emelia was elderly but not senile, and was determined not to be outdone. She gave her daughter-in-law a triumphant nod. "Could you pass the raspberry jam? Somehow the kitchens ran out this morning and poor Alexandre, he had to have his toast with only butter before meeting the Council."

Valentina scooted to the side of her bed to hand it gently to the woman, no matter how much she wanted to chuck it at her head. At least she hadn't mentioned ABBA, her true musical love. Valentina herself had enjoyed her playing 'Mamma Mia!' over and over until Sonia, as an infant, was given a paternity test. Now she suspected the woman played it in the Queen's presence just to remind her of the plot of the ABBA musical, where the protagonist's daughter could have been fathered by three different men. Before the test came back confirming Alexandre as Sonia's father, the musical's plot was perilously close to real life. Every situation Emelia could highlight Alex's misfortunes had been capitalized on ever since. "I shall speak to Daphne about ordering more after breakfast."

"Good!" She grinned, taking another bite of oatmeal as her gaze flickered back to the TV. "Novoselic Castle should always be kept up to standard, after all."

Valentina sighed, pushing down her desire to scowl and groan at the same time. The woman had never accepted her son and his wife were in a loveless marriage with no cure. At least, for now, she was 30,000 euros in the lead for her new Birkin-

READ THIS.

An email, sent to her personal account from Daphne, popped up as the auction entered its last three minutes. Finally letting out a groan, She opened her email to find only a URL in the body of the email, something that would take her to a Japanese site. "This better be important," She grumbled, clicking it.

It seemed to be a journal of some sort, written in Japanese with plenty of discussion about fashion and style for teenagers, popular culture, and so forth, with far too many 'kawaii' touches for her liking. Belonging to a dark-haired girl with a red bow, her content varied from her fashion to interviews, often featuring fellow teenagers likely close in age. Valentina felt her eyes glaze over until she tore her gaze from the sidebar to the first entry at the top of the page: Hope's Peak's Ultimate Princess, the Princess of Novoselic Answers YOUR Questions!

"Oh dear God," Valentina gasped, clutching the sides of her keyboard as she began to scroll. There was her daughter, bright and smiling in an outfit she'd never have let Cecily approve of for her as she chatted amiably on video with the dark-haired girl. The goal was to find the person behind the Princess and find out what being Royal was really like, according to the introduction. The Queen froze at the sorts of questions the girl's 'fans' apparently wanted to know: Did Sonia have a significant other? Did the Castle still have in-use torture chambers? How big was her closet? Nothing about her various charity work in Japan, professional appearances, or even the positive highlights of their country's history. Just glamour and gore. Exactly the sort of interview she'd been trying to fend off from Novoselic Daily News, who'd been promised Sonia's next interview once she'd finished with UK Tatler and Japan's NHK.

And if Daphne's capital letters were any indication, it was likely NDN's CEO had already gotten whiff of Princess Sonia's unauthorized interview to a complete amateur.

"What in the HELL is she thinking!?" Valentina cried, all but forgetting her precious Hermes and Emelia, reaching for her phone to fire off a phone call which, unsurprisingly, went unanswered. She had no choice: she'd have to corner her daughter by text.

I know you are ignoring me, Sonia. You will call me as soon as you receive this message unless you prefer to be put on your plane in the next hour and flown straight home.

#more-than-a-princess answered #more-than-a-princess memes #(Sonia's relatives apply throughout most of her verses and with most of my writing partners)#(But here's a scenario that takes place after our last thread)#trinitytalents #NPC drabble meme

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demonslayvr · 5 years

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USE THIS WEBSITE TO GENERATE YOUR MUSE’S POKEMON TEAM.

so i got tagged like, fifty times yesterday to do this and while i answered a huge long ask about this here we go lmAO. the only thing different here is, like, dante’s houndoom is actually a mega hoodoom, i was just very tired fighting the generator and went with the good boy that’s kinda the same thing. anyway --- pokemon information is under the cut ; i go into detail how each othem really work with / for dante. missing out on the seventh pokemon which is usually just whichever pokemon partner vergil has that dante kinda hangs onto for a long time, folks.

dante’s pokemon partner and first pokemon is an arcanine that is nicknamed ace and holds a pretty large scarf around his neck ; the color of the scarf is predominantly red with gold fire flames on it. dante evolved his growlithe with the fire stone he acquired on one of his jobs ; though the evolution wasn’t really standard as his partner evolved to protect dante when he was injured on a hunt.

the stone had fallen out of his pocket and his growlithe who’d been doing his best already to assist his friend and was wanting to help . . tapped its snout on the stone and evolved to fiercely defend dante who was almost unconscious due to a blow from a demon. ace’s current move set are as follows: fire fang, extreme speed, teleport and retaliate.

dante’s secondary partner, though not actually his is whichever pokemon was vergil’s pokemon partner. the two share quite a deep fierce empathetic bond just like dante shares with his arcanine. there had been a roadblock between them for some time, especially when dante was upset just after vergil fell to hell ; the bond between them did get better and after mallet island while it became strained . . the secondary pokemon didn’t blame dante for what he had done.

it mourned with him, feeling the pain and loss with the shared empathy and it was then the lucario ( or whatever pokemon partner vergil had ig ) telepathically communicated the forgiveness and it was then that dante and it’s bond grew to be greater than before.

dante does have a full team of six – seven including vergil’s own partner who, with ace, stay clear of pokeballs 95% of the time. the team took a bit of time to make since he running all over the place doing what he usually does – demon hunting – but he does have a full team. dante doesn’t do competitive battling as of right now even though he used to for a time and won three small scale championships. currently with his team he’s out and about on jobs getting rid of demons like in original canon.

the full team is as follows:

zoroarck ; nicknamed zoro or z with the move set: dark pulse, night slash, nasty plot and protect. he originally found zoro in its disguised form of a child when he was passing through. with the child, to dante at least, seeming to be lost dante had put it upon himself to help them out. both got into a spot of trouble and the little pokemon gave up disguise to try and protect – only for dante’s arcanine to protect the little zorua and keep it safe. in the end, the zorua became close to dante and ended up on dante’s team and evolved into the powerful and loyal zoroarck once it reached level.

cubone ; nicknamed c and otherwise doesn’t like nicknames with the move set: bone rush, head butt, growl and thrash. c is past the level needed to evolve into a marowak by far, it’s stayed as it is. the two have gone through quite a lot, especially since the cubone was the second pokemon dante ever caught. it was with him during vergil’s fall, it was with him during the supposed murder of vergil and it refused. dante and the cubone have both grown as a team and have helped each other through their trauma. dante with the lil’ guy’s mourning of its mother and keeping the tyke comfortable during full moon’s and c with dante’s own loss. it never needed to be something bigger – its always been there for dante in its original ‘guise and it will continue to do so.

mega blaziken ; nickname blaze or b with the move set: high jump kick, sky uppercut, focus energy and flare blitz. dante found the blaziken before its mega evolution once again on his travels and this bond is mainly forged out of mutual respect – and loyalty. originally found by chance – and put to a battle, blaze had been a tough opponent for ace to begin with but dante had put a pause to the battle. with the blaziken’s moves mainly been fighting based rather than using fire against opponent . . dante decided to spar with the pokemon. caught by surprise but not backing down, the pokemon took up the challenge – losing just by a hair. it held a touch of honor by its loss and wished to join ranks ; become part of dante’s team in hopes of a rematch down the line. there’s loyalty between the two and genuine camaraderie between blaze and dante.

talonflame ; nickname fletch or t with the move set: brave bird, me first, roost and flame charge. originally found by ace by chance at its lowest evolution ( fletchling ) when it had an injured wing in the middle of forest nowhere close to civilization, dante worked his best to nurse it back to health. currently on a job which would have taken longer if he turned back to get proper help, he had decided to bring the bird with him. ace had left the meeting with a rough talon scratch to his nose but all was well besides that. as it went and by the time the job was complete the wing had all been healed with what little potions and remedies dante had on him. he wasn’t sure if the lil thing would survive but he was damnest sure to try his best. thankful for the help fletch stuck around, becoming dante’s pokemon and usually preferring to stay out of pokeball to fly and scout ahead during any hunts or simple trips – she’s good at bringing down lesser demons with her talons, picking them up and dropping them to their death from great heights.

mega houndoom ; nickname doom or hound with the move set: payback, fire charge, feint attack and howl. originally found in wild, dante had a stereotypical catch with the pup and it was only afterward that that a bond was formed. with houndour’s existing in packs and show unparalleled teamwork, the pup grew to find the team as its pack and family over time. coming to trust dante over watching his trainer’s care for them all to be equal and worry about them the same it gave the same back. fiercely loyal to dante and unwilling to abandon a team member, instead choosing to fight and protect them as their family. out of pokeball the fierce houndoom is bound to be close to dante or bothering ace at any given opportunity, wishing to play - fight with its new found family. it wouldn’t give them up for anything.

#🔥 // those odds ? hit the jackpot with those ! ( meme replies )#🔥 // understood family becoming alive. help and protect each other to be the best companion to ever be ( pokemon au )#🔥 // i'm here because a jackass devil dragged me in kicking and screaming. howdy demons its ya boy ! ( mun )

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faveficarchive · 5 years

Text

Venezia

By Vivian "Mambo Italiano" Darkbloom

Pairing: Mel/Janice

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: In the third installment of Vivian Darkbloom’s Mel/Janice series, Mel travels to Venice to mourn, and to remember.

You will come in any case, so why not now? Life is very hard: I'm waiting for you. I have turned off the lights and thrown the door wide open For you, so simple and so marvelous. Take on any form you like.

—Anna Akhmatova, from "Requiem"

1969

The map flutters in Mel's grasp; the autumn wind twirls the corners, soft with age.

She knows this much: She is on the Fondamente Nuove, it is late afternoon and the low sunlight slashes across her sight - she blinks, even the dark sunglasses can barely restrain the power of Italian light - and all the whores, male and female, are staring at her boldly. The women and girls are curious, and the boys eager for her to pick one of them, for they are certain it is a man she wants.

She wants nothing. She's not even certain how she has managed to wander all the way from Piazza San Marco to this, the city's edge. But, like the past five years, everything is a black blur. She tucks the map away into a pocket of her skirt, and walks along a boardwalk. A young man leans against a railing, watching her appreciatively. He is too well-dressed to be a prostitute, unlike many of the people loitering in this particular location; he carries a leather satchel brimming with books and papers. Occasionally she feels his dark eyes on her - but then he looks away, frowning, perhaps contemplating what he could say to her, a worldly, older woman, that would suitably impress her. It is vaguely flattering that others still find her attractive; her dark hair is threaded with some gray, but her figure is still impressive, and few wrinkles crease her handsome face. In her youth, compliments were pleasing yet hardly unexpected. Now they feel truly meaningless.

Dead inside. She closes her eyes. Some days were better than others. Some days she did not feel death pulling at her, did not want to put Janice Covington's .38 pistol to her head and pull the trigger, did not want to throw herself out a window or into an ocean, did not want to cry herself to sleep and pray that she would never wake.

It is not one of those days.

Why? Why did I come back here? I should have stayed in Tuscany, I should have gotten on a train in the opposite direction. The reasons were tangled up in masochistic desire and flawed logic. Come back here, where you spent a "honeymoon" of sorts...where she gave you a ring, where she said she would never leave again, where you were happy. That was...1948. The trip had filled her with expectations; she had not been in the country, let alone Venice, since she was a teenager: How had the war changed everything? Would a certain café still exist? What buildings were destroyed or lost? Would Janice get seasick and throw up in a gondola? She still remembered, vividly, the look of disgust on Janice's face as she first peered into the murky waters of the Grand Canal, from a vantage point on the Rialto Bridge. "Isn't it wonderful?" she had gushed.

"It stinks," Janice retorted, her compact nose scrunched in sensory horror.

"You'll love it," Mel had assured her.

"I love you," Janice had replied, face alit with the reflected light of the water.

Mel had dropped her head in a happy blush, staring at the stones of the bridge, dark and damp, slowly curving, glistening. It looked like an elephant's back.

"Still can't get used to it, huh?" Janice remarked wryly, with a silly grin that indicated she, too, had not adjusted to the concept: They were alive, the war was over, they were in love. So many things had gotten in the way before. But then, it was just them. History was forgotten. They were in Venice on another holy-grail search for a scroll - a lead had emerged, about an Italian nobleman who had possessed one during the war - but time seemed languorous, and this business was secondary, as was the archaeology conference they were attending.

Idiot, she berates herself. You drag yourself here, knowing it's Venice, knowing it's where you were the happiest with her...what did you expect?

I thought it might make me feel better somehow.

You damned fool.

"Signora?" the boy says.

It pulls her out of the darkness. She stares at him, startled.

"Are you not cold?" he asks in Italian.

"No, thank you, I'm fine," she responds, voice low and polite.

Many years of living both abroad and in the Northern United States has tamed Mel's accent, despite occasional terms of residence in the South; nonetheless, it lingers lightly in her speech, like a delicate perfume, and the alert young man can detect it even through her impeccable, impressive Italian.

"You're not Italian!" he exclaims.

