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kedreeva · 2 years

Note

Eddie/Steve Sentinel AU

(My askbox is open for ST prompts!)(Previous Prompts)

For those that don't know what a Sentinel AU is, it's from a 90s TV show by the name "The Sentinel" and the wikipedia read is a lot of fun, but I'll explain it some here too, with liberties taken. Every fandom deserves a little Sentinel AU... as a treat. So when my best friend asked me... well! Enjoy!

-----

Steve wakes in a cold sweat, the overwhelming iron taste of blood in his mouth. He struggles away from the images of demobats grabbing at his flesh, of the feel of a serrated tail wrapped around his throat. He tries to shut out the memory of their shrieking, the acrid scent of them, and falls deeper into the taste of his own blood.

He’s choking on it. He’d dying.

All he can taste is the metallic tang of blood.

The thick, revolting flavor of it taking over everything else.

He cannot hear the screams, see the bats, feel them.

There’s only blood; red blood cells, softer in flavor than the white, the mild plasma that tastes almost eggy at this level.

He scrabbles for anything else, but there’s nothing.

He’d drowning. He’s dying.

He cannot get out.

He’s dying.

------

Robin knocks frantically on Steve’s front door while Eddie mills around in the garden behind her. “Steve!” she shouts, using the flat of her palm to slap faster at the door. Not as loud, so she switches back to the side of her fist. “STEVE!”

“Hey,” Eddie says, under her racket. “Key.”

She whirls and finds him holding a small stone statue of a- a snail, she thinks, and in his other hand is a small, brass key. She snatches it from his grasp and attacks the door.

“He’s gotta be home, his car’s here,” she says as she fails to get the key in the hole.

He’s gotta be here. He’s gotta be okay.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Eddie says mildly.

“Of course you would say that. You’ve skipped class and, like, jobs, and- and why can’t I open this fucking door,” she snarls, and then backs up and holds herself very still and tense for a second.

“I’m going to forgive you for that,” Eddie says with a snort, “because you’re worried.”

“Steve doesn’t skip work,” Robin tells him, and then calmly sticks out the key to the keyhole. It slides in and she twists the handle, following the door open like she’s a part of it.

She’s haring up the stairs to Steve’s room before Eddie can even cross the threshold. The door to his bedroom is open, so she bursts inside and freezes when she sees Steve in the bed. He’s lying there, eyes open and completely, utterly still. Her heart seizes up, strangling a broken sound from her before she sees him blink, and relief nearly crashes her entire system.

“You asshole!” she exclaims as she tries to relax, crossing the room to his bedside. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He doesn’t answer, or move, just continues to stare blankly up at the ceiling. She can hear Eddie climbing the stairs as she leans over Steve and touches his arm gently. He doesn’t respond at all. She pinches him, to the same effect. She pinches him harder just as Eddie peeks into the room.

“He’s- something’s wrong,” Robin says weakly.

Eddie steps in further and cranes his neck a little to peer at Steve without getting too close. “He’s breathing, right?”

“Y-… Yeah,” Robin says, after checking quickly. “It’s like he’s asleep.”

“With his eyes open.” Eddie shakes his head. “Maybe he had, like, a stroke or something? We should call an ambulance.”

“We can’t just call an ambulance,” Robin says, stricken. “If it’s… upside down shit, we can’t call a hospital. I don’t have the number for the lab, do you?”

Eddie shakes his head and then jumps, and reaches to pull a battered wallet out of his back pocket. “Actually, I might.” He extracts a tattered business card with a hand-written number on the back of it, and passes it to Robin.

She snatches it up. “Okay. I’ll call Owens. You need to call Nancy and the others, get them all over here.”

“Wait, what? Robin!” Eddie calls after her as she bolts for the nearest phone. “I don’t know Nancy’s number!”

“Then call Dustin!” she tosses over her shoulder, and heads down the stairs.

-----

“Well,” Owens says, after the latest head shake from his pet scientist, “we’re not finding any residue from the other dimension. His wounds have checked out as far as we can tell, and he’s not- he’s not braindead.”

“Well he’s clearly not okay, either!” Nancy spits venomously. Eddie’s glad he’s on this side of her ire.

“I know, I understand your frustration, but we’re going to have to do some more testing, see if we can figure out what’s wrong with him, and if any of you are at risk of something similar. Any of you felt… weird?”

“Weird!” Dustin exclaims in disbelief. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do we feel like we might be falling into a waking coma?”

“He’s not-”

“-in a coma,” the kids all chant together, and Owens nods like he should have expected that, one hand sweeping as if they’ve just proved his point for him.

“Can we see him, at least?” Dustin asks. It sounds like a demand, but Eddie’s pretty sure he’d stay in the hall if Owens told him to. At least for now.

“Sure, kid,” Owens says, stepping aside so the group can shuffle back into the room.

Eddie lets everyone in before him, catching Robin’s eye as she passes. She looks like she’s going to be sick, and he wishes he could tell her it’s going to be okay, but he has no idea. The Upside Down had nearly taken his life last year, and the thought of facing it again still makes him feel skittish. So much for bravery, but it was fucking scary and he’d done it then and he’d probably do it again if they have to, so he thinks he deserves a break for feeling terrified at the prospect.

“Did you check his mouth?” Dustin asks from beside the bed.

“His mouth?” Owens asks, looking at his scientist, who shrugs. “No, it seems we did not check his mouth, why?”

“There’s blood,” Dustin says, pointing. Eddie leans to see, and sure enough, there’s a minuscule smudge of blood at the seam of Steve’s lips.

“There’s blood,” Owens says at his scientist, aggressively, and then gestures toward the gear they’d carried in. They’d been afraid to move Steve out of the room, not sure what it would do to him if they couldn’t tell what was happening. He turns back to the group. “It’s possible he had a seizure, maybe he bit his lip or his tongue.”

Eddie barely hears, staring at the little smear of red, the open-eyes, the slack expression. The waking coma as Dustin had called it. He’s never seen it in person, but he knows it, the haunting familiarity of it, down to his bones, down to his soul.He swallows and leans over the bed, bracing himself with one hand, and touches Steve’s cheek. No reaction at all from Steve, but the touch echoes inside of Eddie.

“What are you doing?” hisses Nancy, and Owens grabs for him but Dustin knocks his hand away.

“Eddie,” Dustin says. “You’re not thinking…?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, absently. He uses a finger to pull Steve’s chin down a little, enough to part his lips and see teeth stained in fresh blood. He hasn’t even tried to swallow any of it, to clear his mouth. “Shit.”

“Boys,” Owens says, like a question.

“You know how to test it,” Dustin ventures.

“I know, just- shut up for a minute. Everyone.”

Eddie steels himself and maneuvers until he can just barely push past Steve’s lips, touch a fingertip against his tongue to introduce a fresh taste, something other than blood. Steve’s eyes close, a shudder twitching at his frame as he breathes out, the first reaction he’s had since Eddie and Robin had first found him. Eddie pulls back like he’s been shot at, hand tingling.

“Fuck.”

“What’s going on?” Robin asks, looking between the two of them like she’s going to climb over the bed and strangle them both if someone doesn’t start explaining what's wrong with her best friend.

“It’s not the Upside Down,” Dustin says, catching Eddie’s eye. He’s the only one Eddie had ever told. The only one that had stood a chance at recognizing the same symptoms Eddie just had. “Steve’s a Sentinel.”

“A what?” Robin says at the same time Mike says: “No way. No way, man. Steve?”

“Yes, Steve,” Dustin snaps, twisting to look at Mike.

“What’s a sentinel,” Max asks, exasperated, before they can begin to argue about Steve.

“It’s a person with vastly superior senses,, like practically a super power,” Nancy says, causing everyone to gawk at her. She shrugs one shoulder and adds: “I found out about it when we were trying to help Max. Sometimes one of a Sentinel’s senses gets so overpowering that they actually get lost in it, and it sends them into a- a sort of waking coma. If that’s what’s going on, then he needs a Guide.”

Eddie’s eyes close, lips pursing.

“Eddie,” Dustin says, wheedling.

“Eddie?” Robin prompts. She’s already caught on, then.

“Shit,” Eddie cusses under his breath, and then: “Shit, shit, SHIT. Fuck.” He balls up his fists near his head and then releases them. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“A party member needs you,” Dustin says firmly.

“He can’t- he-” Eddie stares down at Steve, lips now widely smudged with blood, breathing even and eyes still open, empty.

“Eddie?” Nancy says quietly, drawing his attention up. “Are you… a Guide?”

He nods, feeling sick. His mother had been one, when he was little. She’d taken off to Guide a Sentinel, had never come back. He’d sworn he wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t follow in those footsteps. Wayne had tried to teach him, but Wayne hadn’t know any better than Eddie had, hadn’t known more than Eddie’s mom had already taught him by then. Eddie had spent his life wanting nothing to do with this garbage, and it had somehow snuck right in the front door.

Everyone’s looking at him, though, so he sighs and closes his eyes to get away from them. “It’s not… exactly… casual,” he bites out. “Sentinels get… they don’t just change Guides, and I’ve never- I might mess it up, I’ve never done it before. I’m just supposed to make that decision for him? Possibly bind him to a fucked up Guide?”

“Well, it’s not like he can choose right now,” Dustin says, barbed. “So, are you going to do it or are you just going to let him die?”

“Die!” Robin exclaims.

“Hey, hey,” Owens says, holding his hands up, splayed, to tone down the volume. “No one is dying today. Young man, do you know of any other Guides nearby that we might call upon, if you don’t want to do it?”

The thought of someone else doing it only makes Eddie feel sicker. He’s not sure how much of what he feels is fear of messing up and how much is bone-deep rage at the thought of anyone else touching Steve. He’s not sure either feeling isn’t being caused by being this close to an active Sentinel in need of him.

“I’ll do it,” he snarls finally, because the thought of someone else doing it makes him angrier than the thought of messing up scares him. “Everyone else needs to get out, though.”

He’s sure he can wake Steve up from this, he just has no idea how Steve will come out of it- softly or violently or terrified… broken, because Eddie doesn’t do it well enough. He’s also just… he’s embarrassed, for himself on some level for his inexperience, but definitely for Steve, for them both to be as vulnerable as they’re about to be. He doesn’t want Steve waking up and being immediately subjected to the knowledge that everyone saw him like this.

Dustin stays until the last second, then gives his shoulder a squeeze and leaves as well. He peeks around the door the second before he closes it, and Eddie gives them all a minute to move away. They won’t all go- Robin and Dustin and probably Nancy will stay in the hall. It’s enough.

Gingerly, Eddie takes a deep breath and a seat on the edge of the bed, and reaches to brush his fingertips over Steve’s wrist. There’s no reaction, but he hadn’t really expected it to be that easy- he’d had his finger in the guy’s mouth a second ago and it didn’t wake him.

“Steve,” he says, quietly. “I’m uh… I’m really sorry about this.”

He wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrist more securely, and begins. “Steve, this is Eddie. I’m… I’m going to be your Guide, I’m going to help you out of your senses.” He keeps the words steady, measured, and pushes them forward. “Right now you’re focused on your sense of taste. You’re tasting blood, your own blood, and I’m guessing you got lost in it because of a nightmare. That’s going to happen again, but I’m going to be here for it, okay? From now on, I’m going to be here. But what I need from you now is to hear me.”

Steve’s wrist trembles in his at the words, hands shaking, and Eddie feels… something. It feels cheesy to call it a spiritual connection, the way his mother had, but maybe… primal. Animalistic, perhaps, but in a basic not a base way. Simple.

“Good,” he says, the corner of his lips curling when Steve’s eyes close at the single word. Alright, then. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposes. “You’re doing very well, Steve. I need you to keep being good, keep trying to get to me. Focus on my voice. Follow my words. Hear the pitch, the timbre, the cadence. Feel the vibration of it in the air. I’m calling to you, Steve. I’m calling you.”

Steve’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and Eddie feels a little thrill. It’s working. This is the terrifying part. A first fugue state like this is the most dangerous, shouldn’t even be attempted by a new Guide alone. Someone,anyone, should have been preparing Steve for this, he should have had a Guide picked out ages ago. They should have had an experienced Guide ready to help both him and his chosen Guide through it.

Not that it matters; this is what they have. Steve doesn’t know and Eddie isn’t prepared, butSteve can hear him now, he’s pretty sure, which means he stands a chance at getting him out of it. Unfortunately, this is the point that runs the risk of just shifting which sense he’s lost in, if he can only get Steve to hear him. A Sentinel lost in a new Guide’s voice is so, so much harder to pull out of it.

Split their focus, his mother had told him. He barely remembers. He hopes it’s enough.

Eddie loosens his grasp on Steve’s wrist, and slides his hand up Steve’s arm, applying pressure evenly until he reaches the shoulder.

“You’re doing so good, but I need you to split your senses again, Steve,” he says as he does it, giving Steve’s shoulder a hard squeeze. “I need you to feel my hands. I need you to listen to my voice, and feel my fingers, and my palm. Feel the pressure.”

He drags his hand down Steve’s chest, over the scars on his belly. Swipes his thumb gently over the edges of them, sure that the new skin is just as weirdly sensitive-not-sensitive as his own, produces the same weird gut-twinge as sticking a finger into his belly button too deep.

“Feel my thumb. Hear my words. Feel my skin, the fingerprint lines.”

He presses his fingertips just above Steve’s hip bone where there’s still skin, lightly at first, and then deeper. Steve makes a small, pained noise, his face scrunching up, and Eddie feels relief flood through him. He’s feeling it.

“Good, Steve, that’s good, you’re listening, you’re following. Come on, now,” he coaxes, adding his other hand to Steve’s arm as he moves the first past Steve’s hip, over his boxers and down his leg. “Hear me, feel me. Relax your senses, let go of the taste of blood, that’s not for you right now. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” He winces, eyes closing. Stupid. “Steve.”

Steve licks at his lips, clearing the blood, eyes opening even though they are still far away, glassy and unfocused. He can feel Steve… reaching for him, trying to anchor himself in all the senses that contain him. Eddie breathes out and in. Almost over.

“That’s right, there you go, good boy.”

Steve’s eyes tick in his direction when he says it, and Eddie leverages himself up a little so he is leaning his hands on Steve, pressing heavy upon him, as well as being in his line of sight. His hair drops down, framing his face a little dramatically, but Steve’s eyes tick again to meet his.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” he greets. “You see me? You hear my voice still, feel my hands? You’re coming out of a sensory fugue. I need you to focus on me, on coming back out of your own head, out of your sense of taste.”

Steve blinks, and his brow furrows a little in confusion, and Eddie’s breath rushes out of him at the recognition.

“Eddie.” It sounds like relief.

“Yeah, buddy,” Eddie says, so gently, as he leans back, taking pressure off his hands on Steve. “How’re you feeling?”

“Bad,” Steve says, closing his eyes.

“Nuh-uh, keep them open,” Eddie says firmly, reaching up to tap at Steve’s cheek with flat fingers. “You need to use all your senses for a few minutes, until you’re actually evened out again.”

“What?” Steve asks, but he does open his eyes, turns his cheek into Eddie’s palm more fully, pressing.

Eddie blows out a breath and withdraws his hand to rub at his own face. This cannot be happening to them. Of course it would happen to them. “I have some uh… bad news?” he offers weakly. “Do you know what a Sentinel is?”

“No?” Steve says, looking at Eddie’s hand like he might perish if it keeps on Eddie instead if Steve. Eddie puts it back on him, resting over Steve’s hand instead of his cheek.

“They’re… Well, you know how people think humans survived all the dangers of prehistoria because of, like, thumbs?” Eddie asks carefully, and Steve nods but looks confused still. “Not to discount thumbs, but a lot of humans survived because some of them were born with way, way, way better senses. They could see or hear or smell or feel stuff that no one else could, and it let them sense when danger approached. They guarded settlements, and allowed them to prepare for bad things. I guess you uh… you must be from one of those bloodlines, and… your… interdimensional adventures may have triggered you to come into your senses.”

“Come to my senses?” Steve says, confused.

“Nope, no, that’s different,” Eddie says with a smile he only partially manages to hide. The confusion, the pliancy, will wear off in a little bit. “Not sure that’s ever going to happen. For any of us. No, you came into your senses. Or one sense, anyway. I’m guessing your major sense is taste. You got lost in it.”