She smiles weakly. "No."

"British?" he ventures.

"American," she supplies absently, watching the water.

He is surprised. "Really? All Americans are fat and ugly, and wear bad clothes, no?"

"Not quite," she corrects gently.

She looks away from him, in the other direction. Down the long boardwalk.

"You are on a vacation, then?" he asks. He leans closer to her, the wind battering the brown curls of his long hair. Young men have long hair now, Mel thinks. She can't quite get used to it. She feels the pressure build up in her skull again. A headache. She is tired, so very tired, of other people's conversation. Of questions. The same old questions. Who are you, where are you from, why are you here? Everything possessed a repetitive quality that once upon a time soothed her, assuaged her, even amused her - the patterns of a life. Now? It bores her, exasperates her. Makes her envision the mystery of death. And just what is it about Venice and death, she mused. Now there's a book I haven't read in years. How depressing it was.

Janice, of course, never had time to read novels. Or so she claimed. She would rather watch a baseball game, drink a beer, mow the lawn.... How did we stay together as long as we did without killing each other?

His hand shifts along the leather strap of his bag, and the movement draws her back into the present.

"You are very far away." His voice is grave and his smile slight.

"Si," she murmurs.

"If," he begins cautiously, "you would like to stay in this world for a while..."

She looks at him in surprise.

"...I would like to buy you a drink."

Silly, she thinks, it's silly to assume that simply because he is young enough to be her son, that he cannot detect these things: a sorrow that hangs about her like a cloak. Like dirt.

Wouldn't it be nice to be among the young? The living? You're still alive, Melinda.

Again, she looks off down the boardwalk. She yearns to move. The fever of wandering has consumed her for many years. Somehow - perhaps in a kiss, or a touch - Janice transferred that desire to her. The golden-haired archaeologist was never one for settling down for long. Even standing still, or asleep, her body shimmered with motion, a barely restrained vibration...each way free, to quote Herrick.

Oh, how that glittering taketh me.

"Perhaps..." she manages, and he stands straighter in happy anticipation. "Perhaps another time."

He bows his head, a respectful gesture, gathers up his easy smile and slightly wounded amour propre, and leaves, quietly bidding her a good evening.

She stands alone for a few more minutes, then heads in the direction of the waning sun.

Is it too early to go back to the hotel? she wonders. Do they all think she is strange, because she leaves before daybreak and returns before dusk, just when the city begins to live, and always alone? Who the hell cares?

After many years of living with Covington, the swearing comes naturally. If only in her thoughts.

Four women are clustered around a bench. Two are dressed in garish miniskirts and ludicrously patterned tops that reveal bare midriffs, another is dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, and the last one, sitting atop the back of the bench, is obscured from Mel's view. But a corona of orange light catches her eye, and she slows her pace as she starts to walk by. And stops.

A girl, about 16 or 17, is perched among these older females. She is obviously entertaining her friends with a story, and her rapid, slangy Italian and heavy Venetian dialect render it almost impossible for Mel to understand what she is saying. Not that she cares. The language washes over her in its familiar currents and eddies as she stares in disbelief: The girl looks almost exactly like Janice Covington - a very young Janice, as when she and Mel first met. The youth of that face....It had been her very first thought upon that fateful meeting, almost 30 years ago, when the notorious Dr. Covington stuck a gun in her face: Dear Lord, she looks like she's 18 if a day.

It is uncanny. The hair the same burnished gold, the tanned skin, the smile, the eyes.

Her pulse thuds, its beat almost deafening - in the roar of blood her sanity swims, flailing, her heart drowning. She closes her eyes for a moment, willing the mirage to disappear. She pulls off the sunglasses and lays a hand across her face, the cold dampness of a palm meeting a hot, dry cheek.

Through the sliver of two fingers, framing the scene like a camera, Mel sees them all staring at her, the young girl who resembles Janice right in the middle. Madness. Her fingers close, shuttering off the image.

I can't. I won't. The urge - to die, to scream, to run, to do something - is choking her.

High heels nicker rhythmically across the pavement, growing louder until she senses a presence. "Signora?" A husky female voice demands her attention.

Mel allows her hand to slide down her face. One of the women from the bench is in front of her, a brunette, slathered in makeup, day-old mascara clinging stubbornly to the slender stalks of eyelashes, the brown eyes dark and hard, yet oddly sympathetic. Unbidden, the thought occurs to Mel that the prostitute resembles a man trying - and failing miserably - to impersonate Maria Callas.

"Are you all right?" the woman asks solicitously, in Italian. "Would you like to sit down?"

Mel's eyes dart nervously over to the bench, to the girl, who stares at her with blatant curiosity, unlike the others, who mask their interest with looks of disdain.

"No," Mel blurts. She won't permit herself to get too close.

The whore touches her arm. "Please, you are as pale as snow. You must be ill. Come sit on the bench. We'll move." She snares Mel's arm and, before Mel can dig in her heels like a stubborn mare, steers the tall Southerner over to the others. "Francesca! Move your fat ass!" she barks at the golden-haired girl, who immediately jumps off the back of the bench.

Francesca. She is about Janice's height, perhaps an inch taller, wearing a t-shirt with brown and blue stripes, ragged, cut-off denim shorts, her bare feet jammed into brown, hippie-ish leather sandals. As Mel walks to the bench she stops and stares at the girl, who returns her frank interest with pale, gray-green eyes.

No sooner is she sitting on the bench than the dark-haired whore claps a rough hand across Mel's forehead. "Si, you are feverish!" she declares.

"Signora," coos another woman - a platinum blonde - in venomous teasing, "I swear, we have not seen your husband!" The third, a girl in blue jeans, closer to Francesca's age and with mousy brown hair, laughs.

Francesca continues to stare at Mel, a smile on her lips and puzzlement in her eyes, as she hesitates to join her friends in the teasing.

"Ah, shut up," grunts the brunette, who is fussing over Mel as if she is a child. "Can't you see, something is wrong? Signora, do you need anything? Some water? Some aspirin?"

"Dottore Sofia!" crows the fake blonde.

Finally, Mel manages to speak. "Please, I will be fine. I am only a little tired."

"If you are looking for the boys, they are further down," the blonde says to her, pointing in the direction from which Mel came. They laugh again, save for Francesca and Sofia.

Mel extracts a handkerchief from her purse and mops her brow with it. "I don't want a boy," she mutters, more to herself than the others.

Sofia has heard her, however. And raises an eyebrow. "Well," she asks ingenuously, "what do you want?"

"I don't want anything," she replies perfunctorily. Nonetheless her gaze is riveted to the young, tanned woman. Oh, don't look....But she is helpless.

Francesca is smiling at her. Almost as if she knows. Impossible. Or is it?

Mel hangs her head in acute embarrassment.

But it is too late. The look has passed between them - an acknowledgment of desire, an offering of services - and the raven-haired whore has caught it. Her overplucked eyebrows arch in surprise. "Well!" she drawls. And laughs.

It takes a moment for the others to catch on. "Mamma mia!" shrieks the platinum blonde.

"The English are so funny that way. Both the men and women, I guess," the brown-haired girl observes philosophically.

Mel neglects to correct the mistake in her nationality, as Francesca feigns surprise, coquettishly touching her chest in mock disbelief. "Me?" she squeaks. The women titter nervously.

You? I've spent the past five years looking at your face embodied in old photographs, yearning to hear your voice again, your laugh, missing your touch, your kiss, the smell of your body...the feel of you, lying across me...the leather, the cigars, the cigarettes, the teasing, your hair upon a pillow, the way you would caress an old book, the taste of bourbon on your lips, seeing you throw a baseball, pitch a tent, wield a pick ax, fix a car, argue with me, cry on my shoulder, give yourself to me....you said once that if you ever left me again, you would surely come back.

But it's not you, is it, Janice?

The apparition - no, you fool, she is real, dear God, she is real - resembling her lover smiles, a lascivious, cocky grin, and knowingly folds her arms over her chest.

"No, not for that," Mel says quickly. Liar!

Francesca raises an eyebrow expectantly.

"Just to talk," Mel says.

The raucous laughter of all four women is almost deafening.

"Talk, eh?" Sofia finally gasps through her giggle fit. "It still costs the same, Signora...no, wait..." - she raises a hand imperiously, making it up as she goes along - "it's double, since this is a special situation."

Mel shrugs. She knows whatever the price is, she can afford it. What the hell are you doing? a niggling voice intrudes on her thoughts. Buying a prostitute? Are you insane?

Just...to be with her a little. That's all, she reassures herself - and the demanding voice.

But, like a car crash, the situation has escalated quickly into something beyond her control, something she has not really thought about. All she knows is that she wants to spend time with the girl. Suddenly, she does not want to be alone.

"Well, Francesca, what do you think?" Sofia asks. The brunette frankly inspects Mel with her eyes. "She is good-looking, obviously has money and" - she bends down and quickly sniffs with comical loudness at Mel's hair and the nape of her neck - "she is clean. I don't think you'll do much better than this."

While Mel is not exactly experienced in this type of interaction, she wonders if, perhaps, it is a little unusual for the buyer to be scrutinized by the product.

Francesca's mouth is an o of wonder, as if she too cannot believe the rapid transaction, which belies the super-confident facade she wore just a moment ago. She can't have done this very often, Mel thinks. Or rather, hopes. The young woman pauses, shifting her weight on to one hip, and somehow manages to stuff her hands into the tight pockets of her shorts. "All right," she says softly.

The deed is done. Mel blinks, as if waking from some strange dream. Her head is swimming in the low sunlight.

Sofia holds out a hand, wiggling the fingers almost obscenely; the whore with a heart of gold is replaced by the practical businesswoman. "100,000 lire," she demands.

***

Sunset. The sky is violet, rent through with scarlet and orange, like a wound.

"For someone who wants to talk, you do not say much," Francesca says, in slow yet precise English, breaking the silence.

Mel raises an eyebrow. "You speak English." And rather well, at that. She studies the profile, so astonishingly familiar, and shudders at the sudden ache to touch the bow-shaped lips, remembers all too well the way that Janice, eyes closed, sighing, would take fingers into her mouth, a gesture of delicious surrender. What else do you do well? Tell me.

"Yes, I do. We can speak in English, if that is okay with you. I like to practice." The girl's accent is pleasingly heavy, the rolling vowels hanging off her tongue, threatening to fall from her speech like ripe pears.

"That's fine," Mel says.

"But please, do not misunderstand. Your Italian is very good."

"Thank you."

Suddenly, the whore stops walking. "Why?" Francesca blurts.

Mel too stops, and looks at her. "Why what?" Her voice is hoarse, roughened by desire and the jagged bits of her heart.

The young woman's brows collide as she attempts to undo Mel with the power of her gaze. "Why do you want to...'talk' to me?"

It almost works. "You remind me of someone."

She watches as the girl processes this, her body restless in her movements, the motion of youth. "Tell me more," she says softly, eagerly, as if anticipating some fantastic story.

We did have a wonderful life together, didn't we? We had a story to tell. It wasn't just the story of Gabrielle and Xena, it encompassed so much more.

"Perhaps later." Mel glances away, then starts to walk again. Francesca catches up with her, and they fall into step together.

"We go to your hotel?"

"Yes." Mel studiously ignores looking at the young woman, and her gaze remains fixed on the pace of her shoes along the cobblestones. What are you doing? Tell her to go away!

Francesca takes the awkward tension streaming off of Mel as inexperience. "Do not worry," she proclaims, touching Mel's hand gently, "I have done this before."

The tall woman flinches as the fingers brush her knuckles, then hopes the whore hasn't noticed. As the words settle in, she looks at Francesca in surprise. "You've..."

"With a woman? Si. Sofia taught me everything," she replies with pride, as if Sofia were Sappho herself.

"I...see." Mel pauses, flustered. "We aren't going to do anything. Just..."

"Talk?" the young woman responds, with a wry smile. "Whatever you want. I am yours for the night," she says in the tone of an indulgent parent.

The street is filled with stores, restaurants, and people. Francesca stops walking, and touches Mel's arm. "Wait here," the girl says, and darts quickly through the crowd.

Mel feels a stab of panic. Was she being deserted? Had the girl decided it was all too much, too strange, she didn't want to go through with it? It's for the best. Stupidly, she stands there for a few minutes, passers-by jostling her, until she catches sight of the coppery head moving through the crowd and toward her.

Francesca holds a brown paper bag shaped like a bottle. "Andiamo," she says. Mel nods. As they walk down the street, she tries to combat the jolt of surprise and desire as the young woman takes her hand. The warmth is overwhelming; to be touched again is like a drug. But she fights it, perversely, wanting to luxuriate in it and yet not trusting it, not wanting it...unless it was Janice. But that's impossible.

"Does this bother you?" Francesca asks.

"No," Mel lies tightly.

"Yes, it does." The girl chuckles. "Do not worry. Everyone will think you are my mother."

The reminder of her age is annoying to the older woman. "We don't really look alike."

"Tell them I look like papa," retorts the whore.

Mel says nothing as a blush travels along her face.