“Blood,” Steve says faintly. “All I could think about was the blood, the taste of it in my mouth.”

Eddie nods. “Makes sense. Bit your tongue during a nightmare and it was too much.”

“I don’t- I don’t understand. What do you mean got lost?”

Eddie runs a hand through his hair and scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s like… well, you’ve had panic attacks before right?” When Steve nods, Eddie gestures. “It’s like one of your senses having a panic attack. Except you can’t get out of it by yourself. It doesn’t go away on its own. You need a Guide.”

Steve looks up at him and then struggles up into a sitting position. He absently touches his wrist where Eddie’s touch still lingers, and glances around the room. “… You? You’re the Guide? My Guide?”

“Unfortunately,” Eddie says, trying to sound sympathetic. He is pretty sure that Steve Harrington doesn’t want to be intimately linked with Eddie “the freak” Munson, even if they have been tentative friends for while now. “But, you’re still new, like you’re still… there’s time to switch. You should have had your Guide picked out years ago. I have a number at home, we can call. There are other guides out there, y’know, you can get someone else.”

“Someone else?” Steve echoes, brow knitting. “You… don’t want to?”

Eddie swallows. God, he wants to. It’s just- “You deserve to get to pick,” he says softly, looking away. “I’ve never done it, I don’t really know what I’m doing, and it’s kind of uh… a full time gig. Live in, you know? And that’s… that’s hard even when you like the other person.”

Steve’s brow knits further. “You don’t like me?”

“No, I do,” Eddie says. He’s messing this up. He sighs. “It’s just, you…”

“You think I don’t like you?” he asks, cottoning on.

“I think you don’t know me like you should, to pick me,” Eddie says, heart twisting up for Steve. This is going to suck so much for him. Eddie really is going to throttle his parents for not teaching him any of this if they knew. He hopes they didn’t. “I’m- I’m loud and weird and-”

“I’m best friends with Robin and Dustin,” Steve interrupts. “You think I don’t like loud and weird?”

Eddie’s belly does a little flip, shaking up all the butterflies and sending them into a riot. “Do you?”

“I do,” Steve says. “And if… if you… I don’t really want to go find some complete stranger to live with, if it can be you instead. If you’re okay with it, I’m good with it. I’m glad it’s you, in fact.”

“Oh,” Eddie says.

Maybe he’s the one that’s slipped into a fugue state now, because this cannot be happening. He never thought he’d actually be dragged into being a Guide in the first place, had avoided it as best as he could. Certainly he cannot lucky enough to be found by a Sentinel he actually, desperately, wants.

He can be normal about this.

“So…?” Steve prompts gently, because Eddie never answered.

Failed step one, he thinks, so he smiles and tries to be normal. “Uhm, yeah, I mean, yeah, man.” He shrugs a little, smile turning genuine when Steve relaxes. “I can be your Guide. I’d like to, in fact,” he echoes Steve.

“Good,” Steve says, leaning back against the headboard and letting his head thunk back against it.

He looks fucking exhausted, Eddie thinks, wondering how long he was in that state. Getting lost used to kill Sentinels, if they didn’t find Guides quickly enough. Eddie’s never been so grateful for Robin being stubborn, making him drive her over, insisting on checking. Calling in the cavalry immediately.

Robin seems to hear she’s being thought about, because her voice filters in from the other side of the door when they’ve been quiet too long. “Did it work??”

Eddie grins as Steve laughs, and something within Eddie relaxes. They’re gonna be okay. They’ll be okay as long as they can still laugh.

“It worked,” Steve calls. “I’ll be out in a minute, just let me get dressed.”

Cheeks pinking again, Eddie hops off the side of the bed and stands, finally breaking contact fully. “I’ll just- I’ll leave you to that then.”

“Hey,” Steve says, shifting like he’s going to try to grab for Eddie even though he doesn’t. “Um… thanks, man. You really did save my ass this time.”

Eddie searches his face for some kind of joke, but there’s nothing but that strange, quiet earnestness he’s come to associate with Steve. He smiles, nods once, and heads into the hall to report to the others that Steve’s going to be just fine.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #my writing #stranger things fic #askbox prompts #also on AO3 #asks #hey maz #https://archiveofourown.org/works/42479181 #this is all I have planned but also it was really fun #and I'm a sucker?#so. there's that.

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vosh-rakh · 2 years

Text

means and ends

author’s note: every character in here, aside from my ocs ku-vastei and llethym, and the made-up amiliah dren, is a canon character in-game, even down to the nameless “npcs”. i did a lot of research for this fic lol. some of them have different positions/roles than they do in game, mostly owing to the passing of time and intervening events, as well as some artistic liberty. i’ve been working on this fic for a long time, and it’s quite a bit longer than my usual work, but i’m very proud of it, and i hope you enjoy it as well!

- - - - -

“I hope you see the problem here, Mistress Darvasa.”

The Adebaal Egg Mine is dimly lit by glowing egg-sacs, which cast a grave light on Ku-vastei’s face. The new master of Tel Branora, Darvasa Vedas, is glad for her flowing robes, and the slight breeze passing through the tunnels, that her quivering before the Archmagister is not visible. An Argonian wearing a slave bracer tends to a nearby kwama worker, pretending not to listen.

“Yes, well, Archmagister, you see…” began Darvasa, “we had purchased them before the ban had gone into effect, so we had thought -”

“Do not lie to me, Darvasa,” whispered Ku-vastei, her voice like the steel in her hand. “I’ve seen the deeds of sale. Besides, the ban on slavery was retroactive. It is also emancipatory.” The nearby Argonian slave perks their head up slightly, unable to hide their curiosity.

Darvasa is no longer sure she can hide her shaking. “Yes, yes, of course, Archmagister, but we needed workers for the mine, as you well know it is a major source of income for the tower, and not long before Therana’s untimely death somebody freed the slaves who had been working here previously, so we needed -”

“Yes, I know,” says Ku-vastei. She leans back a little and places her free hand on her hip. “I was the one who freed them.”

The enslaved Argonian can’t help but turn their head towards the free Argonian, and completely forgets about the kwama worker. But their attention is stolen again when the worker headbutts them.

Darvasa’s jaw dropped. “Before the ban went into effect?”

“The ban retroactively justifies my actions.”

Darvasa’s eyes close. “What shall I do, then, Archmagister?”

“Either free the slaves, or hire them as hirelings to the House and pay them fairly for their labor. I care not which, but the latter would likely benefit you in the long run.” Darvasa opens her eyes, and can barely see Ku-vastei’s lips move in the darkness; she appears as a scaled statue, leaning on an ancient spear, meting out divine judgment upon the mortals of House Telvanni.

“But…” Darvasa begins, but quickly changes her tune. “Yes, Archmagister, of course. I will hire them to the House.”

“Ensure they are treated as any other member of the House, Darvasa. And if this happens again, know that I will kill you.”

“Yes, Archmagister,” Darvasa says, bowing too low in presumed deference.

“One more thing,” says Ku-vastei as she turns to leave. “Where did you purchase these slaves?”

Darvasa straightens into a stiff line. “Oh, please don’t make me say,” she begs. “They said they’d kill me if I did.”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.” The Archmagister swings her spear in a small circle as she turns back, pointing it nonchalantly at Darvasa from a distance. But the physical threat isn’t necessary - the words themselves drip with such authority that the young Mistress can’t help but fear them.

Darvasa bites her lip and nearly collapses from how her legs shake. “Yes…yes, Archmagister. I bought them from…”

“Tel Aruhn?” Aryon asks as he and the Archmagister retreat to Tel Uvirith. “That’s impossible. We took care of the market there personally.”

Ku nods, remembering the bloodshed as a vivid red pinpoint in the recent past. “She wouldn’t say anything more.” She wipes ash from her eyes, kicked up from her shuffling through the dunes. “Apparently she had nothing to do with the purchase directly. We’ll have to investigate further.”

“You’ve shown unusual…restraint, in dealing with this so far, Archmagister.” Aryon walks ahead of Ku-vastei, proceeding backwards as he studies her face. His fierce brow furrows over his fire-red eyes. “You haven’t killed anyone yet.”

Ku smiles faintly. “We can’t be a House of murderers forever, Aryon. One of these days we’ll resolve most of our issues peacefully.”

Aryon grins, but there’s a concerned note to his voice when he asks, “Am I speaking to the true Hortator? Ku-vastei, bringer of fire and war?”

“In the times before slavery, Black Marsh operated similarly. War was an import from Resdayn.”

“I’m not sure history supports that claim,” Aryon says, returning to his place alongside Ku-vastei. “War is an integral facet of all cultures.”

“Regardless, perhaps it needn’t be.”

“Ever the idealist, Archmagister.” Aryon pats Ku-vastei on the back, but she doesn’t recoil from the touch. Strange future, she thinks, in which an elf - any elf - can touch my back without losing their hand.

When they arrive at Tel Uvirith, they are greeted by the Erabenimsun scouts who delivered Ku-vastei’s guest.

“Ilmeni Dren,” says Ku-vastei, bowing her head slightly. She glances at the Erabenimsun, who depart for their camp.

“Archmagister,” replies Ilmeni, who had been examining the fungal walls of the tower. She wipes her hands of the external dirt and turns to curtsy in the Imperial way. “Your reputation precedes you, both as Hortator and Ku-vastei, muthsera.” She says Ku’s name with a curious lilt, not quite the bizarre intonation of an elf attempting to speak Jel, but not quite the natural pronunciation of a born-speaker. It seems to suggest something beyond mere familiarity, but Ku-vastei can’t fathom what.

“As does yours, ‘lighter of the Twin Lamps.’ I hope we can work together to free Telvanni, and hopefully one day all of Morrowind, of the curse of slavery.”

“We’ll see, muthsera,” says Ilmeni, before turning to Aryon. Strange. That same hidden meaning. Oh well, Ku-vastei figures. I’ll discover it eventually. “And you are, muthsera?”

Aryon extends a soft, gloved hand. “Master Aryon of House Telvanni, oftentime companion to Ku-vastei. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Dren.”

“Oh, dispose of the pleasantries, would you?” Ilmeni smiles warmly, taking Aryon’s hand. “Nobody’s called me ‘Lady’ Dren in years. You can just call me Ilmeni.” She flashes a glance at Ku-vastei. “Or beeko, if it suits you.”

“Not so fast,” says Ku-vastei, returning a wry smile as she leans heavily on the Spear of Bitter Mercy. But hearing the Jel word disarms her slightly. She doesn’t feel the need to be quite so reticent around this particular Hlaalu.

“I understand not all is well in House Telvanni,” Ilmeni observes, taking a careful step back to lean against the wall of the tower.

“Yes. Why I’ve summoned you,” Ku says. “Not only has someone purchased slaves, but someone has been selling them, too.”

“Have you any suspects?”

“The buyer has been identified, and dealt with.”

“Dealt with?” Ilmeni narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. When Ku first met her, she wore commoner’s clothes, but she seems to have elected to dress for the occasion of meeting the head of a House, wearing a spotless blue robe.

“She’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” chimes in Aryon before Ku can react. “She’ll be freeing the slaves soon, if she hasn’t already.” Aryon seems to understand the mystery behind Ilmeni’s attitude whereas Ku-vastei does not. She’ll have to ask him about it if they get a spare moment, away from the Hlaalu.

Ilmeni sighs. “And the sellers?”

“Someone in Tel Aruhn,” Ku-vastei grumbles. “The old slavemistress is dead, as are her compatriots. So we’re not sure.”

“Dead?” Ilmeni asks.

“Yes. I killed them.” Suddenly, it dawns on Ku-vastei, and she smiles wickedly wide, her reptilian face almost snarling. “Is that a problem?”

Ilmeni looks down and shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. “That is the way of the Telvanni,” she says, then, under her breath, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“It is our way,” Ku says, not hearing quite what Ilmeni said but guessing the meaning, “and we’ll be sticking with it, for now. Just think of it like the Tong.”

Ilmeni looks up glumly. “I still don’t approve of the Camonna, no matter how reformed it may be under our new Grandmaster.”

“I meant the Morag,” says Ku-vastei. “I am Grandmaster of that order, after all. I know about honorable killing.”

Ilmeni gasps. “I thought Eno Hlaalu was Grandmaster?”

“Eno retired.”

Ilmeni steps forward. “Do you mean you -”

“No.” Ku raises a hand to stop the Dren’s advance. “He retired.”

“Oh.”

Aryon pinches the bridge of his nose. This is going to be a long day.

They teleport into Wolverine Hall’s courtyard with a crack as the air makes way for their presence. Aryon and Ku stomach it well, but Ilmeni wavers for a moment, then politely asks for a bucket. A nearby guard politely obliges. Aryon and Ku politely ignore her retching.

They walk slowly through Sadrith Mora, Ilmeni gawking at the mushroom homes, and at great Tel Naga. Some of the town’s residents give reverent bows to Ku-vastei, while others hide behind doors. As they pass near the Gateway Inn, they overhear an argument coming from the adjacent marketplace:

“I need these potions now!” exclaims a Dunmer, a mainlander from his lack of the coarse Vvardenfell accent.

Elegal, a Bosmeri trader Ku-vastei recognizes from her time spent in the city, smiles patiently and plants his hands on his table, his shoulders tightly bunched together. “Sera, I simply do not have any. You should have planned ahead.”

“But…I must have this potion! I have to see Master Neloth!” the Dunmer repeats, gesticulating wildly, exasperated.

“You could try the alchemist. Or apothecary. Or healer.” Elegal steps from behind his table and walks around to his irate customer. “I’ll even show you to one of them, if you’re lost.”

The mainlander quickly steps towards Elegal, shouting louder. “They won’t deal with me! Without your damn ‘Hospitality Papers’ that your Thrice-damned ‘Prefect’ won’t give me!”

Elegal smiles thinly. “Perhaps old Angaredhel doesn’t think you worthy of our hospitality,” he says, looking up at the Dunmer.

“You n’wah!” The Dunmer winds up his arm to sock Elegal in the face -

But something catches his wrist. A scaled hand firmly wraps itself around his cuff, keeping him from landing his blow.

“Oh,” he yells, spinning around, “and who is this animal laying hands on me - Oh.” He stops when he sees Ku-vastei, in her robes of Archmagister station, still holding onto his wrist. “Oh, by the Three.” He sways for a moment before his legs give way and he falls to his knees. “Please forgive me, Archmagister, I had no idea - I never meant to cause any trouble, I just needed to…” He stops his pleading, closes his eyes, and awaits his judgment, his hand still caught by Ku-vastei.

But something is gently placed into it, and his fingers pushed to wrap around it. He opens his teary eyes and looks blurrily up at Ku-vastei. “Archmagister?”

“Rising Force potion. Made it myself,” she says. “Apologize to this man, and then go do your business with Neloth.”

The Dunmer swears by every saint he can remember, thanking Ku-vastei and apologizing profusely to Elegal. Then he awkwardly walks away towards Tel Naga.

Aryon smiles, but Ilmeni wrinkles her face. “Not quite the Archmagister - nor Hortator - I’d heard tales of,” she whispers to him.

“She can be a gracious leader when she wants to be,” Aryon replies. “What kind did you expect?”

“I expect,” she said, quickly finishing her thought before Ku-vastei returns, “that we will find out today.”

Ku-vastei, Aryon, and Ilmeni pass through the circular gate at the Gateway Inn and proceed to the docks, where they charter a ship to cross the clear blue waters to Tel Aruhn. When they arrive, they are greeted warmly by Magister Endase Avel and a small entourage of her subjects, come to see the Archmagister of House Telvanni.

“Welcome, muthsera!” exclaims Endase, her yellow, red, and golden robes exquisite in the bright sun of the Zafirbel Bay. “It is a pleasure to have you here at Tel Aruhn, Archmagister Ku-vastei.” She spreads her arms wide with entreaty, then reaches out a hand. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Ku-vastei says nothing, but glowers at the new Magister. Aryon picks up the slack: “We’re here for an inspection, Endase. To ensure that this tower is complying with the ban.”

Endase smiles. “Yes, yes, of course, Aryon. And you are?” She gestures vaguely towards Ilmeni.

Ilmeni opens her mouth to speak, but she stops after Ku-vastei shakes her head. So she simply says, “An associate of the Archmagister’s.”

Endase tilts her head curiously, but doesn’t prod further. “Very well.” She points in the direction the former site of the slave market. “I shall lead the way. You may inspect the underground, as well. I assure you everything is very above-board here at Tel Aruhn.”

As soon as Endase turns her back, Ilmeni wrinkles her face and leans in to Ku-vastei’s ear. “Don’t trust her. She’s a snake.”

Ku laughs quietly. “How would you know?”

“Plenty of people like that in House Hlaalu. Not hard to spot if you know what to look for.”

The inspection is spotless. No signs of slaver activity, not a single bracer to be found. There are even some Argonians and Khajiit in the honest employ of the tower. Ku-vastei seems satisfied. Aryon wears a patient smile throughout. But Ilmeni keeps her arms loosely crossed the entire time.

When all is said and done, Endase asks, “Could I trouble you with tea? You must be dehydrated after your long journey.”

Ku-vastei almost accepts the offer, but a subtle glance from Aryon persuades her not to. “No thank you,” she replies. “I have other business I must attend to here. Privately,” she quickly adds.

“Of course,” says Endase, whose painted face is marred by a slight frown. “Don’t let me keep you.” Then she casts a spell, and flies to her tower. The crowd disperses somewhat.

Ku-vastei turns towards her companions. “Well?”

Aryon says nothing, and turns towards Ilmeni. She shakes her head. “It must be offsite somewhere.” She looks around, as though she’d be able to see a hidden slave market at a glance. “Ask some of the locals. Especially the beastfolk. They might be more open to answering your questions.”

Ku-vastei’s eyes scan the scattering throng. Tel Aruhn is a diverse place, home to many different peoples, but few beyond tower-servants seem to be beastfolk. But she catches a pair of eyes unmoving, making direct eye-contact. Slitted eyes. She begins to push her way through the bodies, making her way to them.

She finds a smiling Khajiit, tiger-striped and -maned, his arms wide open. “Ah, yes, S’Bakha has been expecting you,” he purrs.

“Expecting me?” Ku-vastei does not yet take up his offer of a hug.

“Well, this one knows exactly what you are here for. It is not difficult to guess. S’Bakha was a slave once, you know. S’Bakha worked hard all the time, and for what? Nothing at all. So now that S’Bakha has dropped his bracer, he rests. He lays around and lounges until his belly rumbles, and then he finds a tasty fish to eat out of these bountiful waters. It is good to be lazy, S’Bakha thinks.”

(These waters are far from bountiful, Ku-vastei mentally notes, being filled with mostly-inedible slaughterfish, but allows the Khajiit to tell his lie as he sees fit.)

“That is good to hear,” says Ku-vastei when S’Bakha takes a moment to breathe, smiling. “But please get to the point.”

“Of course, Ku-vastei,” S’Bakha grants, dipping into a brief bow. “The point is that while laying around all day, people forget S’Bakha is there. Or they think him asleep. And they speak as if he is not there. Many secrets they speak, and S’Bakha hears them all.”

“And pray tell, what secret do you have for us,” Aryon asks, “and what will it cost us?”

S’Bakha turns to the newly arrived Aryon, and shakes his head furiously. “Wise you are, elf, to question S’Bakha’s motives. But S’Bakha asks nothing in return for his generous offer of help.”

He pauses for a moment, and Ku-vastei is about to prompt him again when he continues, leaning in to whisper: “S’Bakha’s secret for you is this. They are kept and sold at a place they call Nammu along the mainland coast to the west of here. Tell none S’Bakha sent you, or he will surely be killed.”

Ku-vastei rubs her chin in contemplation, her tail swishing leisurely from side to side, brushing against Aryon and Ilmeni’s ankles. “Oh,” she begins after some time, “I don’t think that will be a problem. Because you’re coming with us.”

“Eh?” S’Bakha spits, his fur pricking up and his own tail setting straight. “You know S’Bakha can’t swim like you Argonians, right? Not even like a dark elf. Not very…smooth.”

“Oh, that won’t be an issue,” Ku-vastei says with a wicked smile.

S’Bakha had expected she meant they’d be taking a boat. Instead they walk on the water like sainted thaumaturges, and S’Bakha takes each step tenderly, like each one might fall through the taut surface of the sea. But Ku-vastei and Aryon, confident in their spellwork, stride across like it was a well-worn road. Even Ilmeni has played with water-walking potions in her youth, and is accustomed to the feeling.

S’Bakha begins to wish he’d kept his mouth shut.

They stop at a couple of islands along the way to renew their spells and rest, taking shade against the midday sun under Emperor Parasols. S’Bakha frets with his tail, at times cradling it like a newborn.

“Worried, S’Bakha?” asks Ku-vastei, watching him intently.

“Yes, actually,” answers S’Bakha. “S’Bakha imagines it is quite difficult to laze about with his guts scattered around him.”

“You’ll be fine. Everyone who might come after you will be taken care of,” Ku-vastei says, while Ilmeni frowns at this phrasing, “before day’s end.”

“That is,” Ilmeni adds, “assuming you’ve told us the truth.”

Ku-vastei glances wearily at Ilmeni. “I’m sure he has, of course.” Her eyes glide over to meet S’Bakha’s, who shies away from the contact. “Haven’t you, S’Bakha?”

“Of course,” S’Bakha quavers. But he remains silent the rest of the way.

They come to the mainland coast just as their most recent spells wear off, and S’Bakha says, “Here.”

“Here” is a small pool of water, disconnected from the sea, interspersed with large stones breaking the surface. There is a small cliff on the far side, but its face is sheer. There is no apparent entrance.

“S’Bakha,” Ku-vastei says, “What are we looking for?”

“S’Bakha doesn’t know,” he says. “It should be here.”

“Well, it’s not.” Ku grips her spear tightly in her claws.

Ilmeni stands to the side and looks around. “Hm,” she whispers, and she takes a cautious step towards one of the stones in the pool. Her foot lands firmly on its surface, not sinking at all. So she steps towards the next, and the next, until she finds herself at the cliff face. Ku-vastei is busy arguing with S’Bakha, but Aryon notices Ilmeni’s stunts and places a hand on Ku’s shoulder. She spins around on him, nearly poking him with her spear, but he simply points towards Ilmeni, who is now running her hands along the cliff’s surface, searching for something.

“Is there anything there?” Aryon calls out. “Some button perhaps?”

“Not that I can find,” Ilmeni returns. “But it looks like there should be something here.”

“S’Bakha told you so!” the Khajiit exclaims, earning him a scathing glance from Ku-vastei.

“‘Should’ doesn’t mean that there is, Ilmeni,” Ku notes.

“Perhaps there’s some kind of illusion, or enchantment upon the rocks,” Aryon says. “Endase is a skilled enchantress, after all.”

Ku-vastei tilts her head in acknowledgement, and runs her claws in front of her eyes, leaving behind a pale purple glow which slowly dissipates.

When she can see again, plain as day, she sees a door embedded in the rock.

Ku-vastei treads the stepping stones towards the door, meeting Ilmeni there. She tries the doorknob, but can’t find it. “Yes,” she says, “an enchantment. Not an illusion.” She starts to rummage through her bag.

“Do you have a solution for this in there?” Ilmeni asks.

“Sometimes,” Ku begins, pulling out various items, “a sloppy enchantment can be undone by a spell similar to soul trapping. I’ve done it once or twice to even the odds in battle against troublesome belts and rings.” Finally she retrieves a soul gem, its azure surface almost completely transparent. “Ah. This should do. You may want to step back.”

Ilmeni complies, stepping out towards the edge of the pool. Ku-vastei first taps the soul gem on the surface of the hidden door, mutters something Daedric, then steps back, soul gem raised in the air; it seems like an incredible effort, like the wall is pulling against her arm. Violet flecks suspended in paler light are ripped from the cliff face and absorbed into the soul gem, revealing piece-by-piece the door hidden beneath, until all is laid bare, and the soul gem glows with a milky lilac light.

“Some enchantress this Endase is,” Ku-vastei snickers.

“So shall we take care of this?” Aryon asks, having crossed himself to the other side of the pool by the door.

“S’Bakha is not going in there,” the Khajiit says, waving his hands in negation. “The leader is a battlemage, called Galmis Dren, who is dark in the craft, and -”

“Galmis?” Ilmeni interrupts. “No, you are not ‘taking care of’ my cousin.” She remembers back to when she heard Orvas was killed by the fledgeling Hortator, and remembers how she imagined what it would be like if it had been her father, instead.

She steps forward to confront Ku-vastei and repeats, “No, you are not killing Galmis, like you did to his father. You can arrest him, like a civilized person.”

“Your ‘cousin’?” Ku-vastei observes with a smug smile. “Does slavery run in the family, then?”

Ilmeni says nothing, holding her ground as she steps towards Ku-vastei again, only inches between their faces.

“Ah,” says Aryon. “The late Orvas’ eldest son. A high-ranking member of the Camonna Tong, if memory serves.”

“This killing is the way of your people, Ilmeni,” Ku-vastei says, ignoring Aryon and placing a hand between herself and Ilmeni. “He chose his fate.”

Ilmeni stares furiously into Ku-vastei’s eyes for a long time, but finds no relief. So, her eyes wet from the strain of not blinking, she turns her head away.

“Since you two will be staying behind, we’ll need to make sure you’re well protected,” Ku-vastei says, smiling at her easy victory. “Aryon, your Helper will do the trick.”

Aryon nods and extends his right hand. His glove glows yellow for a moment, and then suddenly, in a cloud of xanthous smoke, a trio of atronachs appear, representing each Daedric element. “Protect Ilmeni and S’Bakha, please,” he asks of the three, who each wordlessly bow to the best of their forms’ ability.

“Do not follow us or try to interfere in any way,” Ku-vastei says as she holds the doorknob, glancing at Ilmeni, “or I’ll kill you too.”

“Ku.” Aryon rests a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off. “Let’s just get going.”

The cavern is dark, dimly lit by the rare sight of a torch ensconced on the stone walls. Ku-vastei takes the lead, Aryon following soon behind.

Not far down the initial corridor, their footsteps bring attention to them. “Hello?” calls a woman’s voice. “Mistress Endase? Here for your inspection so soon? I thought it wasn’t for another…”

The two delvers reach the bottom of a decline, revealing themselves to the Redguard. She yells something in what Ku vaguely recognizes as Yoku and draws her sword. Ku springs forward, launching herself at her attacker. The Redguard slashes at Ku, but only ends up cutting her robes and clattering against the fine Orcish maille hidden beneath. Her jaw drops in shock at this reckless defense, and Ku uses the opportunity to pierce her throat from between her teeth.

There’s another defender, a Dunmer archer on a raised platform to the right, who seems to have been caught off guard practicing her archery on a stuffed target. She yells something in Yoku, her accent poor even to Ku’s untrained ear, and draws her bow, pointing her arrow at Ku-vastei. But Ku-vastei ducks nimbly to the side and avoids the shot. The Dunmer reaches for another arrow, but can’t find one in her quiver. She runs to the target to retrieve more, but Aryon flings a fireball at her before she makes it halfway there. She stumbles, sways backwards, then falls forward against the practice target.

There’s a bridge from the raised platform that connects to another tunnel on the right, but Ku-vastei is more interested in the tunnel directly ahead of them. “Split up?” she asks Aryon. He nods, and begins climbing the stairs to take on the rightward passage.

Ku-vastei plods forward through the tunnel, quickly meeting another defender. He’s unarmored and armed with only a pitiful dagger, and she’s able to dispatch him with a swift thrust from a distance. She continues on before reaching a massive chamber, with a ceiling so high Ku-vastei can’t see it in the darkness. From the center of a small lake rises a massive pillar, wrapped around with stairs towards a platform near the top.

“Come and get me,” a voice calls out from the spire, “you n’wah!”

Ku-vastei obliges the request, sprinting to the top of the tower. She’s nearly out of breath when she arrives, and sees a man who can only be Galmis Dren, his face obscured by a Dwemer helm. He’s holding a Khajiit slave by the collar over the edge of the platform. He wags his free finger. “Think long and hard about approaching me, n’wah,” he says, and Ku-vastei can hear the wicked smile calling out from beneath the helmet.

Ku-vastei stops in her tracks for a moment, calculating.

She marches ahead anyway.

“Bad idea,” Galmis tuts, and lets go of the Khajiit, who falls screaming towards the water below.

Then Ku-vastei runs towards Galmis. He begins to cast some spell, but it misses as Ku-vastei runs past him, and leaps from the ledge into the darkness.

She dives, trying to catch up, but sees the terror on the Khajiit’s face as she plummets and falls beneath the surface of the water. Soon after Ku-vastei breaks the surface herself, and beelines her way to the bottom, where the Khajiit’s slave bracer has weighed her down. She wraps her arms around her frail furry body and starts to kick her way up to the surface.

Once she arrives, she swims over to the platform where she first entered the chamber, and lays the Khajiit on her side, letting her cough up water from her lungs. Finally, the Khajiit finds the energy to speak: “Thank you, muthsera.”

“Are you alright?” asks Ku-vastei.

“Yes, this one will be fine,” she says, before coughing up another bit of water.

Satisfied, Ku-vastei runs back up the tower, but does not find Galmis. She takes the short way back down and swims back to the platform where the Khajiit is. By this time, Aryon has arrived, accompanied by a small gaggle of assorted slaves.

“Aryon,” she begins, her entire body burning from the running and climbing, “Did you see him leave?”

“No,” Aryon says simply, tending to one of the slaves. “But I could have missed him.”

Then they both look at each other as Ku-vastei says, “Ilmeni.”

They run to the exit of Nammu, the slaves barely able to catch up, the Khajiit who nearly drowned supported by a couple of her fellows. But when they finally get outside, they find S’Bakha, the three atronachs, and Ilmeni, who sits against the cliff face with her hands covering her eyes, unscathed.

“Dammit,” Ku-vastei says. “He must have teleported.”

“Where to?” Ilmeni asks, sounding somewhat relieved as she stands up.

“Wolverine Hall, if he Divine Interventioned. Perhaps Vos if Almsivi.”

“Or,” Aryon notes, “he could have Recalled to a preestablished Mark.”

“We’ll never find him,” Ku-vastei says, banging the butt of her spear on the rock below, startling the slaves. She sighs and scratches her chin. “Did you at least find the key?”

“Yes,” says Aryon. “One of the others had it.” He hands it to Ku-vastei. “I think you should do the honors.”

As Ku-vastei begins to unlock each slave’s bracers, she mentions, “I need to speak with Llethym. He needs to explain why the Camonna Tong are bringing slaves to my House.”

“I suspect I should speak with the Grandmaster as well,” Ilmeni adds.

Aryon nods. “I’ll get in contact with your Mouth, Ku-vastei. He can arrange the meeting.”

“Fast” Eddie Theman, Ku-vastei’s Mouth, does indeed arrange an audience with Grandmaster Llethym Hlaarothan of House Hlaalu rather swiftly. After dealing with Endase and getting the tear in her robe mended, Ku-vastei meets him at his office in the Hlaalu Canton of Vivec.

She knocks on the door, and is welcomed in. There are two seats arrayed before a grand desk, behind which sits the Grandmaster. He’s a thin mer, who Ku-vastei knows is capable of a lot of second-story work and assorted illegality, as how else could he have reached his position in the House? Perhaps the Duke Vedam Dren thinks him a noble figure, but even nobles can be deceived. Possibly flattered by Bug Musk, or some enchantment, or simple Illusion magic. None of these are beneath Llethym Hlaarothan’s moral standards.

In House Telvanni, you tend to just kill off anyone who gets in your way. And that suits Ku-vastei just fine.

“Welcome, welcome!” bellows Llethym, startling his other guest, already sitting in one of the seats. She turns to see who has arrived, and -

“Ku-vastei!” Ilmeni Dren shouts, her face wrinkling in displeasure as she turns her head back slightly towards Llethym, but never breaking eye-contact with Ku. “This was supposed to be a private meeting, Grandmaster.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Ku-vastei says, smiling.

“Well,” says Llethym, smiling sheepishly, “I thought I’d knock two racers out with one stone.”

“I’m ever so glad you took our wishes into consideration,” remarked Ku-vastei.

“Plus,” Llethym adds, “I hear you two aren’t on the best of terms.”

“Says who?” say Ilmeni and Ku as one.

Llethym clasps his fingers over his desk. “I’m not one to reveal sources, of course.”