The facade of the Hotel Cavalletto becomes visible, a brilliant ochre shining even more ostentatiously in the fading light. Mel takes a deep breath as the door is held open for her and she sails in, relying on the drama of her height, her bearing, and her still considerable beauty to distract anyone from the fact that a young, raggedly woman is trailing in her wake and following her to the elevator. But the concierge, loitering discreetly nearby, bars Francesca with his arm. Mel turns sharply once she feels the girl is no longer on her heels.

The concierge is about to read the riot act (or its Italian equivalent) to the young prostitute, when Mel says, in clipped tones, "É con me."

She is with me. His eyebrows shoot up. He looks at Francesca is disbelief; this little hippie-slut? He recovers, nods, and allows Francesca to follow.

In the elevator, the girl giggles. Mel is mortified. It's not too late, a voice warns inside her, as the door opens and they walk down the still corridor.

Her hands shake as she removes the key from her pocket and unlocks the door to her room, all the time aware of the girl's green eyes on her. It is ludicrous, she thinks, bringing a common prostitute here. And an underage one at that. She looks quickly at Francesca, who delivers a voracious, lusty grin on cue. Crinkles deepen around her eyes, lines that - she's not even sure anymore and it pains her - Janice probably didn't have until she hit her 40s. You are far too young to have those kinds of wrinkles. A memory comes to mind, of the last excavation: Janice, tilting her hat back, squinting in the sun, laughing with Fayed, the foreman. Her hair still golden. She had often teased Mel about that - the fact that the black-haired translator had gone gray and she hadn't. The gray hairs had appeared the year that dreadful movie came out - the cartoon about the Dalmatians - and Janice had made some remark about Mel resembling the film's villainess, Cruella DeVille. There had been "Southern-fried hell to pay" (as Janice phrased it) after that comment.

The room is large and airy, simple and elegant, with tones of red and gold. The hotel's literature refers to it as "classically Venetian, with hints of Orientalism." Mel has no idea what it means. She drops her purse on a table, and turns to the girl, hand extended. Wordlessly, as she gawks around the room, Francesca hands the bottle to Mel.

Mel sheds the skin of the unknown bottle in her grasp. It is bourbon, the Covington drink of choice. She doesn't know whether to laugh, cry, or smash the bottle and draw a broken shard across her wrists. Unbidden, an image of the chakram slicing a throat flashes in her mind. Not me. Ironic. After so many years, Janice became comfortable with the idea of being the bard's descendent. But I, more than ever, fought against my own lineage. Xena.

"Bore-bom," says the young whore. "You like?"

I'm not a killer. I'm not a heroine. But I am a wanderer.

She hates whiskey of all kinds. But Janice....hadn't it all started with a bottle of the stuff, that bottle of Bushmill's that Janice half-consumed at her house? "Fine." Mel feigns casualness. She sits the bottle on the table. A phone call downstairs will yield a bucket of ice and glasses within five minutes. As she cradles the phone receiver against her shoulder, Mel watches the girl prowl around the room, restless, taking in everything, from the tasteful framed prints, to the new couch, the expensive rug, the mahogany sitting table. Francesca is half in awe, yet half outraged that such extravagant living is the province of very few. Janice was like that too, but she usually managed to deflect how impressed she was with her smart-ass remarks. Jesus, Mel, another dump!

A knock at the door announces the arrival of the ice and tumblers. With a grunt and a quick tip, the bellboy disappears. Mel prepares the drink automatically, having done so countless times for her lover, without thinking to ask how Francesca really takes it. But the whore says nothing as she offers the drink; she accepts it gratefully and downs it in one gulp. "Bah!" Francesca cries with hoarse enjoyment, eyes watering. "I hate it so much I like it."

What else do you feel that way about? Mel sips at her drink. The girl laughs at her. "Come, you are not an old lady. Drink like a real person."

Well, the sooner it's over with, the better. She shrugs. She pitches the drink down her throat, the burning trail contrasting neatly with the ice cubes pressed against her lips. She almost gags at the taste; experiencing the flavor via the alchemy of Janice's mouth had been much more enjoyable - the hot power of the alcohol held a sweetness it lacked otherwise.

"What is your name?" Francesca asks.

"Melinda."

"Bella. Bee-you-tee-fool." She drawled the English word comically and smiled flirtatiously. "Like you."

For the first time in years - probably since the early years of her involvement with Janice - Mel ducks her head in embarrassment at a compliment. "You don't have to flatter me," she mutters.

"Che cosa?"

The blue eyes look up at her sharply. "I said you don't have to talk to me like that."

"Silly. You do not like when people say nice things to you?"

The older woman glowers at her, resisting the charm.

"Merda, lady. Please don't act like people never say, 'Ah, Melinda! She is lovely!' " In mock melodramatics, Francesca flings a forearm against her face. "She blinds me with her beauty!"

In spite of it all, Mel grins and chuckles. "Now who's being silly?"

"Me. I am always silly. My brother says so."

"Your brother?"

"Si. He works at a cafe. Ottavio." Mel is uncertain for a moment, not knowing if she is referring to her brother or the place where he works. But the girl smiles wistfully, and Mel realizes it's the name of the brother. "We save money, together. We want to start a café of our own. Soon."

Mel sits, gestures for the girl to do the same, but Francesca remains standing, leaning against the mantelpiece, staring off into space. "This is why I do what I do," she murmurs, almost to herself, as a reassurance, a prayer.

"There are other things you could do," Mel counters.

The girl snorts derisively. "Not for this kind of money." Uncomfortable, she decides to turn the focus on Mel, and does so with unerring tactlessness. "You always fuck women, yes?"

The glass, beaded with moisture, slips in Mel's hands, but she recovers just in time to prevent it crashing to the floor, and tightens her grip accordingly. "You're very blunt," she replies, avoiding the question.

"Scuzi?"

Mel sighs and ransacks her weary mind for an appropriate translation. "Esplicito." That'll do, she thinks.

"I do not mean to offend you." Francesca relents in her brute assault as an apologetic tone creeps into her voice. "I am curious."

Mel clears her throat nervously, feeling as if she is being interrogated by the IRS. "It's all right. Yes, I've made love to women before." Do I get a deduction for that?

"Ah. And men? Have you ever - "

"No," responds Mel. "Close, but no cigar."

"Cosa...?" Francesca frowns again, as her limited English rubs up against yet another strange expression.

"Never mind." She sits the glass on the end table. Their eyes meet. Involuntarily, she feels her lips part, her mouth hanging open in disbelief; it's a silent cry, an ache that this doppelganger has brought and laid at her feet, like an offering. For Francesca stands, hand on a jutting hip, in a pose so reminiscent of Janice she cannot believe it to be true. Right down to the sunset-colored hair and the clear eyes, as pure as morning light.

The girl knows - she has been told so many times by Sofia - that while it is acceptable to feel a fondness for certain customers, one cannot afford to grow seriously attached to any. She is soft-hearted; Sofia knows this, hence the volume and hysteria of the warnings. And Francesca, thus far, has heeded the advice of her mentor. But she does feel an empathy for this tall, lovely woman who sits in front her, almost crying, an emotion she has never quite experienced with any customer before. She feels an awe at the power of the love that brings this proud, aristocratic woman to the brink of tears, that made her buy a bucaiola, that makes her beautiful blue eyes flash with pain and remembrance. It is a mystery. She wants to know the woman's story. "What is it about me...?" the whore begins slowly, in a gentle, wondrous voice.

"You..." Mel drops her head, cannot say anything further.

"I look like someone you know." She takes a step toward Mel. "Someone you loved, si?"

"Yes." The Southerner cannot believe the raw, husky tone to be her own voice.

Another step. "Did she not love you back?"

"No, no, she did. But now she's gone."

"Gone?" the young woman echoes. She is now sitting on the arm of the chair, and Mel can feel the heat of her body, can smell the sun in her hair and clothes.

Mel finally looks up at her. "Don't ask me any more questions. I can't -"

She is silenced by the woman's hand on her face, the fingertips mapping the lines of her jaw, still strong and firm, her touch traveling and dipping into the shadows along her neck. Mel's breath buffets the thumb that lingers near her lips. The fact that she is feeling something - desire - other than pain is a temporary haven, but she remembers the one she wanted so long ago - and still wants. The tears that have been perched on the edge of release for the past hour or so finally fall. She is crying as the girl crawls into her lap and proceeds to catch the shimmering drops with both fingers and mouth.

Francesca is going shhh, soothing her like a child, kissing her forehead and pulling her against a breast, so that her wet face soaks the striped t-shirt.

"Mel?"

Was it 24 years ago?

"Am I alive?"

She had barely managed a response before starting to cry, rising from the chair but then falling to her knees on the floor next to Janice's bed, hating herself for being weak and breaking down as she gasped and sobbed into the white sheets, her body heaving convulsively. Janice's strong fingers burrowed into her hair, her husky, lovely voice saying over and over again: "Mel. Mel. Melinda. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

The kiss is uncertain, feeling all the more intimate for its delicacy, the fragile brushing of lips. The next one is stronger, as is the one that follows after that. Mel arches into it, tasting the bourbon and the salt of her own tears.

I'm here.

***

Morning is revealed gradually, like a gauze bandage stripped away from her senses. First, the sounds of the street below, the ever-present lull of the water, the loud cries and the songs of the gondoliers, a church bell, other voices, ghost-like, on the wind. Then, Mel grows aware of the body next to her, the deep breathing, the warm skin.

She opens her eyes, utterly unbelieving. The girl is curled fetally, clutching a spare pillow. Nude, of course. As is she. And if any doubts remain concerning what activities occurred during the night - the smell of sex, the wetness between her legs, the ache of unused muscles, and the violently twisted sheets dispatch them with alacrity.

Mel tries to sit up for a moment, then falls back onto the pillow. "Oh, God," she moans aloud. That particular quality of morning - the brightness that discounts the night's mysterious elements, the bluntness that can reveal details harshly - has a bracing effect, like cold water splashing her face. You are a middle-aged woman in bed with a teenaged prostitute. Probably the most deplorable thing you've ever done in your life. This is the stuff that scandals are made of.

But it felt good, didn't it?

She examines the bronzed back just within her reach. Slowly, as if fighting the urge to touch, she reaches out and lets her fingers brush against the firm, warm flesh. This skin, this body, was all so similar to the one she slept beside for twenty years. Similar, but not the same. The curves are softer, the arms and shoulders lacking the hard muscles lurking underneath the tan. Her hand wanders and traces imaginary lines along the bare thigh. Here, Mel thinks, the pads of her fingers gliding over an unmarred expanse of skin, was where Janice had two jagged, intersecting scars, from gunshot wounds during the war. Another scar on the leg from an SS dagger. And here - her fingers continue their journey down, beyond the knee to the calf - is where she broke her leg, falling out of the back of a truck, in Morocco, in 1938. (And Harry had told her - how many times? - never stand up in moving vehicle.)

And on the stomach - eluding the time travel of her fingertips - was a souvenir of a near-fatal bullet wound. The war and its generous bounty. The scars that never went away, the cries from dreams that plagued her in the night. Mel slides her palm along the upper arm. And here was a razor-thin white scar, from falling rocks during a tunnel excavation in 1956. Her gaze falls to the hands - young and uncalloused - clutching a pillow. Two fingers on Janice's left hand had been slightly crooked, having been broken, and one knuckle permanently flattened below the skin's surface - courtesy of a knockout punch delivered to a Belgian archaeologist during a conference - Where was it? London? Cairo? No, Amsterdam. 1951. The unlucky young man had insisted that Xena was a mere myth, created by a "society of matriarchal wanderers" - in a word, Amazons. It would have been fine had he stopped there - she and Janice were not so rigid that they did not respect someone else's right to believe otherwise - but a certain lewd comment directed at the archaeologist had prompted Mel to throw her drink (mineral water with lime) in his face. Outraged, he had slapped the translator, not hard, and didn't see the fist flying at him from the little blonde he coveted.

Afterwards, in the taxi heading to the hospital, Janice was elated, relaxed, as she usually was after a fight, and Mel was sullen, guilty, at having started one. Can't blame this one on me entirely, Mel.

Even with broken bones and threats of imprisonment (the Belgian was quite annoying and relentless about pressing charges), they still made love, quick and laughing, back at the hotel, before a reception.

Five years without sex. Without this pleasure. After spending twenty years with someone, where hardly a week went by....Except on the digs. She smiles at the memory: No fucking around during a dig, Janice had declared. Or we'll jinx it. That was her superstition. All the weapons in Mel's arsenal seemed powerless against this irrationality: She tried a different perfume, oysters, a tight black slip (which, she was happy to note, almost did the trick), various garter belts....But to her immense surprise Janice did not cave in.

"Dames are always trouble on site." Janice would mindlessly recite the questionable wisdom of her father while conveniently neglecting the irreversible fact that she herself was a "dame."

"We met on site," Mel would mumble the protest, her eager tongue boxing an earlobe, her hands grappling with a belt buckle, before Janice would skitter away from her attentions.

"Sure we did. And look what happened. We resurrected an evil god and almost got killed."

It wasn't until much later when the archaeologist admitted another motivating factor: fear of getting caught by one of the workers. And, in a Muslim nation (where they were, most of the time), it wouldn't be a mere small scandal, or tacitly accepted.