Curse Eddie, thinks Ku-vastei, and Aryon too.

“Listen,” begs Ilmeni, “I don’t think there will be any sort of ‘reconciliation’ between us. She tried to kill my cousin.”

“Ah. Galmis Dren, of course,” Llethym says, stroking his stubbly goatee, his eyes wandering. “Firstborn of Orvas Dren. And of the late Amiliah Dren. A charming woman,” he says, not elaborating.

“A wicked aunt,” Ilmeni mutters. “And a long dead one too, thank the Three.”

“Listen to you,” notes Ku-vastei, “wishing ill upon the dead.”

“At least I’m not a murderer.”

“You of all people should know what it takes to end slavery. Or were you too soft? What did your ‘Twin Lamps’ ever truly accomplish?”

“Much,” Ilmeni says, rising from her chair. “And it’s enough. Nobody had to die for it.”

“Slaves have had to die for it. And it is never enough, not until every slave is free.” Ku-vastei’s fingers twitch at her sides, tempting magic.

“You would start a war over this, like you did before,” says Ilmeni, her voice rising. “You know the Dres would never give in peacefully. And the Indoril would support their rights. It would be Vvardenfell against the mainland, and you won’t stop until any who oppose you are dead. Even after the terrible losses of the Arnesian War, you would do it all again, just to satisfy your bloodlust.”

Yellow sparks begin to apparate at Ku’s fingertips, her claws wreathed in golden flames. Llethym notices where Ilmeni does not, and says, “Now, now. Let’s be civilized here. Enough quarreling.”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash on the door behind Ku-vastei. Then another, and a shout. Ku-vastei wisely takes a few steps back. Then another bang, and the door comes flying towards Ku-vastei, who catches it impaled on a summoned spear, catching on its kagouti-wings.

Behind that door is Galmis Dren, eschewing his usual robes for full battle armor, his full helm for his indignant face, and his axe for hands full of furious fire. Ku-vastei slides the door off her bound weapon so that she can see. “You again,” she says with a dramatic sigh. But her eyes are alight, and her entire body taut with energy. She jumps forward to strike, but even her conjured Daedric spear can’t penetrate his dense armor, scraping harmlessly to the side.

Galmis smirks. “You ruined my entire operation, n’wah,” he says, raising his flaming hands for the assault, “and you killed my father. And now, you die.”

Ku-vastei wishes she’d kept the door. She reaches out a hand with a ward, but she’s never been much good at Alteration. It’s a feeble aegis, and as soon as the blaze hits its violet surface, it begins to show cracks. She pours all of her remaining magicka into the shield, but it’s not enough. It explodes into a thousand scintillating shards, and the force of the blast pushes her back onto the floor, unconscious, sending her spear flying across the room.

Galmis steps forward, standing over Ku’s disarmed form, and prepares to land the coup de grace -

“Wait!” Ilmeni cries, reaching out towards Galmis. But to her surprise, Llethym is already up and standing next to him, placing his hand on Galmis’s Dwemeri pauldron.

“Son,” he says, “that’s enough.”

“Who are you calling son, ‘Grandmaster’?” Galmis tries to wedge a hand between him and Llethym, but seems to struggle in the armor. “I have no father. Not anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Galmis,” says Llethym, his angular face turned unusually soft. “I’m sure you’re aware of the old rumors. That your mother Amiliah wasn’t always faithful to your father.”

“Lies,” Galmis says, still focused intently on Ku-vastei. “Nothing more.”

“They weren’t. You see, long ago, but not long before you were born, I met a charming woman. She didn’t call herself Amiliah Dren, but I knew -”

“Shut up!” Galmis cries. “This isn’t about you.”

“- I knew that she was Orvas Dren’s wife. Our love was brief, yet long enough to -”

Galmis turns towards Llethym’s masterfully paternal visage. “That’s not possible,” he says, his face contorted in rage and grief. “I know who my father is.”

“Did you never wonder why he hated you so? Why he treated you as least among his children, even though you were firstborn?”

Gears turn behind Galmis’s eyes, and his expression softens somewhat. “That’s not…no. I refuse to believe this!”

“Believe it or not,” Llethym says, placing a delicate hand on Galmis’s face, “you are my son. Have you never looked at yourself? How little you favor your ‘father’?”

Ilmeni, so enraptured by the scene playing out before her, notices something minute that few others would have. She notices a gesture behind Llethym’s back, a half-closed hand and then a pointing. Old Hlaalu sign-speak. Her father had taught her as a child. She closes her eyes, contemplating what he was asking her to do. But then she glances at Ku-vastei, lying on the ground unconscious, and knows she has to.

She slowly raises her right hand towards Galmis’s face, and lets loose a gout of bright blue flame.

He screams immediately, pulling back from Llethym and clutching his incinerated face. He starts to cast wildly, blindly, charring the walls and ceiling, but misses Ilmeni and Llethym entirely. His screaming slowly fades into pained croaking as he collapses to the ground, writhing in agony as he chokes on the smoke of his own flesh. Finally, silence falls, and all that remains of his face is a blackened skull, smoldering azure.

Llethym attends to Ku-vastei, helping her to stand as Ilmeni falls to her knees. She feels wetness on her face, and reaches up with her hand to discover her eyes as the source. Llethym explains to a shell-shocked Ku what had just happened, and Ku thanks the two of them for saving her life. But Ilmeni doesn’t reply, staring into the far distance over her shoulder and trying very hard not to look at Galmis.

Llethym approaches her, kneels beside her, and places a hand on her shoulder. “You did the right thing, Ilmeni,” he soothes. “He was going to kill Ku-vastei, and probably you and I, if you didn’t intervene.”

“I didn’t know you knew magic,” Ku-vastei says, keeping her distance.

“My family is blessed by Azura,” Ilmeni says. “Skips a generation. Landed on mine. And his.” She glances towards Galmis, but quickly averts her eyes and looks up at Llethym. “How did you know?”

“I wasn’t lying to Galmis,” Llethym says. “I am the boy’s father. So I know a thing or two about the Drens.”

“Don’t you feel any remorse at all?” she asks, incredulous. “You just had me kill your son.”

“I never knew him as my son,” Llethym says simply. “Why should I have some special attachment to him?”

Ilmeni looks at Ku-vastei, who shrugs. “You’re both the same,” she says, “aren’t you? Or is that kind of callousness just what it takes to lead?”

“In a sense,” Ku answers.

“But we still care for the people we serve,” Llethym adds. “Enough even to kill for them.”

Ilmeni shakes her head, but begins to understand anyway, and wishes she didn’t.

“Ku-vastei,” says Llethym, “if you please. Tell an Ordinator there’s been an incident in my office, and that we have a corpse that needs removing.” Ku-vastei nods and leaves the room. The Grandmaster returns to his seat at his desk, and sips his tea. “Stinks to high-heaven in here.”

#tes #tesblr #oc: ku-vastei #oc: hlaalu llethym hlaarothan #my writing #telvanni #hlaalu #ilmeni dren #master aryon #i doubt any of these other characters have populated tags lol #even those are a crap shoot #morrowind #argonian #dunmer #khajiit

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saviourofzaun · 10 months

Text

A FOX CORRUPTED BY VENOM.

Continuation here | Alexis

“How are your living conditions? Far from the Lanes, close by? None-existent?” “Not what I'd prefer, but better than some alternatives. I'm in a cheap, crappy motel right now that has shared showers instead of private. If I'm to be honest, I'd quite happily move.” “A safety hazard. Very well. We recently got rid of a small gang that were staying in an abandoned building in the lanes. The place is not quite ready, but it should suffice. I will offer you a different hotel, one that is closer, cleaner, and not shared showers. Once the flat is done, it shall be furnished and ready to be used. Rent is not needed, since you are an employee, and you shall receive your monthly payment.”

It had been a few weeks since Alexis had started working for Silco. Like they had agreed upon, Silco arranged him everything he had promised. However, Silco wouldn't be Silco if he didn't check up on them from time to time.

And this was the first time he did so.

Silco had allowed himself the liberty to wander into the clinic, and it came with some looks, and gazes. If it weren't for his scars and his eye, it was for his status. The eye gave it away.

The Eye of Zaun.

Silco by this day did not know how to feel about it. Yet, he did not particularly care for it either. It was what came with his looks, what came with his name. By now, he had grown accustomed to it. However, there were times when he wished he wouldn't be noticed. He simply wished for simpler times.

As Silco had now made his way to Alexis, he watched how they worked tirelessly to safe the man's life, to stop the bleeding. Head tilting and eyes narrowing, the man observed them. Wasn't it ironic? Here they were, saving people their lives, only to be given a to-do list, only to take another's. Wasn't life cruelly beautiful?

As Alexis now had turned to wash their hands, Silco pulled out his flask and walked over. Opening it, he handed it to them. “I brought you some water.” The man did not even bother to let himself be known first. So, for Alexis to be a tad surprised, was understandable. Silco did not say anything else, and merely listened to what they had to say. For a moment, his head tilted as they headed out, only for them to beckon him to follow. So, like requested, he followed.

With long strides, and steady footsteps tapping on the floor, Silco followed. Once outside, he himself lit a cigarette before handing the lighter to the doctor. Inhaling deeply, and slowly exhaling, his expression was as unreadable as ever. “I wanted to see how you have been fairing.” The Eye of Zaun began, taking another drag from the cigarette. “I figured it was important for me to see how things are going down here, and if my new doctor needs anything.” There was a brief pause before he pulled out a neatly folded paper out of his inner pocket.

Of course. Of course, there was something else to his visit.

“I have your first job ready for you. Can either be done tomorrow or the day after.” Between long fingers, he handed Alexis the paper. “Two people, they're not expecting anything. All the information you need is written down on here.” His heterochromatic hues narrowed a touch as they fell on Alexis, along with a ghostly smile growing. “I need the information from them. After that, you can go all out if you wish.” He took another drag.

“I don't care how they die, just make sure they're dead.”

#goldenmedic #》 𝘼 𝘼𝙈𝘽𝙄𝙂𝙐𝙊𝙐𝙎 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⎯ (𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚; 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙩).#》 𝙋𝙊𝙒𝙀𝙍 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔𝙎 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒𝙎 ⎯ (𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙘𝙤).#》 𝘼𝙒𝘼𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂'𝙎 𝙅𝙐𝘿𝙂𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 ⎯ (𝙞𝙘).

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eadanga · 10 months

Text

The Royal Romance Chapter 5 Part 2

They head outside and Riley grins as she spots the limo outside the palace “Wow I can get used to this”

Maxwell grins “Get used to it little blossom”

They get inside the limo and after they pull away from the curb Bertrand turns to Riley “Now as we mentioned earlier how you come across the Cordonian people is very important the press can make or break you what the press writes the people read if the people love you then it’ll be easy to convince them you deserve their prince”

Maxwell nods “So you got to impress them so to speak you’ll be surrounded by a bunch of them as soon as we pull up to the Downs”

Right no pressure Riley nods “All right what kind of questions should I be expecting?”

Bertrand give a small nod “It’s depends on who’s giving the interview they’ll start with the easy questions who you are and where you are from that sort of thing”

Maxwell places a hand on her shoulder “People want to understand your story so think about how you want them to see you”

“Then the hard questions I don’t know what they’ll ask but”

Riley smiles “Be myself”

Bertrand scoffs “Heaven’s no be a future queen who loves Cordonia and acts with grace and poise” He leans in “And for the love of king and the country if they ask you about Cordonian Apples make sure you take it seriously”

Riley turns to Maxwell confused “Cordonian Apples?”

Maxwell nods “It’s the national fruit and one of our most important exports”

Riley leans back “Ah got it”

Bertrand raises an eyebrow “Do you? How confident are you felling about this?”

Riley smiles “I feel great it’ll be fun”

Bertrand frowns “I hope your overconfidence wont be your downfall”

Riley rolls her eyes He’s very irritating

Maxwell grins “We’re here!”

Riley looks out the window and sees the racetrack and people with hats and beautiful colors as they watch the horses line up to the track

Riley grins “Wow this is so exciting it’s like being at a fair”

Bertrand frowns “A fair? No this is no country fair where you weigh pigs and eat pie this is the outdoor event of the social season”

Riley sighs as Maxwell opens the door for her smiling “This is your stop m’lady”

Riley looks at him confused “You’re coming with me right?”

Bertrand shakes his head “No we don’t need to be interviewed”

“Ok but where am I supposed to go after I talk to the press”

Maxwell gives her a smile “The ladies vying for Liam’s hand have their own section just continue down the red carpet and find the pink tents you’ll be fine”

Riley steps out the limo as Bertrand nods “We’ll see you out there”

The limo pulls away as Riley closes the door she takes a deep breath “Ok here I go” She starts walking down the track and a bunch of press surround her

A man with a baseball cap and camera approaches her “Over here Donald Brine from Cordonia Broadcasting Center we’ve heard about the new lady on the social scene what’s your name?”

Riley gives her best smile “I’m Lady Riley Brooks from House of Beaumont”

Donald grins “Our viewers care about getting the real story tell us about yourself”

“I’m just a girl from New York whose heart had led her to be swept up in the affairs of the nobility”

“And how’s that going for you?”

“I feel like I’m living in a fantasy”

He scribbles on a notepad “A fascinating spin now I heard rumors that your Prince Liam’s favorite what do you think makes you stand out”

Riley smiles “I shared his love for the statue of Liberty”

“A true American girl” He grins “Can I get a photo of you?”

Riley smiles “Of course”

He raises his camera and Riley gives her best smile He grins “Wonderful your just wonderful your very photogenic” He walks away he mumbles under his breath “The mystery woman sweeps Derby red carpet”

A blond haired woman walks up to her “Lady Brooks I’m Ana De Luca on behalf of Trend fashion and celebrity news magazine” She grins “Now to get into it as an outsider what do you think of Cordonia?”

“Cordonia? It’s a country full of charm and wonder”

Ana nods “The people would be very happy to hear that now if you were to marry Prince Liam you’ll be our next queen what qualities make you fit to rule Cordonia?”

“I can rule Cordonia because I’m graceful and composed the people can trust me to look out for them and keep a cool head in a time of a crisis”

Ana nods “That’ll be a nice soundbite now last question how would handle news about low crop yields from the Cordonian Apple orchards”

“My first act will be to comfort the people I know how important Cordonian apples are to the country and the people”

Ana smiles “I can use that” She grins “Looks like that’s all time we have today”

Riley smiles “Of course thank you”

She walks away from the press and looks around Now I’m supposed to meet the other ladies somewhere Riley looks around for the tents Maxwell mentioned but sees no sight of them she groans “Great I’m completely lost” She walks around till she sees as stable and enters inside “Hello is there anyone in here I can use directions”

Suddenly a gust of wind slams the door shut Riley jumps at the sound and hears a crash and sees a frighten horse charging. Her eyes go wide and she turns to run. The horse catches up and at the last moment someone darts right in between her and the horse. Riley falls back into a pile of hay and looks up to see Drake patting the horses nose

“Whoa there Whoa” They lock eyes with each other “Nothing to worry about big fella I’ll get this girl out here for you” He returns the horse back to it stall then heads to Riley “You ok there Riley?”

“Drake?” Riley’s eyes narrow “Are you following me?”

Drake raises an eyebrow “Does that matter now?”

Riley lifts herself off the pile of hay and crosses her arms frowning “Yes”

“Ok fine I was following you but in the bodyguard kind of way not in the stalker way”

“Feels kind of stalkerish to me”

Drakes sighs running his hands through his hair “Look the truth is Liam told me to keep an eye on you and make you don’t end up in the wrong place exactly like now”

Riley blushes “He told you that?”

Drake nods “Yeah good thing I was following his instructions huh? Speaking of which you should get back to the racetrack and your adoring fans”

“I’d love to but I’m lost Maxwell told me to find the pink tents?”

Drake shakes his head “He’s wrong you’re looking for the white tents next to the starting line can’t miss them good luck”

“You’re not coming with me?”

Drake smirks “No I’m due to meet Liam he has his own private tent we usually hang out there get some drinks watch the ceremonies place our bets on the horses it’s pretty sweet”

Riley grins “I’m coming with you”

Drake looks surprised “What?”

“Sounds more fun where your going take me with you”

Drake shakes his head “I don’t think your allowed to do that”

“I’m still gonna follow you to there even if you say no and what are they gonna do throw me in princess jail”

Drake shakes his head but doesn’t stop her from following. They head to one of the private tents around the racetrack

“Here you go ahead I’m gonna grab some beers for us”

Riley nods as Drake hands her a pass then walks away. Riley heads into Liam’s tent and spots him looking intently at the track Riley feels her face heat up Damn is it possible he got even hotter than yesterday Riley tiptoes into the tent and playfully covers his eyes she feels him tense up and smiles “Guess who!”

He relaxes then grins “There’s only one person who could sneak up and find me here Riley”

Riley giggles and removes her hands “Correct!”

Liam turns to face her “However in the world did you manage to get in here?”

Riley smirks “I have my ways”

Liam chuckles “I should know not to doubt you now I’m convinced you could move mountains if you wanted to Riley”

****

Liam smiles at her and takes in her dress Wow she looks so beautiful in that dress I wonder what it’ll looks like underneath it

“Speaking of which I just had a funny conversation with Drake he said that you told him to look out for me”

Liam lets out a breath “Ah right guess you caught me I did say that to him” Hope I didn’t offend her with telling him that

Riley smiles “That was very thoughtful of you”

Liam smiles “I’m often thinking about you Riley”

More than I should

He looks at her lips

God I wanna kiss those lips so badly

Tags: @indiacater @mfackenthal @the-soot-sprite @gkittylove99 @iaminlovewithtrr @princess-geek @ta-sayeed

#the royal romance #the royal heir #Royal Romance #choices trr #trr liam #trr/trh #king liam #Liam Rys #choices fanfiction #choices fan fiction #choices fandom

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arolesbianism · 3 months

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I’ve been too tired to draw much today but then I got some midnight motivation so here’s some concept doodles for hypothetical stalien Jackie and Olivia (with some creative liberties taken)(also rambles under the cut)

Now as I’ve already mentioned the closest to their canon jobs I can give them is in the conveyor facilities, but in particular they’d likely be working at the one that’s mostly supplied by the rejects hatched at the nursing facilities owned by a different corporation that works closely with the one that runs the conveyor facilities, as that is where we find a lot more “research” as opposed to product production and engineering. Given that this would likely leave Olivia in the surgeons branch and Jackie in the data filter branch, this means that the two would have likely been trained together since they were lil kids, and likely would have been from the same hatching period. Also they might honestly be in a similar age group to Wonderful, although I’d probably more so place them as a couple years younger, meaning they’d likely not have interacted with her much until she became their new boss.

As for my notes, staliens are quite large so I of course had to scale up their heights in my mind to fit, with Olivia being very much short by stalien standards, basically just edging the point of concerningly short (basically anything under 6 foot), and Jackie being notably tall without being like stupid tall (9 foot or taller), giving them a pretty large height gap lol. The two also just have general body types that would likely give them an almost sickly look to most ppl, albeit not strongly enough that it’d draw concern. In Olivia’s case, her constantly active energy would both add to and take away from the sickly vibes due to how stalien bodies tend to react to being malnourished, with small size and overly active energy both being potential effects from two very different types of starvation reactions. In Olivia’s case, she’s just short and stressed. Stress tends to cause blood to pool at the face as a preparation for energy usage in survival scenarios, and when no energy is actually used the blood tends to just sorta leak out of energy glands. This isn’t too big of an issue for single instances of stress, but with constant stress it can become an issue if one’s body doesn’t get the hint. Due to this, Olivia keeps her energy active more often than not, both because of risk of excessive blood loss, and because she ideally doesn’t want to be bleeding all over her work.

Jackie’s energy is a pale variant, which basically means that her body has less energy in it than a typical stalien. This doesn’t effect her too much, but it does mean that she can’t rly utilize her energy in any significant manner, albeit even if she had the option I doubt she’d utilize it much due to how much risk there is for a reward that ultimately wouldn’t benefit her much on its own. She also has four antennae, which does actually affect her a bit more due to the typical stimulation issues that come with them. Thankfully Jackie isn’t the one of the two that has to work in busy stimulation packed parts of the facility most of the time, and she largely would spend her time in a more office like space, occasionally popping into the manufacturing branch to request supplies and make test build requests. Most interactions with Olivia and other surgeons would be within her own chambers, so she’s rarely having to even see the worst of things.

And lastly some light elaboration on the pronouns, blah blah blah stalien pronouns aren’t gendered since staliens don’t have gender and are instead based on a mix of status and relationships, meaning that while most have a primary pronoun, pronouns are highly situational and different staliens use different pronouns depending on who they’re talking to. Jackie and Olivia would likely use less formal pronouns when talking to eachother for example. Basically just imagine it as two scales of “formal to informal” and “negative to positive”, but with a bit more social nuance for how they’re actually used + some of them also double as like actual words so things get kinda muddy a lot of the time. Anyways, both of them most commonly use very formal pronouns as they basically live at their jobs and are interacting mostly with coworkers and higher ups. Olivia uses a slightly negative leaning one mostly to come across as more polite, while Jackie uses a very neutral formal pronoun to come across as more strictly professional, basically giving off more of a “we are here for business only” sort of vibe. They probably do or at least used to use more causal pronouns for each other in private tho, likely either going very casual positive or neutral very positive, with the former being what you’d use for very close friends, and the latter being for someone you consider a pure equal, which is funnily enough most often seen as incredibly rude to use if you aren’t extremely close to the person. Either way, I imagine in more professional settings Jackie tends to refer to herself with more formal positive terms and to Olivia with formal neutral terms, and Olivia refers to them both as mostly formal but not super duper formal neutral terms. Oh they’d also 100% have different names but yknow that’s a given with stalien language

#keese draws #oni posting #eternal gales #not main tagging this since this won’t make much sense to most ppl lol #anyways! I like to imagine these two would accessorize more if they weren’t in the facilities #the glasses are the creative liberties btw as previously discussed they by all means would not even be able to commission them #also the eye colors they aren’t rly entirely realistic but it’s the best I could stretch them to #everything else is up to code tho #I like to imagine jackie’s voice as a stalien would be almost kazoo adjacent #she also probably makes a lot of throat clicks noises when annoyed and stressed #olivia would probably have a more clunky voice that tends to stutter due to generally slower speech #this means her speech would probably be riddled with tics to account for vocal readjustment #anyways I need to go shower pls indulge me in my fully self indulgent au thoughts #feel free to ask questions if anything confuses or interests you Ill take any excuse to ramble abt worldbuilding

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anoddopal · 1 year

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Had some Star Wars thoughts as of late. 😔

Grand Admiral Th.rawn has been one of my F/Os for 5+ years. He’s a very important character to me, despite me not posting a lot about him on this blog.

The relationship between him and my S/I is one of the (previously mentioned) pairings that was fleshed out verbally/offsite with an individual who is no longer in my life.

Since he’s going to be featured in A.hsoka- the follow up show to Rebels- this August, I figured I should try to work on healing from the negative impact that stems from thinking about this particular selfship of mine… and even SW in general. So, it’s time to come up with new ideas; to create positive memories that will soothe over old ones.

I’ve started making headway. For instance, my S/I used to be Opal, but as of late last year she was reimagined as Bonn (the same person tbh, she’s just a space bunny now).

I still have a lot to work out as far as how their relationship begins. Starting from scratch in this regard has been a bit daunting to figure out. Th.rawn and Bonn, once established, make for a multifaceted couple. There are older posts explaining them a bit more HERE and HERE. ❤️‍🩹 Of course there’s a lot more to be said, but the linked posts are a very basic gist of how they work. All I know for sure at the moment is that they meet at a traveling art exhibit on Coru.scant; some time before he’s of Grand Admiral status.

Another point of contention is to work out what will happen once he has returned.

In the original storyline that came about, we went waaaaaaay off the tracks to compose our own silly agenda. Heh. “Canon defiant” with many “artistic liberties” are the best terms to describe it. ⬇️

After Th.rawn was yoinked into unknown space Bonn joined the rebel cause. She wanted to keep herself and children safe (two fankids that may be retconned at this point in time, or they may only apply to AU settings), so she thought the best way to do so was blend in with the organization that her husband had been at war against for so many years. Bonn never (and will never) believed in the ideals of The Empire. And since she was in the throes of depression after Th.rawn disappeared, the Rebels gave her an opportunity to put her mind and talents to use in a bid for the greater good.

The headcanon world ended with a sort of “happily ever after” theme. Five years after the fall of The Empire, Th.rawn (and E.zra too!) would be located and return home safely. Honestly writing too many more details is emotionally difficult for me to process, so I’ll just say everything works out: emotional reunion, Bonn and Th.rawn retire away to Naboo to raise their family, rest of SW canon progresses like it would, blah blah blah.

I’m still considering sticking to a lot of the elements mentioned above and using them to create a Happy Ending AU!

But as for working off of what will become canon in the coming months…?

I suppose I’ll just have to see what Disney has in store. Something tells me I’ll be taking a bit of a canon-derivative path regardless. One thing I know for certain is that Bonn and Th.rawn will be reunited before the series begins. Th.rawn is an individual who possesses loyalty as a favorable trait- and while that loyalty is deeply rooted in his career, it extends to his wife as well. Bonn would be one of the first to know when he returned from the great unknown. Of course, this would make for a conflict of interest if Bonn had dedicated her life to the Rebels by then… so for now, all I can say for certain that she went into hiding. Maybe she helps the cause in small, subtle ways that allow her to continue to stay off the grid. ;n;

Thanks for listening to my rambling… I have more thoughts, but this is all I have the bandwidth to share for now. ✌️❤️‍🩹

#S/I: Bonn #artistic admiral husband

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instafuck · 2 years

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i love that the casting crew for titanic didnt know the actor they casted for fabrizio didn't actually have an italian accent but figured if it fooled them it would fool audiences - and then it absolutely fooled no one and everyone immediately clocked it as one of the most ridiculous fake accents in a blockbuster movie to date

#instafuck #The adr on the king of the world scene #where he yells #i can see the statue of liberty from here! very small of course #he sounds absolutely fucking RIDICULOUS #It sounds like an almost racist snl skit

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miekasa · 3 years

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homecoming (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: college au, how many ways can i fit levi’s captain status into the modern world, fluff

↯ notes: i love levi :// and i’m out of gifs to put at the top of these, so when i learn how to make headers i’ll let you guys know. also this isn’t proofread rip in peace

↯ summary: there’s a pretty well known homecoming tradition, and levi’s hoping you’re willing to partake in it.

“So,” you hum, wiping away any crumbs from your mouth, “Are you going to tell me exactly why you wanted to have a picnic at 2:30 in the afternoon on a random Thursday, or am I supposed to wait for a grand reveal?”

Levi rolls his eyes, and sips on his wine, ignoring your incoming giggles. “Can’t I want to take you on a date?” he clicks his tongue, setting his, now empty, plastic wine cup onto the picnic blanket, “Ungrateful brat.”

You smack him on the arm, mouth open in offense; but Levi’s chuckling, shoulder’s shaking at your reaction. “I am a very grateful brat,” you correct him, “But I am also very suspicious one.”

Levi hums, not bothering to reply. Instead, he separates the two halves of his sandwich, wraps one half around a napkin, and hands it to you. You accept it, albeit a little hesitantly, and watch as Levi pays you no mind, biting into his half neatly.

If it were any normal situation, you’d probably try to snap a picture of him—you have somewhat of an ongoing collection of sneaky pictures of Levi on your dates, particularly when he looks cute munching on his food, much to his disdain—but this was not a normal situation.

Levi is acting strange. It’s not just the nature of this date itself—it may be out of character for Levi to want to go on a picnic of all things, but could be quite the romantic at heart, and often planned very quaint dates for the both of you. It was everything that happened since you set up your picnic that was truly out of the ordinary.

Like the way he seemed distracted, getting lost in thought in a way you hadn’t seen before; and how he kept sweeping his hair out of his eyes, and readjusting his small silver earring. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s nervous about something.

“Seriously,” you say lightly, carefully setting your half-eaten portion of the sandwich back onto the blanket, “What’s this all about?”

Levi looks at you for a beat, once again using his free hand to brush his dark hair behind his ear, then with suspecting eyes, “You don’t like it?”

Your eyebrows draw together at his questioning, confused by the lack of sarcasm, or even hurt in his tone; like he was genuinely surprised.

“What? No, Levi, that’s not what I meant,” you assure him, “I just mean that this isn’t really us. You hate eating outside—you always make us wait for indoor seating—and, if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen a couple go on a picnic in real life.”

Levi reaches to pour more cheap wine into your faux glasses, “I guess romance really is dead.”

You squint your eyes, carefully tracking his movements as he hands you a plastic cup before refilling his own. Levi isn’t one to dodge questions, or any kind of confrontation. Now you know for sure that something’s up.

“Levi,” you call gently, feeling like you finally have his full focus when his eyes meet yours, “What’s going on?”

His gaze softens at your question this time, and you finally see a hint of the Levi you know behind his expression. He sighs, carefully closing the boxed wine, and taking his cup into his hand. With a slight head nod, he motions for you to come closer, and you obiiently shuffle closer to him, until you’re sitting side by side.

You take the liberty of resting your head on his shoulder, cheek soft against his coat. You can hear him take a deep breath, feel his exhale deflate his shoulders, before he speaks.

“Homecoming is next weekend,” he starts, “You’re going, yeah?”

You hum in affirmation, watching as he takes a careful sip from his cup before continuing.

“There’s this tradition. It’s stupid as shit, if you ask me, so you don’t have to say yes,” he mumbles, lips barely off of the plastic, before he takes another sip. “But, if you’re dating someone, they’re supposed to show up to the game in your jersey.”

You snap your head up from his shoulder, blinking at Levi and the implications of his words, as you begin to piece together the mystery of his actions from this afternoon. Levi—your Levi—took you on a picnic, complete with homemade sandwiches and cheap wine, to ask you to be his date to his homecoming game.

Your stunned silence is filled with light breeze that brushes past your hair, and makes Levi return to brushing his away again. He drinks in your expression, grey eyes growing cloudy as he assumes the worst of your silence.

“Like I said, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he explains cooly, bringing his cup to his mouth again for a bitter sip, “I didn’t know if you were going to stick around for the whole day anyways, you’ve probably got other shit to—”

You kiss him quiet. Levi is surprised at first, jolts a little bit when your actions cause him to spill some of his drink, but he kisses you back, a small wave of relief washing over him. At least he didn’t make a complete fool of himself just now.

“Of course I’ll wear your jersey, Levi.”

Most parents and alumni stuck around for the traditional football game, but the boys’ soccer team was always popular amongst students, and for good reason.

Not only did the university’s team have an exceptional record, but they had no shortage of eye-candy playing for them, either. Even the team’s managers were pretty cute. You were certain players like Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger were not plastered all over the university website solely for their soccer skills.

Though, good looks aside, they were undeniably good, and made a damn impressive pair on the field. However, most of the crowd would agree that Jaeger, Arlert, and the entire team, could thank their captain for their win today.

You step onto the field with a wide grin as you watch Levi’s team wrangle him into the middle of their circle and toss him up in the air unceremoniously. You almost want to capture the moment for yourself, but to your left, Hange is already recording a video you’re certain Levi would threaten to have deleted.

Most of the mob had fizzled away after the exciting win, leaving behind the team themselves, and a couple of students—likely friends or family of the athletes. After their final huddle, the boys begin to dissipate, greet the remaining crowd. Hange leaves you to badger Erwin, who had been sitting out due to an injury.

You spot Levi carefully picking up his duffel bag, and take the opportunity to run up to him, encase in a sudden and warm hug. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Levi has but a moment’s notice to secure his hands around your back and steady your bodies, lest you both fall to the ground from your uncoordinated momentum.

“You played so well!” you exclaim, pulling back from your hug, but keeping your palms on his shoulders, bouncing excitedly, “I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good! You’ve never played like that before!”

Levi admits to tuning out your praise in favor of drinking in your appearance. The green of his away jersey looks good against your skin, the fabric somewhat loose on your frame. His eyes trail down to the sleeve, a minuscule smirk growing on his lips as he reads his last name in all capital letters underneath his number.

“Come on, Hange and I are taking you guys out for lunch!” your words snap him back to reality, “Anything you want, it’s on me, Captain.”

Levi rolls his tongue against his inner cheek. That’s a promise he’d have to take you up on later. For now, he plays along with your childlike enthusiasm, agreeing to your plans.