Reluctantly, Mel rises. A sense of shame burns through her, something she hasn't felt in years. She whips her robe around her nude form, the familiar coolness of the satin soothing. Her legs feel unsteady and there is a faint throbbing at her temple - am I really such an old ninny that a glass of bourbon has made me hung over?

She indulges in a long shower. She washes carefully, thinking that the traces of last night are riding a whirlpool into the drain. But there is a slight soreness between her legs that she will keep as a reminder of the night. The ache blends seamlessly into pleasure and roams an emptiness inside her. She had encouraged the girl thus: Harder. Faster. Deeper. Sometimes in Italian, sometimes not.

Afterwards, as she dries off, a sudden fear hits her as she towels her hair. It takes the form of a practical voice, sounding like Janice: Let's see here, now...You left a strange prostitute alone in your room, with your cash, your passport, your watch, your ring....

Her toes clench the soft mat under her damp feet.

That wasn't smart, sweetheart.

It isn't that she truly cares about the money, or even the passport for that matter - the latter, she knows from experience, can be replaced soon enough. The Cartier watch, however, is old, and had been a gift from her father, and the ring, its Celtic whorls mimicking the design of Xena's armor, was, of course, from Janice. Maybe I can't marry you, but I can give you a goddamn ring at least. That's not a crime.

She throws the robe back on. With a concerted effort to appear neither melodramatic nor accusing, yet nonetheless failing, she flings open the bathroom door and stalks into the room.

Francesca sits, naked and cross-legged, in the middle of the bed, consuming the hotel's complimentary bowl of fruit. A banana skin lies near the soft, wrinkled bottom of one foot. Bits of orange peels are scattered in the bed, like blossoms. At Mel's sudden entrance she looks up, alarmed, but then, very matter-of-fact, slides a slice of orange into her mouth. She chews while watching Mel very intently, expectantly. She swipes her mouth with the back of her arm.

With some relief, the older woman notes that the watch and ring are still on the nightstand, where she had placed them last evening. After removing the watch Francesca had snared her arm and wetly kissed the pale band of skin, sucking gently, as if attempting to undo the tangle of veins pulsing within.

Her wrist tingles at the memory.

"I'm very hungry," the girl declares.

A light-headedness overtakes Mel. She feels giddy, perhaps because of how unreal the situation appears, how funny, and how strange it all seems. And, at the same time, how very like Janice this girl was acting. "I'll buy you breakfast," she replies.

"Thank you." They continue to stare at each other. Francesca then consumes the final orange slice. "You enjoyed what we did during the night?" She smirks; her lips glisten.

"Couldn't you tell?"

"I like to hear."

"Well, I...yes."

"Yet you run away this morning. Are you in a hurry?"

"No," Mel admits.

"But you feel bad. You wanted to wash it all away." Francesca shrugs. "Many are like that. It is okay, I understand."

But I want more.

A wry, knowing smile pulls at the girl's lips. She lies back, propping herself up on an elbow, casually displaying her body: the firm breasts, the smooth, slightly rounded stomach, the sex camouflaged by a triangle of curled golden hair. "So you are clean now." She sounds amused.

"Si." Mel feels lust crawling, prickling her skin, as her heartbeat picks up. She knows the desire is visible upon her face; apparently Janice Covington was not the only person who could read her like this.

"Do you want me to make you dirty again?" She is half-mocking, half-seductive.

Oh God, yes.

***

Still panting, she places her head against the taut belly, slick with sweat.

"Non sono io stesso." It seems apropos to say this - I am not myself - in a language not her own.

"But you said you have done this before," the girl says, breathless.

"Everything is not about sex. That wasn't what I was talking about."

"Tell me what you were talking about."

Mel wonders why the girl can't just relax...but this is business to her, no matter how pleasurable.

"You are very mysterious, Melinda." She feels the whore toying with her hair. "I think..." Francesca begins.

Mel looks up at her expectantly, letting her hand caress a hip in an absentminded, almost proprietary way.

"...Sofia did not teach me everything."

The translator laughs, and is inwardly amazed. How long has it been since I really laughed?

"You have many skills," the young woman says.

"Tell me about it," Mel murmurs, temporarily sated and happy, into the haven of tanned, soft skin. She knows enough about a woman's body to know that her young companion was not faking the orgasm.

Francesca slips out from under her gracefully; Mel lies back, and the girl straddles her. "I like you. You are different from the others."

"Ovviamente." Obviously.

"No, not that. But no one I fuck is concerned with my pleasure. Except you." The blonde grins. "You are nice, you are smart. You are not disgusting, like some old man."

No, I am a disgusting old woman. "Old man? You've done that?"

"Bah! Some old fascio. He makes me wear a German uniform. Tira seghe, I am paid much money, we are all happy." She shudders involuntarily. Mel frowns, unfamiliar with the expression, but too embarrassed to ask what it means; if it means what she thinks it means, then he...relieves himself. "I am glad I do not have to touch him."

Mel realizes that she is feeling relief - that the girl doesn't have to actually fuck the old coot. Why? Jealousy? Temporary insanity: She imagines trying to make a life with this girl. I am 53 years old, no doubt a good three times older than she. I know nothing about her.

She closes her eyes for a moment. Memory strips her of time, of age, but not of the name of the one she loves.

"Tell me again," Janice had urged in a whisper, body moving restlessly against her own, ceaselessly, as if trying to break the barrier of blood, skin, and muscle between them, and crawl inside her. The archaeologist's warm, damp face is pressed against Mel's cheek.

Her fingers strum across the small of the back, playing a glissando of silent exhilaration. She loves this part of Janice's body, the ridge of muscle poised and ready to plunge into the gentle swell of the hips. "Tell you what?" she asks, confused yet knowing she would say anything, do anything right now.

"What you said - in the doorway." Janice gasps. There is a thread of pleading in the tone, tangible to her, that she can grasp and follow through the maze of defenses and rejections, of harsh words, of other obstacles...to this heart, laid bare, not for taking, but for giving.

Earlier they had stood at the threshold to Mel's bedroom, and, not daring to confess her love quite yet, Mel had opted for another truth upon her lips and yearning for release.

And now she says it again. "You're beautiful, Janice."

In the dark she could feel the soft, fair brows clench, and the startling, cool splash of a tear. She could hear the catch in Janice's voice.

"Nobody's ever said that to me before."

How I hated the world for letting you think that, and how I loved that I was the first to tell you.

She opens her eyes, having fallen asleep. The girl is curled up against her, almost protectively; a slender, tanned arm is around her waist.

A faint rumbling vibrates against her. It is not snoring, but, pitched lower, in the abdomen. She knows it is not her own stomach; she abolished hunger long ago. At least I thought I had: Hunger for food, for living...maybe not the hunger for this.

She touches the crown of golden hair. Francesca jerks awake. "Ach!" she cries with a growl, stretching. "I am so hungry now." She twists in Mel's loose embrace, trails a hot tongue along the carotid artery that pulses in the translator's neck, earning a sharp gasp from Mel.

"You'll feed me," she murmurs to Mel, "then fuck me again."

"You're awfully fond of that word," Mel manages to respond. And so was Janice.

"What? Fuck? It is a good word. Fuck, fuck, fuck..." she chants it softly against Mel's ear.

Mel finds herself smiling. Certain elements of her admitted prissiness, her priggishness, went out the window years ago, along with common sense and her neatly ordered life, when she fell in love. "It is no longer night," Mel reminds the whore cautiously. My time has run out, hasn't it?

"Sofia charged you too much," Francesca intones solemnly.

"I see. Perhaps...if I am teaching you new things, then you should be paying me?" Mel retorts, deadpan.

The girl's eyes go wide. For a moment she tries to picture telling Sofia this. I had to pay her, Sofi...she really knew what she was doing, more than me.... knowing the older whore will slap her silly and chase her up and down the street, cursing worse than a blue-balled sailor...then she notices the mischievous glint in Mel's eyes. And she laughs.

Her laugh is something rough, voluptuous, full of life. Filthy, even. It is suitable to the city she lives in. The mistake that visitors always make is this: They assume the city courts death and decay, Mel thinks. It is easy to think that, within the marbled ruins, stained and old, the murky lagoons, the rotting canals. But among it all, life goes on, life is here. The ruins are here because they have survived; they are a testament to life. They live. I live.

The white curtain along the balcony door flutters. She strokes the young woman's cheek. In a few hours she will be alone again. She accepts this. It's the best she can do.

***

1948

The city had a deceptive stillness that unnerved Janice. She was well experienced in the rhythms of cities throughout the world, and always expected some sort of noise no matter what the hour, but this was odd: It was quiet, yet there was some perpetual undertone, a murmur that she could not identify.

It must be the canals, she thought. This was a city on the water. It was an island unto itself.

She balanced her chin on the edge of Mel's broad, smooth shoulder. The translator, still asleep, gave a slight moan. She smiled. It would be fun to wake her up - again - and make love - again - but as it was, Mel would only get a couple hours of sleep, and Janice wanted her to be at least coherent for the meeting tomorrow.

But temptation beckoned. She aimed a light, nipping kiss in between Mel's shoulder blades, striking a sensory bullseye - automatically a firm butt was ground into her thighs. Did Pavlov use a dog or a Southern woman? Janice grinned. What would happen with a higher kiss, at the back of the neck? Dr. Covington investigates! "Steak tartar," Mel mumbled. Obviously her companion had not recovered from the disappointment of not having dead cow for dinner - the café had no steaks. This is too easy. She slid out of the bed and threw on Mel's robe. So she carried her lover's scent with her - it was not enough to have it on her fingers, on her face, on her belly - as she went to the balcony.

The dawn was fair. The colors of the sunrise trickled across the sky. Birds swooped wildly in the sky with faint cries. I am happy, she thought. Would I dare admit that to anyone? She fingered the elaborate patterns of the scrolled, iron banister, one swirl leading into another, seemingly endless, a world leading into another world.

She hung over the railing, smiling. Even the canal was beginning to smell good to her. Or maybe it's just the bathrobe. The water appeared to mimic the motions of her fingers curling around the black edges of iron. With a free hand she pushed back her loose gold hair and watched, fascinated, the motion of the water, its mysterious swell, receding, then returning.

The End

#xena #xena warrior princess #mel/janice #mel/janice fanfiction #author: vivian darkbloom #mature #femslash #fanfiction

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mrjshahaharley · 5 years

Text

🍦ICE CREAM🍦

Loose cotton shorts and her spaghetti strap tank top did nothing to help with the summer heat that had creeped its way into the penthouse mid afternoon. The floor to ceiling windows were a nice detail that both her and Jay equally enjoyed. His reason for being able to see his ‘kingdom’ and hers a bit more sexually explicit.

The thought of their last encounter against the cool glass had a heat spread through her belly. A feeling Harley both welcomed and didn’t. Groaning she rolled out of bed, trying not to grimace at the way the silk sheets stuck to her skin. Normally she would go for the miss matched blue and pink house slippers that are placed along her side of the bed, but the cold tile of the kitchen floor that usually chilled her to the bone in the mornings wasn’t going to bother her so much right now.

Shuffling down the hall, she passed by Jay’s office, the door wide open, which was bit odd. So with her curiosity peaked, she poked her head in the doorway. She first saw Frost, dressed in his normal 3 piece suit standing to the left of Jay’s desk. She saw a bit of sweat collecting around the man’s temple, but knew he wouldn’t voice his discomfort.

Moving from Frost she immediately spotted Jay, he was standing up and looking down at what appeared to be a map or possibly a blueprint of something. He was wearing a pair of black slacks and nothing else. Looks like the heat was effecting him to.

That familiar burning feeling returned. If thinking about him could rev her engine. Then a visual stimulitent was on another level. She wasn’t sure how long she was staring, but when his bright green eyes connected with her baby blues she almost squeaked in surprise. She watched as his eyes roamed down and took in an eyeful of her legs. He may not have said it verbally, but from the attention he has placed on her legs in the past. She knew it was one of his many kinks.

Any other day she would have jumped him right then and there. He might try to deny her for a bit, but really he would eventually give in. He always spoiled her in that regard. But first things first.

Gesturing behind her in the direction of the kitchen she called out to him, “I’m getting some ice cream, ya want any Mr. J?”

She watched as he tapped his finger against his desk, his eyes still not moving away from her legs. Grinning she made a point to jut out her hip a bit more, really striking a pose for him.

After sometime his eyes finally moved back up to hers, then back to the blueprint on his desk. “Strawberry...”

Harley gave mock salute and then turned her attention to Frost. “ How ‘bout you Frosty?’”

“I’m fine Ms. Quinn, thank you.”

She shrugs and skips off to the kitchen. She had just sent one of the henchmen out the day before to get her three tubs of ice cream. Chocolate. Vanilla. And her puddin’s favorite Strawberry.

However when she opened the freezer her ice cream was no where to be found, frowning she tried looking in the fridge, because sometimes the guys Jay hired weren’t exactly the brightest. But she found that empty as well.

For the hell of it she tried the freezer again. Maybe she missed it. But she only saw the family sized bag of combination pizza rolls.

Her brows lowered and a deep frown slowly made its way to her face.

She remembered the henchmen coming back with the frozen treats, he said he would put it in the main fridge for her. But it wasn’t there. Which meant someone ate her ice cream.

Some eat her ice cream.

HER ice cream.

But also her PUDDIN’S ice cream.

Some asshole ate her PUDDIN’S STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM!

She slammed the freeze door in anger. “WHICH ONE OF UNGRATEFUL SON OF A BITCHES ATE THE GODDAMN ICE CREAM?!?!?”

Reaching towards the knife block, she pulled out the biggest blade available and stormed out of the Kitchen and straight for the door that lead down towards the second living quarters of the penthouse. Her, Jay and even Frost lived in the main quarters of the penthouse, where as the henchman stayed in the secondary area.

Brandishing the knife in front of her, she made sure to point at every single shocked face that she saw, “WHO WAS IT?!”

She was met with confused silence and that only caused her blood to boil even more. With a scream of rage and force that was surprising for a person of her size, she stabbed the knife through the dry wall located just by the door. “ ANSWER ME!!!”

Still nothing, she violently yanked her weapon of choice from the wall, when it wouldn’t budge the first time, she went as far as shoving her bare foot against the wall to try again,

“Harley.”

Freezing, Harley looked back over her shoulder and spotted Joker, his head was tilted in a way that Harley immediately knew as disproving. Straighten up and looked down to the floor in shame, “I’m sorry Mr.J, but one of these idiots,” with the word idiot she pointed back behind her, “Ate your ice cream!”

She peaked up through her lashes and saw that Jay was now looking at the knife embedded in the wall, and without a word he walked up and easily pulled the blade from its purchase.

With the knife now in hand, Harley couldn’t help the way her body instantly flushed. Jay was an excellent shot, but when it came to a knife, he was an artist and the blade was his paintbrush.

If he had noticed her sudden wayward thoughts, Jay didn’t address them. Instead he waved the knife around, gesturing to the once confused but now nervous henchmen, before them.

“Come now fellas...the lady asked a question.”he said in such a eased manner that some of the newer recruits relaxed, but the few who had been there a while tensed up even further. Still hesitanted silence. Jay titled his head left then to the right as if he was thinking something over, finally he spoke. “ ...what if I...” gestured with the knife to himself, “ Promised not to hurt ya...” he then moved the knife out towards the lot, which visibly relaxed now. However Harley just pouted at the promise of no punishment, she didn’t see how it was fair that the person got away with stealing THEIR ice cream. But she wasn’t going to argue with Jay.

Two hands slowly rose up, followed by a third. “Sorry boss we didn’t know...”

“Yeah sorry..”

The third one nodded along with the apology.

Jay randomly pointed to one of the innocent henchmen that was seated on the couch to his left, “Go get Harley her ice cream....chocolate, vinalla and strawberry.”

Harley continued to glare at the culprits before her. She was happy she would get ice cream in the end, but these jerks still ate her dessert. They were instinctly on her ‘shit list’. She was already thinking of the jobs she could give them that had 0% survivor rate. Nobody messed with her food, and not pay the consequences. Her hateful musing was cut short when she felt the cool touch of Jay’s fingers along her arm, she shivered a bit at the feeling. And couldn’t help as some of her anger dissipated. Jay always had this power over her emotions.

However when Jay suddenly placed the blades handle in her hand, she blinked up at him a bit in confusion. He was looking at her, his green eyes holding her blues, and a smile slowly bleeding on to his face. “ Like I promised I wouldn’t hurt ya....but...” Jay’s smile widened and he lightly brushed a pink faded lock from her face. “ I don’t remember hearing Harley make that promise...” He tapped her nose lightly and the Glasgow smile fully peaked through. “ Isn’t that right Pooh...”

Harley’s smile now mirrored his own, “ Oh you’re right puddin, I made no such promise!” Her puddin was the cleverest of the clever.

#harley quinn roleplay #joker and harley #harley quinn #harley and joker fanfiction #harleyxjoker #Harley Quinn imagine #harleen quinzel rp #harley quinn fanfiction

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blackrose-ffxiv · 6 years

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The Venomous Vixen Finale 09/27

Ryoko Kasai sits in a makeshift 'blind' of sorts, the shirogane night filled with a light rain. Perfect for obscuring sounds. This would be an easy trap, she was sure. "Right. So. One last time, let's go over th' plan. How ya feelin' Leg Boy?"

Lebeaux Desrosiers had dressed in black for once, his arms folded across his chest as he looked around the area. He couldn’t see any of the rest of the ‘support’. Was that a good thing or bad. Probably good. So long as they were actually there. “Simply marvelous. I couldn’t think of anywhere else I would rather be at this moment.” He declared, every last word dripping in sarcasm.

Tubisa Kikai rested with fingers folded over her knees. The calm smile she always wore rested with a more terse edge--One she did as she could to soften, to instill confidence in Lebeaux, perhaps. "Quite ready, Lady Kasai--I have checked the perimeter. All seems as expected."

"It's fine, it's fine, it's fine." Kasai waves her hand dismissively. "I got six a' my best here, plus I came personally. We spent all day settin' this up. Paid off th' Sekiseigumi not ta interfere. An' I got a fuckin' superweapon." She holds up an odd-looking revolver. Matte black, and much longer than most of her handguns. And a much higher calibre. "This'll put her straight in th' ground if I need ta. I wanna capture her, but I'll blow her fuckin' head off if I think she's gonna be a problem fer ya. An' don't forget ya got yer gun." She narrows her eyes. "...Ya did bring it, right?"

Lebeaux rested a hand on his chest as though in prayer, then gave the spot a small pat. “I had it removed from the wrist-holster as it has caught on my cuffs more than once and it began chafing my wrist.” He explained calmly. “But yes, I do have it on me. It is loaded.” He added, just in case there were concerns he would be daft enough to forget something important like that. He smiled serenely between the two. “I do hope it won’t come to that.”

"Certainly not. But, of course--" Kikai lifts a finger, and points it to Lebeaux, thumb-up. "'Tis best to overprepare than under. Speaking of." She points her finger to Kasai's gun. "We have not been able to test it yet. In the event it must be used... I will be certain of the safety of all involved." She states with a resolute nod.

"Chafes on yer cuffs," Kasai mutters. Plainly irritated. "It'll be fine. Just make sure ya aim fer th' body an' fire as quick as ya can. Don't go fer a head shot on her, too easy ta miss an' blowin' her damn lungs out her back'll kill her just as dead." Kasai nods towards the bench. "Go siddown. She'll be comin' soon. It's almost midnight." She nods to Kikai. "It'll be great. It'll be awesome. Wanted ta save these fer that shadow fuck, but hell, maybe I can just dig 'em outta th' corpse an' re-use the slugs."

Lebeaux tilted his head slightly at Kikai. “Wonderful. Two untested weapons in the field.” As he hadn’t had a chance to really practice with his either. You will have your hands full tonight. I’ll trust you to take care of it.” He noted with the same small smile. He didn’t really have a choice in the matter but what use was there pointing that out. He could snark later, if they all made it through. “That’s… actually nevermind. You’re welcome to try it.” He chimed in with Kasai’s musing about fishing through corpses for spent ammunition. “Is there anything else I should bear in mind? Signals or signs.”

"The standard-practices: Palm-forward to stop, thumb toward oneself to come closer; pointing away to move back.." Kikai taps her chin. "Ah. And, if you hear panicked shouting, feel free to either duck, or open fire. But, of course, that rests upon your discretion." She smiles widely-.. Pauses.. And shakes her head. "Little ought to come to such a head. Just relax, and be your usual charming self." She states without any intonation that she's making a joke.

"If ya think yer in danger, all ya gotta do is stand up. That'll be our cue ta jump on her real fast. She draws a weapon, everyone lights her th' fuck up. You try ta keep her alive if she goes down so we can interrogate her. Otherwise, we'll talk it out. At gunpoint. I'll figure out who keeps sendin' fuckin' assassins at me tonight." Kasai rubs her right hand along her arm, left still gripping the gun tightly. "Matchlight's got th' right of it. Just be calm."

Lebeaux exhaled a long-suffering sigh as he indicated himself. He had his standard smile settled firmly in place and was generally calm looking. He did adjust the lay of his shirt cuffs or smooth the lapels of his shirt slightly more than usual, yet that was negligible. “Alright. I suppose I can manage that.”

With a nod, Kikai took Lebeaux's acceptance of this situation as a firm go-ahead. She looks to Kasai, and nods firmly. "Primary goal: Safety of all involved. Secondary: Capture. If impossible; kill." Simple, and quick. She kneels behind the rock, momentarily checking her hidden tools.

"Exactly." Kasai grins. "Now get out there, Leg Boy. Rain ain't gonna last forever. She'll be here soon. An' don't worry. We got yer back."

Lebeaux tilted his head in agreement to the two. Don’t die. Try not to let anyone else die. Fair enough. He had fought dragons. This would be a piece of cake, of course. That would be the first thing he would buy with the pay from this nonsense. A nice big cake. With a half-sarcastic bow the medic turned on his heel and headed towards the arranged meeting area.

With a wiggle of her fingers to bid him a momentary-farewell, Kikai settles in with Kasai behind the stone. Just high enough to cover them. With hair sticking to her cheeks, she grinned over the little knives in her sleeves. Ready, ready, for the stake-out!*

Kasai watches, in silence. Waiting. Ready. Clutching her gun.

The medic made his way over to the bench and settled himself down on it, crossing a leg primly over the other. To show just how calm he was, obviously, he removed a leatherbound journal from his jacket and began making notes in it. Now and then he glanced up to check for company.

With knives checked and readied, Kikai settles in beside Kasai; a hand resting on a long, thin bag at her hip; thumb toying with the flip-latch idley--Awaiting for a signal--Awaiting a sign of motion.. With a terse, present smile.

Time passes. Eventually, Kasai shifts impatiently, her tail drifting. "She should be here by now," she mutters. "I don't like this. Maybe Leg Boy's been made? Maybe she's got a sniper set up somewhere? I didn't think a' that possibility. Shit. We're right by th' apartment buildin', too. I don't like this."

An aetheric rush. Sudden. "If you don't like this, you're going to hate what comes next." A cool voice with a hint of bemusement - DIRECTLY behind Kasai. The figure calmly, quickly yanks the gun from Kasai's hand with all the enthusiasm of someone picking a discarded bottle off the floor. "There we go. Ooh, such a high calibre! Perfect. Precisely what I needed. Kugane appreciates your contribution."

"Not to worry, I made sure to check the high poin--" A figure--Motion, quick--Knives in hand, swiping out with a fan of tiny knives, at the figure's arm!*

Lebeaux glanced up from the journal and swept his icy gaze over the surrounding area. Just as there was a motion over where Kikai and Kasai were waiting. Fury have mercy. He snapped the book shut and shoved it back into his pocket beside the fake gun he was supposed to be swapping as he rose to his feet, moving quickly to close the distance between the rendezvous spot at the rock.

Kasai's eyes widen - her jaw clenches - "GIMME MY FUCKIN' GUN BACK!" - she draws a switchblade of her own, stabbing for the figure's chest.

Some of the knives bounce off metallic bits seemingly under Chiaki's sleeves, but she takes several knives directly into her arm, which remains calmly clutching the handgun. As Kasai thrusts for her chest, she calmly pivots, the blade going right past her - and Kasai with it. "Wonderful. I can already feel it. These bullets really are the real deal. Very, very well done." She looks towards Lebeaux, nodding. "Much appreciated, ijin." In a quick motion, she clears half the distance between her and he, blowing him a kiss, knives falling from her arm which... isn't dripping blood.

The initial shock, short as it had been, now dissipated--She was before Lebeaux, armed. In danger? Possibly: Kikai flings three knives at Chiaki--Before flicking open her pouch; retrieving a slender scroll from it. With a flick, the scroll unravels--And aether begins to channel from the scroll, through her.

Lebeaux slid to a short stop when he saw what the situation was. Kasai was disarmed, Chiaki had the gun and an arm that looked more like a porcupine. Yet something stood out, one of the things he would notice as a medic. There was no blood. The blades were definitely stuck in something, he assumed her flesh, yet there wasn’t a drop of blood. Kikai took the point on the defensive and the Ishgardian reached into his jacket to fetch the tiny pistol and raise it.

Kasai stumbles full to the ground, with how furious and hard she had thrust, and shoots back up to her feet, scrambling to pull a pocket flamethrower. As it reaches her hand, she clenches her jaw. Right. Lebeaux and Kikai were there, too. "LIGHT HER UP, BOYS!" And yet... No motion.

Chiaki pulses, noticeably, with aether - a thin ward forming around her - and the knives bounce off. "Come, now, let's be civil. My name is Chiaki, and I'm sorry I'm late. There's some sleeping guards I had to deal with. Oh, don't berate them, they really, truly did try their best." She reaches into her jacket - pulling from it a small leather pouch. "And hey, you're a hero, Lebeaux. Could never have done this without you. Won't you lower that silly little popgun?" She offers the pouch. She is pointedly, completely ignoring Kikai.