He motions for the two of you to get going, but his stride is blocked when you refuse to move from in front of him. Instead, you let your hands crawl from his shoulder to his neck, fingers tickling the hairs at his nape, before you pull him forward into a gentle kiss.

“You really were great, Levi,” you tell him again, pressing another kiss to his lips sweetly.

Levi hums, indulging you one more time, before he hears gasps and not-so-subtle exclamations of “Captain has a girlfriend?!” coming from his annoying teammates. He scoffs when he pulls back to see Jaeger looking at him with his mouth open so wide he could catch flies.

“You’re kind of ruining my reputation,” Levi tells you, but there’s no real bark to his tone.

It’s your turn to scoff, slowly trailing your hands down his arms, and eventually back to your side. You turn and the both of you begin to walk, not before you note, “You ruined your own reputation when you invited me and Hange here.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Hey!” you whine, frown deepening as Levi chuckles at you, “You’re not supposed to agree, asshole.”

Levi doesn’t stop laughing, but gently wraps his arms around your shoulder as the both of you follow behind Hange and Erwin, and back to your car.

“Don’t think your unusual displays of affection are going to make me forgive you,” you pout, but reach your hand to wrap your fingers around his anyways; Levi doesn’t even bother to hide his smirk, “I don’t care if you scored the winning goal or not, just for that, I’m only buying you one appetizer.”

Levi hums noncommittally. That’s fine, he could think of at least three other things he would rather you do for him instead when you both got home. With and without that jersey on.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #eren x reader

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fanficshiddles · 3 years

Text

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 9

Kelly shut the curtains as soon as she got into the rather shabby B&B room. But it was the best she could afford in the meantime, she had no idea how long she was going to have to be on the run for, so didn’t want to blow all of her money too quickly.

She’d managed to budget herself to last on the run for around a year. She had to include hair dye into the monthly budget. As even though it had been two months, she had no idea if Loki was still looking for her or not, so she only went out in disguise to be on the safe side.

She was still not over what happened, what was still happening. And she knew it was all her fault, she would never be able to get over it. She had unleashed the monster, literally.

Not bothering to turn the TV on, she just got into bed and tried not to think about it all. The news was always filled with Loki now, and how he was conquering the world. Country after country was flocking to kneel under Loki’s rule. Otherwise, he was slaying every country that dared to defy him. Which soon brought them to heel, before they lost everyone.

Kelly was really jumpy, every noise right outside her room had her entire body going ridged, expecting the worst. It took her heart a while to stop racing after each noise. She knew she couldn’t carry on living like this, but she didn’t know what else to do.

Turning onto her side she curled up and cried herself to sleep, like she did every night. But her sleep was never peaceful, it was always laced with nightmares. Always of him. Most of the time, he was looming over her with her sisters’ body at his feet.

She woke up in a sweat, calling out for her sister. How she wished everything was just a nightmare, but no. She was living a nightmare.

Keeping on the move was her plan, so since she was awake anyway, even though it was only five in the morning, she decided to move on to the next place to stay. She had made it all the way up to Edinburgh by foot mainly but also a couple of bus trips. She just kept moving around from city to city, town to town. Wherever she could get to.

As Kelly made her way down the road, there was just a few people going about at that time of the morning. But she kept getting shivers down her spine, and not from the cold. It was like someone was watching her…

When she looked round over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of a tall, black-haired man amongst a small crowd of early risers heading to work. Her heart started racing in fear, thinking it was Loki, she quickly moved on and walked as fast as she could. When she glanced back in the direction of the man, there was no sign of him anymore.

She tried to shake it off, thinking it had just been her imagination. Surely if it had been Loki, he would’ve made his presence more known.

But as she made her way further into the centre of the city, she still had a really bad feeling that she was being followed. So she rushed into the bus station and bought a ticket to head further North, maybe if she headed out of the cities and tried the quieter villages, she might be able to stay under the radar better.

Just before she was able to pay for her ticket, there was sudden screaming and panic within the station.

‘What the…’ She looked around in confusion, but then she felt pure dread run through her veins as she saw the reason for the panic and chaos.

Loki.

He had stormed into the station in his regal armour, the biggest grin formed on his face when he locked eyes on Kelly.

‘No…’ She gasped out quietly, her legs suddenly turned to jelly as she tried to run with the others that were panicking.

Loki made his way towards Kelly straight away, with large purposeful strides as he towered above everyone else that was scarpering around him in terror.

She started running for the back exit, but Loki reached out towards her and Kelly suddenly felt as if there was a collar around her neck that was suddenly pulling her backwards towards him. She brought her hands up to her neck but couldn’t feel anything there, but there was definitely something pulling her back.

She panicked and screamed as she was dragged back towards Loki, who had stopped and was just pulling her towards him. When she was within grabbing distance, the invisible collar disappeared and she felt like she could run again.

But she was within striking distance. And Loki struck like a snake, grabbing her he forced her to the nearest wall and pinned her against it, his large dominant hand wrapped around her neck firmly. Her lower lip was trembling in fear as he sneered down at her, she tried clawing at his arm but it was futile.

‘Mmmm, I finally found you.’ Loki hummed low and squeezed her neck a bit harder in warning when she continued trying to struggle.

‘Plea… please… Let me go.’ She stuttered out between trying to take big breaths, his hand controlling her breathing wasn’t making it easy to talk.

‘Oh no, my little pet. You should be begging for my forgiveness, for that little stunt of running away from me. You have no idea how much of an inconvenience it was when I came to collect you, to find you gone. Ungrateful mortal.’ He growled, squeezing her neck again for a few seconds, making her splutter.

He could see the pure fear in her eyes.

‘However.’ He purred, easing up a little on his grip he rubbed his thumb up and down the side of her neck. ‘I wouldn’t be in the position I am now if it hadn’t been for you. And whilst I should punish you for being a naughty girl and disobeying me, I will give you the benefit of the doubt. This time. Because I know you’re my good girl really, aren’t you?’

Kelly closed her eyes and tried to tune him out. But of course, that could never happen.

‘Look at me!’ He demanded and squeezed her neck again, making her eyes fly open.

‘Maybe once I get you home, you’ll be more talkative. And I shall give you your reward, and finally claim what you owe me.’ His eyes darkened and he smirked, then leaned in and kissed her on the lips, despite her trying to move her head away to no avail.

She had no choice but to endure his lips moving against hers, he was surprisingly gentle, yet there was an urgency within him too. A very deep part of her was longing at his kiss, like it was a reminder of what she thought they once had… But she remembered that had all been fake, Loki had used her.

Loki pulled back slightly, licking his lips. ‘Now come, pet. Let me show you your new home.’ He grinned wickedly and released her neck.

But before she could even think about trying to run, a collar formed around her neck. Only this time it wasn’t invisible, she could feel it too with her hands as she tried pulling it off. There was a chain leash attached to it that Loki held, so she was going nowhere.

‘Come on.’ Loki growled and tugged her along as he headed out the main entrance.

When they stepped outside, some civilians that saw Loki started kneeling for him instantly. Some ran away. But Loki didn’t care about any of them, he had what he wanted.

Kelly couldn’t stop shaking and crying as Loki slipped his arm around her waist and held her in close, then teleported them both to the airport where Loki had a jet waiting for them. He hauled Kelly onto it, she wasn’t sure why she was even trying to still get away, she knew there was no chance.

Loki had the leash vanish, but the collar remained. As soon as it was off, she ran as far back in the jet as possible and cowered down in the corner. Loki chuckled and took a seat near the front, looking very pleased with himself.

‘There is a much comfier seat down here for you, pet. It might be a bumpy ride.’ Loki called back to her as the jet started off down the runway.

But Kelly was quite happy where she was, as far away from Loki as she possibly could be between some seats. Though she knew it wouldn’t be for long, the jet was already taking off into the sky. She didn’t know exactly where home was for Loki. She really didn’t want to know.

‘You know, it has been ok since I’ve been ruling your world. Not quite as fun and exciting as I had originally hoped, but I realised it’s been because I’ve been chasing you. Now that I’ve found you, the real fun can begin.’ Loki said casually as he opened a bag of salted nuts.

Kelly shivered at his tone and words, she didn’t want to know what he meant by that.

It only took half an hour to get to their destination. But it had felt more like ten hours for Kelly, with Loki trying to make small talk the whole way there, as if nothing was wrong. As if she was there of her own accord.

‘Isn’t this a delightful sight.’ Loki chuckled, looking out of the window.

Kelly was curious as to where she was. So she slowly moved onto her knees and leaned up on one of the seats to look out the window. Her eyes widened at what she saw.

They were coming to land in New York, but it wasn’t the New York she remembered.

For starters, where The Statue Of Liberty should be, was replaced with a ten times larger statue of Loki himself. Then as they headed into the city, where the Avengers tower used to be, a new tower was built. But it was much larger too, and on the side of it was Loki’s name in bright gold letters.

‘No… No.’ She sobbed and put her hand over her mouth in horror.

#Loki #tom hiddleston #tear you to pieces #fan fiction #dark Loki #Loki fic #Loki x OFC #Loki x original female character

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galactic-magick · 3 years

Text

As Long As I’m With You: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hi, can you please do where Agnes (a villain) saves fem reader's life because she has feelings for her? In the end they end up together // also took some ideas from this request

Summary: You’re accused of witchcraft in your village, and a mysterious beautiful witch comes to your aid.

Words: 2200+

Warnings: fem reader, Agatha is low key evil so she hurts some people, a swear word, reader has an angsty past

Author’s Notes: This can be read as either a standalone fic or as a prequel to my other fic “Spell Practice.” I took quite a lot of creative liberty with this, hopefully that’s alright. Also disclaimer I am in no way a history expert so even though this is set in like the 1500s-1600s it’s probably very inaccurate, but it’s fanfic so anything goes right?

Taglist: @nyx-aira @midnight-lestrange @thestrangeundoing @thegayances @sleep-deprived-athlete @dr-robotnik-said-hella @fallingfor-fics @p-nymph @thelanawinterrs @sunproud (if your tag didn’t work it might be bc your blog isn’t searchable so make sure that’s on so you’re notified of future fics!)

You had no idea how much your life would change when you left your house that day.

It started out with a simple run to the market and the garden to get what you needed for supper that night, a job that almost always falls to you. You don’t necessarily mind getting away from your family and talking to some people in town, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t want you in the house as much as possible either.

It’s gotten to the point where they’re just looking for a reason to get rid of you. You’re a disappointment, after all. You refuse to marry in order to help your family’s status, even though you’ve gotten a couple offers. You counter your parent’s rules and ideas every chance you get, no matter how much they tell you you’re crazy. They belittle you constantly, saying your dreams are worth nothing and you’ll have to be dependent on them forever if you never submit to the role in society you’re supposed to.

Obviously bullying you out of their lives wasn’t working, so they’ve moved on to spreading rumors about you and setting you up for crimes. None have worked yet, of course, but every day you fear they’ll get too close.

Until you get burned at the stake, though, they’ve given you basically every responsibility of the house. You do all the shopping, cooking, and farming, as well as taking care of your younger siblings. You wonder what they’d do without you, despite how much they seem to want you gone.

As you’re buying a few crops and eggs from your neighbors, you swear you see something move. You turn around and see a little boy floating in the air, screaming.

You drop everything in your arms and reach up to him, trying to grab him and help him down, but he keeps flailing, and his screams start to feel directed at you.

“Hey! It’s okay! Let me help you!” you hold your hand up, speaking as calmly as you can. “I’m not going to hurt you,”

“WITCH!” a man yells as he sees you. “SHE’S A WITCH!”

Everyone around turns and watches you.

“No! No! I’m not the one doing this! I’m trying to help!”

“Let him down and maybe we’ll wait to kill you til tomorrow!” someone else demands.

A couple people march towards you to grab you, and all you can think to do is start running.

You race out of the center of town into the trees, and about five men chase after you. You keep going until it feels like your legs are going to give out and you can barely breathe, but they keep coming.

“Please! Please stop! It wasn’t me I swear!” you cry. “I don’t know what was happening!”

“Shut up, girl,” one grunts. “Your father always said there was something wrong with you, makes sense that you’re a witch!”

“What’s so wrong about witches?” a female voice calls.

You and the men spin around, trying to figure out where it came from.

Before you can blink there’s purple smoke surrounding you, and the men are thrown against the trees. They’re knocked unconscious instantly, but you remain standing and untouched.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” the smoke starts to fade and you can make out her silhouette, then eventually her face. “I’m here to help you,”

She’s beautiful. You’ve never seen someone that immediately feels so friendly, so different in all the best ways.

“It’s alright to stare, I know I’m quite a sight,” she laughs. “I’m Agatha,”

“I’m Y/N,”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of you,” she smiles. “Everyone in the village can barely stand you,”

“Thanks…?” you’re not sure how to respond, especially after all that just happened. “Wait, if you live in my village, why have I never seen you? And how come you’ve never gotten caught using magic?”

“Memory spells, of course,” she shrugs. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?”

You nod, and she wraps an arm around you. She takes you deep into the forest until you reach a small house, the glimmer of the fire peering through the windows.

You settle down on a chair while she makes some tea and food. She offers you a blanket and hands you the cup and plate, sitting down across from you.

“So how long have you been practicing magic?” she asks.

“Oh…I…well actually I don’t know how to use any magic,”

“Really? Why were the witch hunters after you then?”

“I was set up, I think,” you say. “There was a little boy floating in the air, and since I was near him they thought it was me. But I wasn’t doing anything,”

“Well,” Agatha sips her tea. “Sometimes magic can manifest itself subconsciously. Maybe you were doing it but didn’t realize it. It’s quite common,”

“But…how would I have magical powers? I’ve never learned it from anywhere,”

“Some people are just born with the gift,” she grins.

You exhale, thinking over what she said. Could it be true? You’ve been a witch all your life without even knowing it?

That night, Agatha conjures another bed for you to sleep in. But even though she made it as comfortable as she possibly could, you can’t get a wink of sleep.

You lift off the blanket and wrap it tightly around you, getting up slowly and quietly. You walk outside and sit against a tree, looking up at the stars.

You’re sure your family has heard the news by now. Their disappointment of a daughter is finally gone, accused of witchcraft. It seems that the foreseeable future will be spent with Agatha, the only safe person you have.

You wonder just how much she already knows about you. She mentioned she’s heard people gossiping about you all the time in town, yet she still saved you after hearing all those negative things.

Why is that?

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at her voice, and she chuckles a bit at your reaction.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just have a lot to think about from today, I guess,”

“No worries,” she sits down beside you. “So do I,”

“Agatha,” you say. “Why did you save me?”

“Us witches have to stick together. I saw you were in trouble, so I saved you,”

“But you knew, didn’t you? You’ve known I was a witch long before this, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” she agrees. “Whenever I heard people talk about you, I figured you weren’t like everyone else. But I didn’t know for sure until today,”

“I wish you had taken me before,” you huff, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s been so bad, Agatha, feeling worthless just because you’re different, everyone hates you…”

She pulls you into her shoulder, letting you cry into it, “I know, dear, I know,”

It takes you a while to come to terms with your potential powers, but as soon as you’re ready Agatha begins to teach you how to use them. You spend your days studying her spell books and practicing simple spells, most of which you fail at.

She encourages you as much as possible, explaining to you that magic is not something you can learn overnight, sometimes not even over years. She tells you that she’s actually thousands of years old (a surprise to you due to her stunning looks) and she’s been practicing for much of that time, and there’s still some spells she hasn’t mastered.

Your impatience still gets the better of you most days, though. You can’t imagine waiting several centuries to get something to work, if you get it to work at all.

One day you’re sitting at the table, trying out a simple transfiguration spell. You wave your hand repeatedly at a potato, hoping to turn it into an apple. It doesn’t even wobble, not even a single spark, but you’ve been sitting here for hours and don’t want to give up just yet.

You nearly fall asleep from exhaustion when all of a sudden it happens. It works.

There’s an apple in front of you. Not a potato, an apple.

“Holy shit!” you scream. “Agatha! I did it!”

You run over to her and point at your small accomplishment.

“Look at you go, darling!” she smiles, hugging you. “At this rate you’ll be changing rocks into cats before you’re 200!”