Aetherially infused from the scroll she'd produced; a rapid series of hand-seals; four in total: After two, the sandy mud beneath Chiaki's feet bubbles; oils produced near the surface--After the fourth; the wet mud crunches and crackles; seeking to climb Chiaki's feet as rapidly-forming ice.

Lebeaux inhaled sharply as Chiaki was suddenly there. Right in front of him and holding out a pouch… that certainly did look heavy with payment. She had single handedly taken out every guard and disarmed Kasai before the au ra could get a single shot off. She was good. He was not. His smile returned as he eased out of his rigid stance and lowered the gun obediently. “I do aim to please. I’m full glad to see there’s no hard feelings for all of this…” He agreed as he took a small step forwards and reached for the pouch. At the same moment his finger curled and he squeezed the trigger of the pistol. He had lowered it, sure, now it was aimed at the woman’s shin instead, just above the rising ice from Kikai’s spell.

The gun erupted in his hand with the force of… well he wasn’t sure what to equate it to. He’d never fired a cannon himself but he supposed this was like a Dragonkiller condensed into pocket size. There was a crunch of bone that was felt rather than heard and a cry of pain that went through it. Lebeaux dropped the gun and clutched at his wrist, his soft smile gone in exchange for a grimace of pain.

"FUCKIN' BITCH!" Kasai clenches her jaw, aiming the flamethrower. Ready to fire. "YA CAN'T HAVE MY FUCKIN' GUN, YA CREEPY FUCK!"

Katana at her waist, metallic claws on her fingers and a gun in her hand, Chiaki looks back. And then down, at her legs. Ice. How amuse-BLAM. Aetherial ward blasted away, along with half the width of her leg - shattered shards of bone going with it. She doesn't seem to react much, beyond a dramatic sigh, and once more - no blood. Until blood starts filling into the gaping wound, and sticky tendrils begin to criss-cross between hanging bits of flesh and bone - mending the flesh at a horrifyingly unnatural speed. "I really don't have time for this." She raises her arm, dropping the pouch directly on Lebeaux's head. Filled with large gemstones. "Try holding your wrist stiffer, next time. Don't bend it."

With the infusion, and weaves as quick as they were; Kikai left herself aetherically exhausted. Dropping the spent scroll, she moves to draw the sword stuffed down her hakama-.. .. .. Though, her motion ceases: Flesh knitting itself without any reaction of the horrifically-dismembered limb. Sharply sucking air through teeth, she lunges to plunge the blade through the woman; committing overmuch to the lunge.

Lebeaux dropped to a knee just as Chiaki dropped the ‘payment’ on his head. How humiliating. He grit his teeth, forcing himself to watch as the strange woman pieced herself back together in the strangest way he had ever seen done. This was probably a whole lot of heresy he was witnessing, but it was difficult to think straight at the moment.

Seeing Kikai fully commit, Kasai does as well - lunging forward to drive her knife into Chiaki as well. She aims for the base of her spine.

Chiaki twists on her feet - the loud CRRRRRAKKK of ice being shattered at her feet, though this takes a modicum of visible effort - and with her left hand, grabs Kasai - claws dig into her shoulder - "Take a break and think it over." - and pirouettes, Kikai's blade passing close enough to tear Chiaki's coat - before Chiaki yanks Kasai, now bleeding from the shoulder, directly into Kikai, using the hapless yakuza as a makeshift weapon to try to shove both to the ground. She then starts walking off, at a brisk pace. "Give it an hour, it'll wear off."

Fully-committed, with one foot off the ground, one hand on the hilt and the other steadying the back of the straight blade, Kikai truly has gone all-in--But without rooting to the ground; she is easily thrown off-balance by the dead weight of Kasai's body. Tumbling over herself, she rolls--To her feet, crouching with a gasp-.. "Putting herself between Kasai and Chiaki. A quick glance to Lebeaux: With payment. But he had taken a shot. And was in no position to defend himself. The assailant walks away? "Who sent you?" She shouts through the drizzling rain; crouching low with the blade held toward the ground. Any further confrontation would put Kasai and Lebeaux at risk.

"I sent myself!" Chiaki calls out. "The fate of the realm's at stake. Maybe we'll get tea, sometime, when it's all over." Further away, fading into the rain, voice quite raised, now: "I hear sake helps the pain, if you pour it into the wound soon enough! But that's your call, really. Bye-bye, Ryo-chan!"

@safestsephiroth

#lebeaux #kasai #kikai #chiaki #ahaha wow i'm like two months behind on these #it was a good rp and a good conclusion #everyone got their butts kicked

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sireneia-a · 6 years

Text

me realizing there’s twenty-one playable child units in fe4 second gen and thus exactly enough to assign each one an arcana in a persona au. you know what this means kids

it’s all under the cut with attempts at explanations. i know this isn’t rlly the most relevant thing to this blog, but i’ve written metas on characters that aren’t actually muses so i’m letting it slide. fe4 spoilers will be briefly touched upon for a few characters. the explanations are specifically for how the arcana are represented in persona, but please keep in mind i’m a persona scrub kdhfkdhfdfkfd so if it ends up being only specific to character arcs from p3, my bad. i’m also sticking to the standard cards and avoiding special ones like aeon. welcome to super self-indulgent hell

i did the order by recruitment order, but here’s a link to just the order of all the characters ( sans explanations ) by the actual tarot in case you just want to see that and be done with it

Seliph: The Fool

Obligatory protagonist role getting this arcana, but the Fool is generally based around one being influenced by others. Considering how Seliph is placed in a role as a liberator as thrust upon him by the people’s expectations due to his lineage, I thought it was fitting.

Lana: Priestess

Who I imagine would be the party’s initial navigator. Regardless, getting away from the strictly Persona gameplay aspects, the Priestess is an arcana given to quieter characters who have untapped potential. I generally just think Lana has the vibe for this as opposed to an actual reason.

Larcei: Temperance

This is one of the leftover ones admittedly. Temperance deals with an inability to balance one’s various life aspects. Larcei tends to be portrayed in adaptations as struggling between her combat as well as her love life, and she’s typically unlucky in the latter.

Ulster: Star

I love you Ulster, but he ended up also being one of the leftover ones as well. The Star is associated with hope and joy. There’s actually a pretty cool quote about this one in terms of bestowing help to others in their time of need but eventually being doomed to fall. Ulster is depicted as being protective of the others ( namely in Seliph’s childhood friend squad ) and is compassionate as well as a big brother type, thus I thought he matched up enough with the idea of bestowing help unto others.

Diarmuid: Strength

The Strength arcana in the Persona universe typically explores characters who have a strength of heart in order to keep going past hardships. Though almost everyone in gen 2 experiences tragedy and tries to overcome it, Diarmuid’s separation from his mother and then his consequent journey through Yied to reunite with his family stuck out to me. Additionally, he always seemed to have a good head on his shoulders even when given bad news in fe5 should you let Nanna fall in battle before he joins Leif’s party.

Lester: Sun

The Sun arcana directly deals with happiness, typically revolving around characters who are faced with miserable situations yet still try and be optimistic; alternatively, the character has lost their initial happiness. A really cool arcana in terms of character arcs, and Lester got it not because I thought it fit him, but because he was literally my last option and I thought the Sun arcana would fit him more than some other remaining ones, and a lot of the characters at this point I was dead set on keeping them locked in to the ones I chose for them. I initially gave this arcana to Lene.

I’d love to meet someone whose fav is Lester sdkhkddf I feel so bad that I don’t have a lot in terms of analysis on him.

Julia: Fortune

The one I knew I’d want the most for this arcana right away: the Fortune arcana revolves entirely around fate. The characters usually have to make a large decision and strive to seize their own destiny. Julia and Julius both have their births completely orchestrated for the sole purpose of furthering the Lopt Sect’s goals, their fates determined by their bloodlines. Julia rises up from what originally seemed like a helpless situation to being the one to restore peace to Jugdral herself. I literally can’t imagine anybody else, sans Julius, who could fit this arcana better out of the second gen cast.

Fee: Chariot

The Chariot arcana places an emphasis on striving towards a goal, holding a determined and willful spirit. Fee is another character I knew I instantly wanted for a specific arcana, as she’s fixated on finding her missing father-- especially when you take FE5 canon into mind and make her father Lewyn. She embodies both the arc ( willing to accomplish her goal no matter what ) but also the personality associated with the arcana.

Arthur: Magician

For starters, giving this arcana to an actual mage is so satisfying. In any case, the arcana is associated with somebody who takes more of a secondary role to the protagonist but still has their own ego. Additionally, great tragedy befalls and motivates the character-- though typically it’s romance-related in terms of arcs, but I ended up omitting that for this. Arthur is a character who exudes confidence, something that Fee suspects might not be well-deserved when they bicker, and his call to action revolves around his desire to reunite with his family. He’s aware terrible things befell his mother and sister and is terribly protective of his sister as a result. Tine honestly might get the shortest end of the stick out of the second gen cast in terms of horrible fates.

The LI manga adaptation also depicts Arthur as a shameless flirt that is a bit of a pervert, which also helps just strengthen the tie between him and the typical archetype for the Magician arcana character in the Persona series.

Iuchar: Moon

Even though you can’t recruit both of the Neir brothers in one run, I’m giving them different arcanas since I personally think that their character arcs in-game are different enough to warrant it and it gets me up to my perfect twenty-one number.

The Moon arcana revolves around illusions and typically involves a character seeing reality not as how it is, some going so far as to blame themself for something that isn’t true. My analysis on Iuchar touches upon the idea that he’s putting up his carefree personality as an act to be able to more easily show kindness upon Isaachians without arousing suspicion from his family; additionally, it talks about the idea that Iuchar blames himself for everything his family has done under the Empire and asks for forgiveness sincerely, not understanding how Seliph sees that Iuchar is blameless and that even if he wasn’t, the people love him already. Iuchar simply can’t see that reality. Though him being the actual canonically flirty character is a good argument to assign him the Magician arcana, I ultimately personally see the Moon arcana as more fitting for him.

Iucharba: Death

The Death arcana is about life cycles and predominantly characters undergoing a great change. Iucharba is a character I personally note for not really being taken seriously by his family as noted in this meta and he undergoes a great transformation throughout the events of Genealogy should you recruit him as a result. He begins as a young man allied with the Empire, a man sorely underestimated plenty, and he ends up developing into this character that suddenly is the heir to the Neir bloodline and consequently is now actually in a position of power within Grannvale-- a position he was nowhere near getting before defecting. Also not really necessary for this arcana, but the fact that you can only recruit him at the cost of killing his brother helps put a literal death association.

Patty: Devil

I actually originally had Patty assigned to the Lovers arcana, but I think this is fitting enough too. The Devil arcana typically deals with characters who commit immoral actions and have difficulty telling that what they’re doing is wrong. They’re led by impulse and temptation but they are also typically dedicated to a cause. Patty is a thief who steals to procure funds for the orphans her and her brother look after. Her compassion is her commitment and though she’s aware what she’s doing is shady, she still believes herself to be partly in the right because those she steals from are terrible people as well. She’s a more mature Dew in a sense. She’s not a perfect fit for the Devil arcana, but she fits it the most out of all the second gen.

Leif: Justice

Leif honestly probably could’ve fit a few, but I decided the Justice arcana is most suitable; the characters associated with this arcana typically are concerned with fairness and can be pretty stoic. Leif’s obsessed with enacting vengeance-- a theme that is just a breath away from justice. He’s the character I think of most in Jugdral that cares the most about karma and seeing people get what they deserve. Additionally, he fits the personality trend in how he attempts ( keyword: attempt ) to suppress his feelings.

Nanna: Empress

The Empress arcana is given to elegant women in high positions of authority. They’re typically a little on the cold side but hold compassion ( perhaps in a sort of motherly fashion ) for others underneath all of that. The second gen are almost all royalty or nobility of some degree, but Nanna especially came off as a princess to me the most out of all the characters. Additionally, God her JP voice actress really nails that refined aura. Nanna’s personality in my opinion also matches the trend in how she can be a little curt ( namely to Finn should he be her father as well as to Homer in his recruitment conversation ) but she ultimately is heralded for being kind and supportive by Leif.

Also gameplay-wise, the Empress personas typically end up having healing skills, and Nanna’s class as troubadour plays into this too.

Ares: Hierophant

Another character I was certain of what arcana I wished to assign them from the start, though I feel like a lot of people would think of different cards than I did. The Hierophant characters typically are fixated on the past and need to learn how to move on from that. Ares’s arc literally revolves around how he’s obsessed with killing Seliph to enact revenge for ( what he believes to be ) Sigurd killing Eldigan. Even Lene attempts to get Ares to stop being tied down to the past and to accept the present and the future.

Lene: Lovers

I went into this really wanting Lene to be assigned to the Sun as mentioned previously but ended up changing her to the Lovers which works out too. The Lovers character is usually someone who is popular and they’re tied between two conflicting aspects of themself. Lene is friendly and charismatic both due to her personality as well as her line of work, and her character explores her maturity as Ares’s confidant in opposition to how she’s fixated on finding her mother no matter what-- something that can be interpreted as a childish fantasy that’s hopeless considering how little of information she has to go on. Additionally, the Lovers personas gameplay-wise are usually healers and associated with wind magic, and though that doesn’t quite fit Lene, it coincides with it enough what with her being a support unit primarily and also both her cipher and her heroes art associating breezes with her.

Tine: Judgement

Judgement arcs explore characters realizing their true calling and gaining absolution and acceptance. Tine is initially allied under the Empire due to her connection to the Friege family, and she lived a very stifling existence until she defects. She’s uncertain exactly what she’s doing as well as who’s “right” at the time that she takes to the battlefield but she comes to realize that Seliph’s liberation army has good intentions. The truth that seemed so muddied before becomes so much clearer by the end. She also is another character who asks for forgiveness from Seliph and ends up being wholly surprised by how easily he gives her it. I feel like this implies that desire for absolution her entire life and it’s over the course of the war that she’s able to feel comfortable in her own skin and voice out her own wishes.

Febail: Tower

Ah, yes, the Edge Lord card. Regardless, the Tower arcana deals with bad omens and doom and destruction. The characters associated with this card are typically characters who have fallen from grace. Febail is unknowingly the prince of Jungby, one of the few playable second gen units guaranteed major holy blood, but he lives his life struggling in an orphanage and as a mercenary who will take any job so long as it gives him the money to provide for the other orphans. He loses sight of his own morality, needing to be reprimanded by his sister that his attempt to slay Seliph isn’t actually going to end in his goal of prosperity for the kids. Though all the kids have taken a tumble in life, I genuinely think Febail captures this concept the best.

Ced: Emperor

If there’s literally any character I think could actually translate super well into a Persona verse more seriously beyond just me assigning arcanas, I honestly think it’d be Ced. Anyhow, the Emperor arcana holds characters who desire to control their environment even if fate gives them trouble in attempting to do so, and the characters typically are suffering from a personal issue that they do not know how to tackle. Ced is a mage who goes out of his way to find his father and along the way, brought on by his own conviction, establishes the Magi Squad to try and help the people suffering in Manster from oppression underneath the Empire. That active role reflects the arcana very well in my eyes, and Ced’s personal conflict with Lewyn as a neglectful father as per FE5′s canon seals the deal.

Coirpre: Hermit

Hermit wasn’t my first pick for Coirpre as an individual character, but I gave him it pretty quickly after I thought about the entire second gen cast collectively as opposed to just standalone cases. I think Coirpre would most likely end up as the second, more powerful navigator character to recruit especially with his ties to the Bragi bloodline and the canonical Bragi connection to prophetic truth.

Coirpre doesn’t have the strongest connection to his arcana, but the Hermit arcana characters typically put themselves in situations where they are hiding away from the spotlight and others. As such, these characters are usually more in background or supportive roles in life. Coirpre is a healer in an extremely militant country, a larger anomaly considering the fact that his father is the Shield of Thracia-- a famed general. Coirpre, upon being locked away as a hostage, adamantly requests to be let go because he doesn’t wish for his father to be forced to fight; he seeks a more discreet way to solve the issue befitting of the arcana and ultimately sought out a calmer solution. Judging by his minor involvement in FE5, he also is more neutral typically in terms of alignment, not caring much for whether or not Leif was a runaway prince but also not offering to join him unlike the other FE4 characters who show up in the midquel. Coirpre keeps himself on the down low until he’s freed by the liberation army and realizes his father and he need to take a stance against the Empire more actively.

Altena: Hanged Man

The Hanged Man arcana explores characters who undergo arcs where they are caught between two extremes or two parties in their life. Altena encompasses this idea best in how she is troubled by her loyalty to southern Thracia due to being raised as its princess and her true lineage as Leonster’s princess. She is at odds due to this conflict, what with both parties being at opposite ends of the battlefield from one another and she’s forced to make a choice between her adopted brother and her blood brother.

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shellyrper-walrus · 7 years

Text

“A surprise?”

As soon as the word had left Hanji’s lips, Angel’s eyes had lit up. Truthfully, she hadn’t been paying much attention at first - the scientist had a tendency to go on and most of the time Angel just zoned out, waiting for some actual point to the conversation to fling out and ping her in the face. A lot of the time it wasn’t even a good point; or rather, it often wasn’t a point the monarch cared much about. Thankfully, today was different.

“Yes, your majesty!” Hanji confirmed with a nod, grinning wide. “A birthday surprise, just for you!”

Angel’s full attention had finally been grasped. She too was smiling now, a little bounce in her step as she turned to face Hanji properly.

“Do you have it with you?” she asked.

The scientist shook her head. “Rather impossible, your majesty.”

“Impossible?” Angel narrowed her eyes, tapping her bottom lip with a finger. “So it’s something big. You’re not gonna make me guess, are you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I definitely don’t fucking want you to.”

That made Hanji chuckle as she held out a hand, waiting for Angel to grasp it before she walked off, leading her to a different part of the mansion entirely.

The whole house was bustling now - the sun had barely risen and yet most everyone was awake, at least amongst the inhabitants that actually had to sleep. Those that didn’t, namely the royal children themselves, had been working for even longer. Decorations were strewn all about and came in all shapes and sizes, though even Angel had to admit that they were excessively red. The ballroom in particular was a violent scarlet hue, attacking her eyes from the mere glimpse she’d seen of it, and part of her wondered whether it might be wise to start adding a secondary colour to her aesthetic. She could already hear Prospero chanting “purple” in the back of her mind, making her snigger a little even as Hanji kept talking.

“--and so that’s when I...” The scientist trailed off, turning her head back to look at her queen. “Are you listening, your majesty?”

Angel, who’d been busy waving at Archie as he wished her a happy birthday, suddenly snapped her head back. “What? Yeah, sure. Something ‘bout, uh...”

“Transportation.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion, betraying how little attention she’d been paying, but she gave a small nod regardless. “Just what I was gonna say. We’re not going somewhere fucking crazy, are we?”

Hanji shrugged before giving another of her slightly manic chuckles. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“It’s a surprise!”

Though Angel had been excited at first, now she was starting to get annoyed. “Would you just tell me what it fucking is?”

The snapping barely made the scientist jolt - she was used to it by now, living in this house - but she still adjusted her tone to accommodate. “I’m sure you’re aware of Perdita’s... concerns.”

“Concerns?”

Hanji sighed a little. “I hadn’t wanted to bring it up on your birthday, but... she wants you to spend much more time on Sesharrim than you have been. She says you need to be more hands on if you’re serious about being queen.”

“Oh, that,” Angel said, her face contorting as she stuck out her tongue. “She doesn’t half nag sometimes. Yeah, I told her I’d go when shit’s less... busy. It takes a fucking age to get there for starters and she always wants me to stay for bollocking months. I ain’t staying there that fucking long! This Isle’s my project, I told her so. Does she know how many fucking coalition meetings I’d miss to shake hands with some poncy cunt that wants more funds for his stupid fucking town planning bullshit? I don’t see why they can’t just come the fuck here instead.”

“Well, your majesty, I think my latest invention might help with that!”

“Why? Is it something that’ll shut my cousin up?”

“Sounds somewhat tempting...” the scientist mused, getting distracted for a moment before shaking her head. “But no! What I’ve invented is a teleporter!”

Angel stopped entirely then. Hanji only noticed when the hand she was holding went taut and stopped her in her path.

“Is something wrong, your majesty?” she asked.

“A... teleporter?” the monarch started. “Like a real, actual... from place to place teleporter?” She paused, frowning slightly, remaining in perplexed silence whilst the scientist nodded in response. “I’m not fucking saying “Beam me up, Hanji!” or some stupid shit like that.”

Hanji tilted her head with a small confused smile on her lips. “There’s no... ‘beams’, your majesty. Should there have been?”

“No, it’s a--” Angel struggled to find a way to explain and shook her head as she sighed. “Never fucking mind. Are you going to show me this thing or not?”

“Ah!” the older of the two exclaimed, her beaming smile splitting her face in two once again. She pulled her queen off in the direction of the surprise as she suddenly burst into a torrent of excited speech. “This device has been a long time in the making, your majesty. I first conceptualised it many years ago, though it never really amounted to much. You see, pure science alone can’t do everything - in fact, I’d say this invention is almost directly inspired by you. Much as you harnessed the power of, uh...”

“Necromancy?”

“Yes, yes, that! Much as you used magic in your own scientific pursuits, I too began to consult the many magics of this land. You see, portals and the such have long since been a part of the infrastructure here. I hear the fey in particular are very fond of them though, as I’ve since discovered, more human-based species can also create them with a little help from spells and potions. I signed up for a few magic classes, slaved over books, asked around in the pub... I even participated in a coven meeting at one point. They had some rather... strange requests before I was allowed to attend but it was well worth it in the end. Ah, here we are!”

Suddenly Hanji stopped before a closed door, turning on her heel and pulling out a blindfold she’d been hiding in her pocket.

“Really?” Angel asked as a frown began to form on her face.

“Yes, really! You do want this to be a surprise, don’t you?”

Angel sighed. “Fine. You do realise I’ve seen Sesharrim before though, don’t you?”

The queen might not have been able to see Hanji now that thick fabric covered her eyes but she could certainly hear her laughing as she opened the door before her and carefully lead her inside. “Oh, your majesty, I’m afraid this teleporter doesn’t go to Sesharrim. This is the prototype - I had to test my device on somewhere much closer to home before simply jumping into intergalactic travel, I’m sure you understand.”

Angel’s frown only grew beneath her blindfold. “Then where the fuck does this go?”

“That’s the surprise!”

Hanji stood the monarch stock still inside the room before darting off, her shoes making distinct noises on the wooden floor as she flitted around pulling levers and flicking switches. There was a loud electric buzzing noise as something before the blinded queen burst into life, giving her a start that made her exclaim “Fucking hell!” with some ferocity. Only then did the scientist return and lightly grasp Angel’s shoulders, steering her in the direction of her birthday gift.

The sensation of passing through the teleporter was something the monarch couldn’t quite describe. It almost tingled, a little like the static buzz you could get off everyday objects, but at the same time it was almost nothing like it. There was something... refreshing about it, she supposed? Though maybe that was the stark coldness of their new location - it was indoors, but it clearly wasn’t heated. If she hadn’t known any better, she’d have thought she’d just stepped out of the back door on a chilly day.

With one swift tug, Hanji pulled the blindfold off of Angel’s face and all at once she forgot about what the teleporter might’ve felt like. A torrent of noise greeted her instead as, out of comparative silence, burst a sudden cry of “Happy Birthday!” from all around her. She had to blink as she took it all in; at first it was merely from the sudden brightness, but soon she was trying to force back the tears which had crept slowly into the corners of her eyes.

They were in her old home, many miles away on Mok’s Island--no, her island now--and before her was an endless crowd of her own children, all seeming to want to be at the front all at once. Their smiles were wider than Angel had seen them in years and, she noticed as she began to blubber more, many of them had started to cry too. The only person that didn’t quite belong was sat right in the middle, zombies trying to clamber over her shoulders to wave at their mother, but she didn’t seem to mind. At first, Angel almost hadn’t recognised Prospero - the others had clearly given her a makeover only they could’ve achieved. She was decked in leather her queen could never have imagined her wearing, looking scruffier than she’d ever seen her, and eyeliner ringed her eyes to an extent that made her resemble a panda. They’d even sprayed some colours in her hair, temporary Angel was sure, that seemed to glisten like a mismatched rainbow when she moved her head to laugh.

“Hanji wanted to show you this weeks ago,” she admitted. “But I’m afraid I insisted on giving it to you as a birthday present.”

Angel’s bottom lip wobbled as she tried to sniff her tears away. She couldn’t help but laugh too even as her crying got worse, wiping one of her eyes as she spoke. “Is it... permanent?”

Prospero nodded and all of Angel’s kids mimicked the movement. “You can all live together again,” she confirmed. “Just like you used to.”

A little sob escaped the monarch then before she suddenly darted forwards. Prospero tried to get to her feet to meet her outstretched arms but all it did was send them both hurtling to the ground when Angel collided, squeezing her tightly even through the harsh impact against the tiled flooring. Her queen was crying onto her chest but not because she was sad. The sight brought a smile to the commander’s lips and, as she stroked the younger girl’s hair, she pressed a soft peck to her temple.

“Well!” Hanji called from above them with a clap of her hands. “I don’t know how the teleporter’ll react if you all try to force your way through at once, so an attempt at decorum would be appreciated.”

“What’s a duh-floor-em?” shouted one of the kids back.

Hanji thought about the answer for a while before shrugging. “I’m not sure. You can take it to mean ‘go through in single file’ if you like.”

Predictably, the mess of zombies that followed did nothing of the sort. They all wanted to see their mother’s mansion before the others and as soon as possible - they were shouting and elbowing each other and a few of them even started a fight over what single file actually entailed. The scientist was doing her best in her attempts to organise them but it was as futile as she’d expected.