You laugh, “Oh come on, this is literally just one of the beginner spells,”

“So what? That’s where everybody starts,”

You break out in giddy excitement again, jumping up and down a bit and looking back and forth just to make sure your creation is still there.

Without thinking, you kiss Agatha quickly on the lips.

She stares at you, mouth open.

Before you can apologize, she grabs your face and kisses you hard. She’s everything you’d imagined and more, soft and warm but with a spark you can’t ignore.

When you finally break apart, her hands linger, brushing across your features and in your hair, “I’ve been waiting to do that,”

Things change after that, but in only the best ways.

Agatha isn’t just your mentor anymore, the only friend who came to your aid.

She’s your everything now, a soulmate, your home.

You tell her all about your life, and she tells you all about hers. As she has significantly more stories to tell, you’ll fall asleep many nights to her whispering all the legends she lived through that no one else knows are true.

She makes you laugh every day, and makes sure you always know how much she cares about you. There’s only so much you can do in your hidden home in the woods, but with magic the possibilities are endless and she’s never short of romantic ideas.

Tonight you find yourself lying your head in her lap while she plays with your hair, close to the fire so you can watch the little shows she creates with the flames.

“What about love?” you ask.

“What about it?”

“Out of all the stories you’ve told me, you’ve never mentioned being in love before,”

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s because I haven’t been,”

“Why not?”

“It’s just never appealed to me,” she says. “Until I met you,”

“Oh,” you grin, looking up at her.

She leans down to kiss you, but you’re broken apart by a loud noise outside.

You shoot up, looking at Agatha in pure panic. Your heart races as the noise gets louder and louder, eventually leading to shouting and knocks at the door.

“WE FOUND YOU!” a booming voice yells.

“Aggie?” you whisper. Everything crumbles around you. Your perfect, happy life, now about to be stolen from you. You have no idea how they found you, if you are about to be dead, if you’ll be able to defend yourself at all.

She kisses you and stands up, “Stay here. I’ll take care of it,”

With a fling of her fingers the door flies open, and the torches the townspeople are holding are burnt out. She smirks, purple smoke covering the area as she goes through them one by one, some just throwing to the side and others suffering a painful death.

She turns their own weapons against them, their own people against them, and makes them regret everything they’ve ever done.

When she returns to you, you’re still in so much shock and panic you couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing.

“Did you…kill all of them?”

“They got what they deserved for threatening us,” she says nonchalantly. “But we’re not safe here anymore. It’s time to find somewhere new,”

“Okay,” you nod as she pulls you against her. “As long as I’m with you,”

“I’ll always protect you, even when you learn enough to protect yourself,” she kisses your forehead. “Always and forever,”

APPROXIMATELY FOUR CENTURIES LATER

“I’m back, darling!” Agatha calls, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” you run to her, grabbing her hands.

“Splendid, that poor Wanda already loves her new neighbor!”

“Wow,” you giggle. “You know I must say, this whole living in a sitcom thing isn’t that bad, you look gorgeous in that 50s dress,”

“Oh darling, somehow after all this time you still flatter me,” she pretends to fan herself. “I have to go back over real quick, alright? Gotta give her this spicy magazine,” she holds her hand up in the air and magically forms one in her grasp.

“Ah! Be sure to get some ideas to use on me when you get back,” she laugh.

“Oh I will honey,” she winks, kissing you before going out the door.

You settle on the couch, looking around at your home. Out of all the places you’ve moved to together, this was by far the weirdest. There’s no color, and everyone besides you and Agatha and Wanda are under some kind of mind control.

You never imagined that day all those years ago would bring you here, spending your life with a beautiful witch and being her partner in all things, even sinister ones. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know this strange town will only bring you more opportunities to practice your magic and help Agatha with her plans.

#agatha harkness #wandavision #agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #wandavision spoilers #wandavision x reader

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kanjukucompany · 2 years

Text

【A3! Translation】 Sumeragi Tenma SSR: Exciting Theme Park (3/3)

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

sorry about the wait...! thank you for 100 followers!

(translation under the cut)

*italicized lines are in english

Kumon: Ah! That’s the Statue of Liberty!

Kazunari: I didn’t know the film site was gonna be at Battery Park! Is this destiny or what!?

Tenma: --.

Izumi: It looks like Tenma-kun is immediately getting lectured on his movements.

Muku: In Sparkle Sunshine’s costume, he looks just like the real thing!

Misumi: Exactly like the figure I saw at the store~!

Kumon: He looks like he jumped straight out of an American comic book!

Yuki: Yeah but the hack is an actor, and the director and staff are telling him stuff. Can he even understand them?

Izumi: He might not understand English itself, but he can still understand the meaning somehow… maybe.

Tenma: --Sigh.

Kazunari: Tenten, nice job with that briefing-piko!

Izumi: It seems like you’ve got a little time before filming starts, would you like something to eat?

Muku: I’ve also got drinks here.

Tenma: No, I’m good….They’re calling me over there.

Misumi: Tenma left~.

Kumon: Will his lines really be okay…?

Yuki: From what I got just now, he didn’t understand what they were saying at all.

Izumi: (Yeah, his acting shouldn’t be a problem but… I’m a little worried about his lines.)

Harold: Now, let’s begin filming. 3, 2, 1-- Action!

Tenma: "...Hmph. That guy can do it, I believe in him."

Kazunari: Eh…!

Muku: Amazing! Tenma-kun’s English is so smooth!

Izumi: Seriously…! The conversation feels natural, I’m speechless…!

Harold: Cut!

Harold: That was perfect! Your acting is absolutely incredible, Tenma! I knew it was a good idea to ask you!

Kazunari: Tenten, that was wild! Seriously too cool!

Muku: That was so cool, Tenma-kun!

Yuki: Even though it’s the hack… he did it.

Misumi: Wow, Tenma~!

Kumon: I was super shocked! It was like you could speak English fluently!

Tenma: I told you it would be fine. Who do you think I am?

CHOICE 1: As expected.

Izumi: As expected. Your acting was so good, I was drawn in immediately!

Tenma: Hmph, obviously.

Izumi: It’s a shame that you had to mostly hide your face because of your management.

Tenma: This time was just a replacement role. But, someday, the name Sumeragi Tenma is going to be known around the world, and I’ll be playing the main character in foreign films.

Tenma: When that time comes, I’ll give you a performance that’ll win your heart. Look forward to it.

Izumi: ….!

Izumi: Okay! I’ll be waiting.

CHOICE 2: I guess you are used to doing movies.

Izumi: I guess Tenma-kun is used to doing movies, after all.

Tenma: Of course.

Tenma: But, I’ve rarely ever starred in foreign films.

Tenma: This time, I was asked by Director Harold to take this role… Honestly that makes me pretty happy.

Izumi: That means that not only in Japan, but overseas as well, there’s people who acknowledge Tenma-kun’s acting skill.

Tenma: This time was just a replacement role, and might’ve only been a small step--...

Tenma: But one day, I’m going to become an actor that’s known all around the world. Once again, I believe I will.

Izumi: Yeah, Tenma-kun can do it.

Tenma: Right. So Director, keep an eye on me, okay?

Tenma: Harold sent me a preview of the movie we shot the other day.

Tenma: Apparently my scene is in it.

Izumi: Woah, really? Let’s watch it right away.

Sunny Sparkle: "...Hmph. That guy can do it, I believe in him."

Citron: Oh!? Tenma, your English was perfect!

Guy: Agreed. As you would think, it’s difficult to rival the other actors, but you can be understood properly. Above all, your acting is very good.

Hisoka: Yeah. It’s feels really natural, great job.

Tenma: Hmph, well of course.

Izumi: By the way, how did you get that good at speaking in such a short amount of time?

Tenma: Back then, I asked one of the staff members to record themselves saying the lines. I listened to it over and over until filming started.

Tenma: I looked up the meaning of the lines on my own and acted accordingly.

Izumi: I see… so that’s how.

Tsumugi: Tenma-kun, your reading ability has improved a lot.

Izumi: To be able to not only interpret lines in a foreign language, but pronounce them too… As expected of Tenma-kun.

Citron: He’s got an actor’s deception!*

Guy: A scholarly yellowtail?*

Izumi: You’re both wrong, but do you mean an actor’s spirit?

Citron: Yes, that’s it!

Guy: I see.

Tenma: Well, now that I’ve improved my English skills, I can accept any overseas offers no problem.

Chikage: Heh, well then I’m sure your next English test will get a perfect score.

Tenma: C-Chikage-san!? I didn’t know you were back!

Chikage: I just got back.

Tenma: N-No… what you said just now is a little too far. Let’s aim for 80% first--.

Chikage: A perfect score, huh? Aren’t you looking forward to it, Tsumugi?

Tsumugi: Ahaha, that’s right.

Tenma: Perfect!? W-Wait just a second--!

*citron says 騙し／だまし (deceive) instead of 魂／だましい (spirit)

*guy mishears 役者／やくしゃ (actor) as 学者／がくしゃ (scholar) and 騙し／だまし (decieve) as はまち (japanese amberjack aka yellowtail fish)

#a3 #a3 game #a3 translation #tenma sumeragi #yuki rurikawa #muku sakisaka #misumi ikaruga #kazunari miyoshi #kumon hyodo #summer troupe #izumi tachibana #guy a3 #guy nishiki #citron a3 #hisoka mikage #tsumugi tsukioka #chikage utsuki #my translations

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thevictorianghost · 3 years

Note

If you could rewrite legend of korra and make it your own(or just in general better) how would you do it? The villains would stay the same and korra and crew are the same(personalities you can definitely tweak a bit. I would definitely not have any love triangles and make korra and asami happen in the beginning) how would you do it with your ships being canon as well?

Okay so I’ve never actually watched LOK. I’ve heard A LOT about it through watching countless video essays on Youtube and reading Tumblr posts about it. I know the who, the what and the how, I just haven’t wanted to watch it because, even though it looks cinematically gorgeous, the story was written by Bry/ke and there’s a LOT of it, worldbuilding and storywise, that I just can’t bare to watch.

So here goes. This got long. Enjoy!

1) Remove the Decopunk world.

A Decopunk world is a world where technology is 1920s-ish, but very advanced. We have cars, tanks, radio, bobs and faux bobs, cloche hats, short skirts, nice suits, etc. I adore Decopunk. The 1920s are one of my favourite eras. An optimistic way of looking at the world, partying, illegal alcohol, the remnants of the Great War... I love it. I really do. But it doesn’t work in the pre-established world of Avatar. It brings elements that are far too imperialistic and colonial in nature (which prompted the comics to be imperialistic and colonial in nature, with the Northern and Southern Water Tribe, you can find many posts about that), which came along hand in hand with the Industrial Revolution, as this article puts it so well. Please read it, it’s awesome.

Why did they feel they had to denature Avatar’s world? They already had everything they could possibly want.

The Fire Nation could be more Steampunk, which is a little less advanced than Decopunk (First Industrial Revolution vs Second Industrial Revolution) because there were elements of Steampunk in the Fire Nation Army (such as the tanks, the navy and the dirigibles). But it could be for them only. It could show us how Zuko transformed the Fire Nation from a war industry to a steam-powered country. This could be the new way to channel firebending (and please, no more “anyone can do lightning bending”, you don’t need lightning bending to get electricity and it makes Zuko, Iroh, Ozai and Azula weak in the show!).

We’ve seen waterbending used in clever ways in the Northern Water Tribe. How could Katara’s waterbending and Sokka’s engineering influence the Southern Water Tribe to make them use waterbending more? Canals, waterfalls, waterways, etc.? In new and different ways? Could the Southern Water Tribe use hydroelectricity, but in a clean, sustainable way? Why does the Southern Water Tribe port look so... mundane?

The Earth Kingdom already had a working train system in Ba Sing Se. And the postal system in Omashu. Toph could have taught earthbenders how to follow the Badgermoles way and dug tunnels throughout a nation in peace. Then boom. Subways. But instead of machines pushing the people along, you can have benders do it. Instead of messenger hawks, the postal system could run through the entire kingdom instead of just Omashu and be much more efficient. The Earth Kingdom could be praised for its fast postal system that could, maybe, work as telegrams.

I’ll come back to the Air Nomads.

Those are just examples from the top of my head. I don’t mean “never allow technology to “””progress””” (I use that word veeeeery loosely because it has huge imperialistic undertones). I mean instead of trashing the fun parts of bending to make way for Decopunk technology that doesn’t need bending, work with it! Get creative! This worldbuilding feels... too easy. When Avatar: The Last Airbender was praised for its worldbuilding.

I adore Decopunk. I enjoy it far more than Dieselpunk and it’s much less known that Steampunk. But it has no place in the Avatar world.

2) That doesn’t mean “remove Republic City”.

First of all, it should honestly have a better name. It’s kind of like naming a city “Democracy City”. Which is way too on the nose. Harmony City sounds better, and that’s the first thing that came to mind. Anyway.

I really like the idea of a city being built in the spirit of Iroh and the White Lotus. To allow the Four Nations to live together in harmony in one city. But why is Republic City literally New York City with an “““Asian””” flair? What is up with that? I know New York is the MOST Decopunk city ever (you can’t encounter anything Decopunk without seeing New York, with its Art Deco buildings, the Harlem Renaissance, the Prohibition, etc.). But they do NOTHING with it! They just take New York, change some names, add some Asian flair, and call it a day.

I don’t want 1920s New York for Republic City. I want Zootopia.

What happens in a city where all the Four Nations are represented? How does Water, Earth, Fire and Air work together? Big cities tend to be quartered in neighborhoods, so each neighborhood could be a smaller version of their nation. We could have a Northern Water Tribe next to an Earth Kingdom next to... you know what I mean? Each neighborhood could be a small-scale introduction to the nation for Korra first, then you can send her to that nation afterwards!

Which leads us to this.

3) Have Korra follow a traditional Avatar’s journey.

I really don’t know why they decided that Korra would learn three elements before the age of sixteen (when that’s the age Avatars usually START their journeys) and then only have her learn Airbending during the entire show. Wasn’t the structure of each Book being about Aang learning one element at a time a good structure? Why go out of their way to NOT do that? Why was it the White Lotus’ prerogative to train the Avatar in the first place, too?

So let’s have Korra know waterbending first (and show Katara teaching her, please!), then she can learn Earth, Fire and Air. By going to the Earth Kingdom, to the Fire Nation, and to the Air Temples. This could help develop each nation and show us how they have grown through the years. And it could lead Korra and the audience to figure out that there’s not only Aang who has had children to represent the Air Nomads, but there were other Air Nomads who survived the genocide and we can actually see the Air Nomads as a thriving culture.

So about Republic City. As I said, we could keep it. But now that Korra is going on a traditional Avatar journey, you could have, say, one episode at the beginning and one episode at the end of each season taking place in Republic City. To show us how each Nation’s neighborhood works and as an introduction to Korra before she actually takes the plunge to travel to that nation.

Please! Build upon the Avatar world at large more! Come on!

4) Stop it with the love triangles.

Many have talked about the Mako, Korra, Bolin and Asami love triangles. I’ve read once that they don’t exactly feel like friends, they’re only colleagues who share the fact they all dated Korra at one point. Which is sad. Knowing that the Gaang is so beloved because they’re such GOOD FRIENDS first!

So work to build strong, healthy friendships first, THEN start thinking about romance if you have to. And please, if you want a ship to be endgame, don’t have it so you have to confirm it on Twitter.

Don’t.

Oh! And also. Bolin and Eska’s relationship was unhealthy as all hell and treated as “funny” and “comic relief” because a woman was being emotionally abusive to a man. That’s terrible. Please don’t do that.

5) Don’t let Katara fall to the side like she did.

Many, MANY before me have talked about how Katara got the short end of the stick in LOK. Where’s her statue? Where’s her recognition as the Greatest Waterbender in the World? Why is she day in and day out in the healing hut, when she said “I don’t want to heal, I want to FIGHT”? Does she even have a waterbending school? Or is that completely fanon? Why does she allow Aang to take one of their children on life-changing field trips while leaving their other kids behind? Aren’t they also Air Nomads by birth??

It’s okay to worship the old Gaang because, well, we all love them! I do love Aang, even if I give him a hard time a lot, but I love the character. I just don’t like the way Book 3 Aang was written. But some characters shouldn’t have everything while others have nothing. Aang is LITERALLY THE STATUE OF LIBERTY. But where was Katara’s statue? And also, what happened to Suki?? What happened to Mai or Ty Lee, too?? Or even Sokka?? He died some time ago and... that’s it??