As the crowd around them began to dissipate, Angel and Prospero started to stir too. The smaller alien lifted her head first and then the rest of her body, unfolding her arms from where they’d been tucked around her subordinate. She placed a hand on either side of her, about to lift herself up properly, when she came to a sudden stop. She was supposed to be getting up and going, of course she was, but something about the commander’s piercing eyes made her just want to sink back down and stay there, at least for a few moments more. The thought brought warmth to her cheeks and, perhaps worst of all, Prospero had definitely noticed. Angel jolted then, scrambling to her feet in an attempt to act like nothing had happened. She thought she’d gotten away with it at first, even if her face had reddened, when a hand on her own stopped her.

“Come now, your majesty,” Prospero said softly, lowering her head so she could speak into her queen’s ear. The sounds of the chaos in the room almost seemed to ebb away then, shooed by the warmth breath that tickled Angel’s skin. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? There’s no need to resist doing the things you want to.”

The monarch’s eyes had widened even before she turned on her heel. As soon as Prospero was in her field of vision, she wasted no time in leaning further in, pressing her lips quite firmly to Angel’s own. They were soft, terribly soft, and the faint wafts of her flowery shampoo almost threatened to envelop her. Was this what people meant when they talked about how good girls smelt? Prospero certainly smelt good - far better than her queen would have ever expected a soldier to.

The kiss had barely begun before it was over. Prospero merely let it linger on Angel’s lips as she pulled back, the fainest lipstick stain at her mouth betraying her otherwise collected demeanour. It only became more obvious when she grinned and the crimson tones contrasted with her teeth. Her lips couldn’t rival her queen’s face, though - even Angel’s jacket struggled to be as red as she stuttered in the air, uncharacteristically lost for words. Prospero might’ve kissed her once before but she’d been prepared for that one! This one... This one was...!

“Happy birthday, your majesty,” the commander said with a voice that almost seemed to taunt her.

Angel didn’t have a response - she merely followed Prospero with her eyes when she moved to leave. She was concentrating on her face at first but, as she got further away, she felt them drift lower, tracing the way her leather makeover clung to her body. Had her subordinate always been this...? Well, this...? Her brows furrowed; she didn’t know what word to use but whatever word it was, she didn’t want to say it. That would only be admitting it and, if Angel was going to be anything on her birthday, that thing was stubborn.

#plot post #angel #angel: plot post

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flighty37-blog · 7 years

Text

Lucky To Have Found You.

Summary: Nigel Lester finds his soulmate, in quirky Kathryn Smythe. She’s odd, outgoing, kind, sweet, intelligent…. Everything a dream girl should be. This is my take on Nigel and Kathryn’s romance. **

Pre children, during Kathryn and Nigel’s first schooling. They’re about eight years old. They meet on the playground:

It all started back in school, either primary or secondary. Thirty-five years later, Nigel couldn’t exactly recall the details, but he sure remembered how they’d met….

Nigel was sat on the monkeybars sitting on top, surveying the kids running about. Suddenly, a little girl with long brown hair with blonde streaks through it, dangled upside down and looked over at Nigel’s feet.

“I like your trainers, mine have sparklies,” the little girl pointed at her own pair.

“They are nice,” Nigel quietly rejoined.

“Nice? They cost my mum a lot of quid. That’s what she complained to Dad about, when I grow up, I’ll never complain. I’ll have a good house a very nice husband and a houseful of babies,” she sounded so sure of herself as she righted her body and sat next to Nigel.

“I”m Kathryn; my Daddy calls me ‘Kitty-Kat’; Mummy calls me Kath, and my brothers call me, ‘pain in the arse’. I have two! Brothers not arses,” she put her hand to her mouth, and giggled behind it.

“I’m Nigel, my mummy’s name is Dorothy. She’s psychic,” Nigel said.

“Really?! That’s so neat! Let’s be friends,” Kathryn decided.

“Okay,” Nigel said as they shook hands.

The Years Went By….

Nigel and Kathryn a.k.a. Kath, were the best of friends. They dated other people, but when the relationships ultimately ended, they ended up in each other’s flats eating ice cream and watching sad films.

One day:

“Let’s just date each other,” Kathryn said, after a horrific blind date.

“Are you certain?” Nigel asked, as he came into the lounge carrying a tray of food and drinks.

“Why not? Friends to Lovers; isn’t that the way it’s supposed to go?” Kathryn asked.

“I dunno,” Nigel shrugged, as he sat beside her putting the duvet over her legs.

“I’m single, you’re newly single again. Why the hell not?” Nigel ventured.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Kathryn quoted, and snuggled against him, testing new boundaries. Cautiously Nigel, reached out and held her hand.

“You’re a sweetheart Nige,” Kathryn spoke up.

“Thank you,” Nigel softly kissed her temple. They continued watching the film.

It was almost a natural thing. It felt right, comfortable.

“Mum said that you’d fit right in with us,” Nigel started.

“Good, I like your mum,” Kathryn answered.

“I like your mum too,” Nigel confessed.

“Then it’s settled,” Kathryn spoke again.

But It was Not All Sunshine and Peaches:

“What d’you mean you’re going to a different Uni?” Kathryn threw a dish towel at Nigel’s head.

He ducked and spoke, “I’ll not be too far. Three hours from your uni,” Nigel tried to calm her down. But she seemed to calm down on her own. She flung her arms around his neck, and almost crushed him to death in a tight hug.

He loved her and her enthusiasm.

That’s right, and I’ll write you and ring you,” Nigel offered, disentangling himself from her grasp, but kissing her lips.

“No worries Love?” Nigel whispered.

“IF you find another girl, I’ll never forgive you!” Kathryn answered.

“And give you up? Not for all the tea in China,” Nigel promised.

“Good,” Kathryn settled into the crook of his arms.

“I love you,” Nigel blurted out.

“I know,” Kathryn smiled up at him.

(Almost) three years later:

Having finished Uni, the two (still in) love birds found a tiny flat to move into.

“I love it,” Kathryn said.

“I’m glad, now that I’ve the newspaper job, we can afford this place,” Nigel answered.

“I’ll keep it tidy,” Kathryn decided.

So it was agreed, mutually, Kathryn stayed put and Nigel worked out in the world.

The Amusement Park:

Nigel felt for the velvet box, and curled his fingers around it, slipping it into his front pocket.

“Where Are We Going Again Love?!” Kathryn called down the hallway, rousing Nigel from his inner thoughts.

“It’s A Surprise, But I Think You’ll Like It!” Nigel raised his voice a bit to be heard properly.

“And Don’t Dress Formal?” Kathryn asked.

“No Darling!” Nigel assured her with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I trust your judgement,” Kathryn said, as she and Nigel met in the tiny passage.

He reassured her with a slight kiss and held her petite hand, he caressed her bare ring finger as well, then he kissed it.

She smiled sweetly at him, and soon they were off to begin their date, adventure. They arrived at the amusement park, and Kathryn gasped.

“Oh! I’ve been wanting to ride!” She clapped her hands.

“I know,” Nigel whispered in her ear.

“Let’s go!” She pulled him up to the ticket seller’s window, They bought two tickets.

“Where shall we go first?” Nigel mused.

“Scariest rides first ferris wheel last, I want to get stuck on the top and get a look at the lay of the land,” Kathryn decided.

“Okay,” Nigel agreed.

The Ferris Wheel would be the perfect spot to propose.

“Are you alright? You’re extra quiet,” Kathryn observed.

“Oh just an article I’m working on,” Nigel answered. Kathryn shrugged but asked nothing further of him.

They went on the roller coasters first, then finally, the Ferris Wheel.

“I think it’s almost big enough to be the London eye,” Kathryn said, as they were safely tucked in one of the swinging cars, and she leaned on his shoulder.

“Do you? It’s so open, the stars are gorgeous like you. Which group of stars do you want?” Nigel asked.

“The ones to the left,” Kathryn pointed.

“And straight on til morning,” Nigel guessed.

“Only with you next to me,” Kathryn nudged him, and murmured against him. They kissed.

Nigel felt around for the velvet box, and pulled it out.

“Kath?” Nigel nervously spoke up.

“Yes?” Kathryn focused on Nigel.

“Kathryn Martyna Smythe, will you….” Nigel paused and opened the box as their car ‘got stuck’ on the top.

“Marry me?” Nigel finally got out of his mouth.

And then Kathryn burst into tears.

“Is that a maybe?” Nigel asked, he was confused by the lack of words, one of which should have been a ‘yes’.

“Nigel John Lester, I’d be honoured to be your wife,” Kathryn finally turned back to face him, swiping at her face.

Nigel handed her a handkerchief and wiped her face free of tears, he hugged her fiercely and placed the ring on her finger. She held the ring up and it reflected the moonlight.

“I love it, I love you,” Kathryn managed.

“I’m pleased,” Nigel answered, and the ride finished and then it was time to start for home.

“Let’s go celebrate with a night in,” Kathryn suggested.

“I’m for it,” Nigel acknowledged.

The Phone Calls:

Ringing one’s parents is usually nerve wracking. But when it came to the Lester-Smythe households, was actually pretty simple. Kathryn gushed out the news, and Nigel could hear the screams of excitement. Nigel grinned.

When it was Dorothy and John’s Turn….

“Mum? Dad? Nigel started.

“Have you proposed already; or is it tomorrow? I told your father I had a vision!” Dorothy excitedly said.

“I just proposed,” Nigel said, as he grinned.

“I knew it! Didn’t I know it Johnny?” Dorothy trilled.

“Yeah, I heard about twelve times and like usual you were correct, My Dumpling,” John answered in a loving way.

So the plans commenced. Everyone pitched in and both fathers chipped in the money and things were going swimmingly.

A week before the wedding:

Kathryn was in tears, Nigel was at his parents’ house and she held onto the receiver for dear life.

It was just a nightmare Kathy-Love,” Nigel tried to console his bride to be.

“It was Terrible! And then I had to….” The rest of her sentence was cut off as Nigel made soothing noises at her.

“Bless you Nigel,” Kathryn hiccoughed.

“We’re in this together Love. You and I,” Nigel said wishing he could hold her to him.

“So you do still want to marry me?” Kathryn asked.

“Of course I do,” Nigel assured her.

“I love you to bits and pieces,” She reaffirmed.

“Back at you my sweet,” Nigel answered.

“One week,” Kathryn sighed.

Well worth the wait,” Nigel calmly said.

“I know,” Kathryn acknowledged.

“My Love,” Nigel soothed again.

“I’ll go now,” Kathryn said.

“Dream of me,” Nigel returned.

“It will be the sweetest dream,” Kathryn answered.

It’d better be; Goodnight Sweetheart,” Nigel said.

“Goodnight Nigel,” Kathryn answered, as they hung up.

The Day of The Wedding:

Kathryn checked and rechecked her dress, readjusted her veil, she sighed. She had a fluttering traveling from her stomach to heart and vice versa. She took deep calming breaths.

“You look absolutely breathtaking!” Dorothy said, as she practically floated into the room, standing in the spot previously filled by Kathryn’s mother.

“Thank you Dorothy,” Kathryn blinked back tears.

“The butterflies are natural, if it makes you feel any better, Nigel needed tissues,” Dorothy paused for breath.

The women hugged.

“You’re good for him,” Dorothy assured her.

The ceremony:

Their vows said, and they kissed. Really kissed, deeply and with their eyes closed. Nigel made sure that Kathryn felt that kiss all the way down her spine, and to her toes. Kathryn didn’t want the kiss to end. But end it had to. They’d save up for the hotel room.

Clapping and cheering from the Smythe side, and a couple of whistles from Dorothy.

“Mummm,” Nigel mock groaned.

They honeymooned on, the Isle of Man. It was lovely, they had carteblanche breakfasts, a leisurely stroll amongst the waves. It was pure heaven.

A Bundle of Joy(?)

“Kath?” Nigel asked, a worried tone seeping into his voice.

“Nigel?” Kathryn returned.

“What is it Love?” Nigel was even more worried.

“I need you to go to Tesco’s,” Kathryn peeked her (now) pale face around the cracked open door.

“What? I’ll get whatever you need,” Nigel reached out and stroked her cheek.

“A pregnancy test; your mum had a certain feeling,” Kathryn nervously licked her lips.

“And now you’re ill?” Nigel pieced it together.

“Quite astonishing how accurate she is. Will you go my Darling?” She asked, he nodded in turn.

They briefly kissed, he straightened his tie and went out. A baby. Well that was fine. He had a great job. Kath and he wanted one or two at the very least.

He got back home in record time. She was still indisposed inside the room. He knocked on the closed door, and a hand reached out for the white nondescript box.

An hour later….

“Nigel?” Her shaky voice brought Nigel to her.

“Yes my Love?” He questioned through the door.

She opened the door, and took his shirt collar in her hand, pulling him inside. Though Kathryn still looked ill, her eyes were sparkling.

“We’re going to be parents,” Kathryn announced, not one to dance about an issue.

“I hope it’s a boy! I want two boys!” Kathryn chirped.

“As long as they’re healthy and happy,” Nigel answered.

“He will be,” Kathryn sounded so sure.

“Good,” Nigel had full trust in his bride, that trust would carry him through the whole of their marriage.

Nine Months Later:

“Martyn Nigel John Lester, welcome to the world,” Kathryn kissed the top of the baby’s brownish red hair.

Nigel proudly looked on.

The End.

#Kathryn and Nigel Lester Fanfic

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