Which brings us to this.

6) Zutara, Taang, Sukka and Mailee.

I’ve seen that picture of Toph, Aang, Sokka and Katara being edited with Zuko and Katara next to each other, Toph and Aang next to each other, and a (suddenly alive!) Suki next to Sokka. I think that’s so good! It feels so healthy!

Not all relationships that started when people were kids work out. Sokka and Suki seem the strongest relationship at the end of the show and they’re probably the only ones I could see working out in the end. Sokka could become the Southern Water Tribe Chief and Suki could become his Queen when she’s retired from the Kyoshi Warriors.

Katara and Aang would be lifelong friends, of course they would be, but I don’t really see them lasting. Aang was twelve when they started dating. They’d date a few years, then they’d decide they want other things. That’s a good thing to show kids!

I’ve written many metas about Zutara, but Ambassador then Fire Lady Katara would show a changing world, where the Fire Nation, now no longer a war industry but a Steampunk country, is moving forward, with Zuko literally marrying a woman the Fire Nation tried to wipe out. They would be equals and leave an equal mark upon the world. Together.

Toph and Aang would be amazing together. They’d be a great team, working in the Earth Kindom, helping rebuild the old Temples when the Air Nomads came out of hiding, and bringing peace around the world. I don’t think they’d be a conventional relationship. They’d do their own thing for a while, find each other for a while, work together on some projects, then continue doing their own thing. Aang being the Avatar who travels the world and Toph teaching metalbenders and working with the King in Ba Sing Se and Bumi in Omashu and wherever she’s needed. I think Toph would be much more fulfilled than what we’ve seen of elderly Katara. She doesn’t have Katara’s abandonment issues (I’ve talked about them here) and she’s more independent, I believe.

I know I haven’t talked about them much yet, but I want Mai and Ty Lee together in the end. Badass ladies challenging their respective stereotypes and create a new world for themselves. Mai could find herself away from the Fire Nation court (I don’t know what she’d do, but circuses love people who throw knives, don’t they? She could be a circus performer for a while), and I think Ty Lee, in this version, could work at the circus and with Aang to rebuild the Air Nomads. I love the idea of Ty Lee being a descendant of the Air Nomads.

All of them should be shown creating Zootopia-like Republic City. Because of course they should be! They’re the Gaang!

So yeah, that’s how I would see the world of Avatar grow beyond the borders of the original show! :)

#atla #avatar the last airbender #anti-lok #anti-bryke #zutara #sukka #taang #mailee #darkcrowprincess

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lucycola · 3 years

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Hey could you do a Spock X reader where she knows nothing about Vulcans and like keeps accidentally doing taboo things e.g touching hands or touching his ears

I thoroughly enjoyed writing this! I accidentally made it gender neutral, because I forgot what pronouns, you used. I’m sorry! I hope you like it.

WARNINGS: Fluff, affection, ignorance of affection in Vulcan culture idk. Maybe Spock is slightly OOC but who cares. I took a little liberty of giving the reader a pinch of background.

To say you were oblivious was an understatement. You weren’t a complete idiot, or anything, just innocently scatterbrained. Perhaps that was the explanation why you didn’t flinch when every you were chastised for a mistake or given a strict order by your commanding officer. As a blue shirt, you fell under the command of the Enterprise’s first officer, and his reputation as a stony, unfeeling, authoritarian preceded him. You were never bothered by this. He was most terrifying, others noted, when Captain Kirk left him in charge when unable to take the chair. You were warned about him-to never cross him and always do exactly as he said. Spock was a hard-ass. He was handsome and perhaps at first you wondered, but it had been made clear to by others he wasn’t interested in anyone.

You had met more terrifying people. You had nine brothers and a strict, often unfair and bully of a father. Commander Spock was a piece of cake. It was in your nature to be gentle, welcoming, and comforting despite the constitution of your upbringing. It was your personality. You didn’t like to let people bring you down.

You were elated alone to be living your dream, anyway. You weren’t going to let the attitude of anyone around you affect your nature or happiness.

You obviously didn’t know anything about Vulcans either.

The first touch was accidental. It always is.

You never took the Vulcan to be clumsy, but on one occasion while discussing your current assignment in passing he dropped his holotape. You both reached for it, and in a cliché manner brushed hands. While your boss pulled away, you did not and picked up the tape.

“Here ya go!” You cheerily patted the tape in his hand for good measure, “I’ll have that report in the morning like you’ve requested, sir.”

Bypassers gawked as you cheerily skipped away. Your commanding officer only quirked a brow and went on his way.

The next time was less on purpose and more out of your kindness as your commander internally lamented about his captain’s safety during an emergency situation. He had donned the chair and even while appearing composed and direct you had an eye for spotting worry in well kept men. In an brief moment you pressed your hand to his wrist and said softly, “He will be okay. You’ll make sure of it.”

He tensed under your touch and you removed your hand a smiled.

“Report to your station, Ensign,” he said in his usual tone, no hint of distaste or approval in his voice.

“Yes sir.”

The third time was even worse. Somehow you had been suckered to prompting Spock by Doctor McCoy into reporting to an impromptu physical. Confidentiality be damned, the Vulcan’s stress levels were unusually high and it was affecting his demeanor. You accidentally overheard the nurse and the doctor whispering something perhaps about pon farr happening again, but no it hadn’t been seven years yet. Whatever that was.

“I don’t think he’ll listen to me, but if you say it’s important, I’ll try.”

“You’re his favorite, so you’re my best bet.”

“Mister Spock doesn’t have favorites,” you laughed, “But I’ll do it anyway. Someone has to draw the shortest straw. I never mind it being me.”

“Thankyou, Ensign. And good luck.”

You skipped along to the your commander’s quarters. You had never been inside and only rarely had delivered your reports to him in person when requested. He couldn’t always come to you and that was understandable.

At the chime the door slid open and though it was subtle, your boss clearly wasn’t expecting you.

“Hello, Mister Spock,” you greeted, “Doctor McCoy-”

“I am aware of the doctor’s request. As it is not mandatory I do not find it necessary to attend.”

It wasn’t like him to interrupt you. He was tense and though he stood perfectly erect like a statue there was a little shake in his right hand. Without thinking, you grasped it to still the quiver.

“Are you alright?”

Many would expect his to snatch it away, but he didn’t and stood there. If he was caught off guard, it wasn’t apparent. His expression was unmoving and his eye contact never wavered.

“I am fine, Ensign. Report back to your duties.”

“Doctor McCoy said it was important.”

“I am not here to entertain the doctor’s every illogical human whim.” He pulled his hand away, “There is no empirical evidence to suggest I am ill.”

“You’re shivering.” You put your hands on your hip and gave him the most mothering look you could muster.

“Multiple factors such as the natural low temperature of deep space can illicit such a reaction,” he retorted.

“It’s broiling in your cabin, Mister Spock. Only people with fevers do things like that.”

“Humans, Ensign. Humans,” he corrected, “I deduce you are not aware of Vulcan biology or customs.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” you requested softly, “How am I supposed to work efficiently under an ill commanding officer?”

The way you spoke nearly convinced him to do your bidding, but still he remained stubborn.

“I do not comprehend how that would deter your work efficiency.”

You grabbed his hand again, “I am going to worry myself to death if you really are ill and you’re just trying to act like you’re alright. That will keep me from working like I’m supposed to. Efficient crew needs an efficient captain.” You winked at him.

“But Captain Kirk-”

“It’s a metaphor, Mister Spock. Now please come so the doctor can stop paging me and I can work on my report concerning the Althenian plant’s healing properties and various uses from its sap.”

“I yield,” he said after a small beat and without releasing your hand, followed you to the medbay. More people inwardly gawked watching to drag him down the hall. His face was tense, albeit slightly amused.

After reaching your destination you waved him and the doctor off sweetly and made your way back to the lab. You heart wrapped around the thought of him being ill and you hid that worry ill. A little heat bloomed in your chest at his previous touch. You brushed it away. No, you told yourself.

The doctor was only a little surprised. His suspicions were confirmed.

“I had my doubts at first, Spock, but now I see it’s true.”

“Despite Vulcan’s telepathic abilities, I cannot automatically read your mind. Elaborate, Doctor.”

The doctor chucked, “That ensign is your favorite.”

“I do not understand.”

“Who else could have convinced you to come here to let me scan you? Probably not even Jim-”

“I am inclined to follow the captain’s every order.”

“You don’t let anyone touch you like that. Especially not for a long time. If I’m not mistaken you two were practically kiss-”

“That will be enough elaboration, doctor. Please proceed with your medical assessment, as I have much work to attend to.”

The doctor chuckled again. “It’s too bad I can’t tell with that one. They act like that towards everyone.”

“Everyone,” Spock repeated flatly although it was intended to be a question.

“Sweetest soul I’ve ever met. Lights up a room as soon as they enter it.”

“Indeed,” Spock nodded, familiar with the colloquialism.

The doctor’s eyebrows raised and he grinned, “I knew it.”

You of course were oblivious to all of this as you continued through your work, happy as a clam.

After some deliberation one of your coworkers decided to explain the delicacies of Vulcan culture after viewing a friendly hand grasp as a greeting between you and your commanding officer. You were elated to see his shivering had stopped and once again he tensed under the touch, but nodded his head at your greeting. You had blushed while doing so. It was sweet, but your coworker had to break it to you as they had before when warning you last time about him not being interested in anyone.

“Vulcans don’t like to be touched, you know,” they said to you, taking you aside.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re very sensitive to skin to skin contact. They guard themselves mostly, but hand touching is extremely taboo the way kissing in public or other sexual acts are.”

“You mean...” you blushed, “I’ve been--! I hope he’s not offended.”

“Normally he’s not afraid to explain things or clear up-“ you coworker coughed,”-unwanted affection. I’ve seen plenty girls get a talking down to.”

“What are you saying?”

“Perhaps he’s forcing himself to be polite.”

“Oh, I’ve got to apologize right away!”

You felt so stupid! How could you be so offensive to him or his culture? You should have read up on his customs before truly interacting with him. It would seem like a smart thing to do-but you were so lost to the world it was embarrassing.

You paused in front of his door for the first time in your life, afraid to speak to him.

The door open quickly and you stepped back, surprised. He had looked like he had been going to leave and you sheepishly smiled, “I’m sorry for interrupting you, sir. I need to speak to you.”

“Come inside.”

You blushed at the request, wringing your hands as you entered.

You turned to him and blurted, “I had no idea what I was doing, sir, I swear. Had I known that touching you was wrong I would stop. I’m so used to being touchy-feely on Earth I forgot that not everyone-”

“Ensign,” he said firmly.

“Yes?” you squeaked.

“Had those interactions provoked me I would have made it known. I should be the one offering an apology. I should have explained what such interactions mean on Vulcan before anyone else claimed the opportunity. I assume someone took the liberty of doing so.”

“Yessir. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.”

“Why not?’

“Because your actions did not provoke me, but precisely did the opposite.”

“What-what do you mean?” Your face was fully red and you obscured it with your hands. He let out a sound that was the closest Vulcan thing as a sigh and stepped closed to you.

He grasped your hands and lowered them from your face. His eyes were soft and the most vulnerable as you had every seen them.

He pressed his right hand that was shivering terribly to the side of your face. It stilled instantly.

“I am aware of your affection for me and I return the sentiment.”

You couldn’t find your voice and after a long moment of studying your features he leaned down to give you a kiss, warm and firm.

You gasped into his lips and pressed back.

He released you and you looked at him starry eyed.

“So it was true, what the doctor said, you said in a hushed tone.

Spock’s arms were around you gently, “Elaborate.”

“I am your favorite.”

“Affirmative.”

FIN

#spock #spock x reader #spock x gender neutral #startrek #star trek #tos #ask #request #mister spock #mr spock #s'chn t'gai spock #doctor mccoy #bones #leonard mccoy

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moonyblackwerewolf · 3 years

Text

Betrothed Ch. 4 - Sirius Black

Betrothed Ch. 4

Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Sirius and Y/N meet at a family dinner and have some fun, later she finds out she is betrothed to some pureblood boy so Sirius comes up with a mental idea to save them both.

Warnings: Kissing, hints of sex, aggressive parents, underage drinking, idk my writing and English? lol

a/n: Oh my god this is so long! I hope you guys like it, i think there is only 2 chapters left, idk yet. Anyway Feedback is always welcome, thank you guys :)

Xxxx

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch. 2.5 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch. 5

When Y/n got home, she had time before going to the Malfoys, so she was planning on how to gently tell her parents she didn’t want to go and that she wasn’t going to accept their marriage proposal too. She spend days thinking and decided it was time, because her mom was already telling her to get prepared to go, so she sent a letter to Sirius as promised telling him she would talk to her parents on that day.

Later the family sat down in a living room and waited for Y/n to say what she wanted to.

“So? What do you want to tell us, your father and I are busy” her mother said impatiently, not knowing the bomb her daughter would throw at her.

Y/n took a deep breath and said “I don’t want to marry Malfoy, I’m not accepting his proposal.” As simple as that single phrase sounded like, it cost her so much more. Her parents were outraged to say the very least, how could she misbehave after all those year of being so obedient.

“What do you mean you won’t? Yes you will, the Malfoys are getting their answers next week” Her mother screamed.

To say her parent were furious was an understatement. She was disrespecting not only their choice of husband, but also their ancient family traditions. But in reality that’s exactly what she felt like, those traditions were ancient and full of nonsense, it is completely wrong to promise a girl to some narcissist, conservative, arrogant, aggressive prick and make her spend the rest of her life with him, loosing all of her liberty.

“Are you calling Lucius a prick? He is a member of one respectable family Y/n!” Her father grunted, grabbing his wand.

“Why? Because they’re pureblood?” Y/n yelled, since she was already fighting their principles she might as well do it right. “That’s nonsense why would a blood status change a person? It doesn't change anything, I know many muggle borns who are ten times better people than you are, you think you can judge everyone, just because you’re pure? Or rich? Or call yourself royal? Which is absurd by the way, you and I know there isn’t royalty in our world, you only say that because you want to be better than everyone else, so you lie and you’re powerful enough for people to believe you” she roared, it felt incredible to take some of her frustrations out of her chest for once in her life, she didn’t have to pretend to be a well behaved purist, like she was before.

Mr. Watson wouldn’t believe his daughter, he didn’t want to, so he kept blinding himself from the ugly truth that he was indeed wrong. “I won’t tolerate you disrespecting our tradition Y/n” with a wave from his hands Charles hit Y/n with the Cruciatus curse, taking her to the ground almost immediately.

“Dad! Stop- you’re hurting me, please! You’re hurting me” She cried and begged and squirmed, it felt agonising the pain touched each and every part of her body, the tears ran freely down her face, after being hit a certain amount of times she just felt numb to the pain, she stayed still wrapping her knees with all the strength she had left.

“You are going to marry Lucius Malfoy and you are going to accept his proposal in person when you go to his house, because you’re still going and I don’t want to hear a single complain or any of these ideas you cultivated in your mind, you are going to bring us respect” With no remorse her father left her there small, hugging her legs and crying alone, earning only a polite nod from her mother followed by a ‘I warned you’ look.

The rest of her time at home went by so slow she thought a whole month had passed, she was now feeling so bad being in her own house that she almost wanted to go to the Malfoys. Her parents weren’t even letting her see the mail, which meant she wasn’t receiving Sirius’ letters. Her sister wouldn’t talk with her anymore, scared of having the same fate as Y/n and her brother didn’t even know what was happening with his little sister.

The day she was going to the Malfoy manor had arrived. Her parents dropped her there in that shark tank like it meant nothing, they didn’t even bother saying good bye, she had come a long way from being the perfect daughter, who was always respectful with her parents and their ideals. Being at the Malfoys felt like being in Azkaban, but it was still better than being at home at least, there she was treated with extreme respect by Abraxas Malfoy and his wife, they were doing it out of interest of course but it was better than nothing, her only problem was Lucius, she hated him and hated even more that she’d need to sleep in his bed with him and even more that she’d have to accept his proposal by the end of the week. She felt stuck.

After having dinner Mrs. Malfoy showed you to Lucius’ room, while the house elf carried Y/n’s trunk next to the bed. The room was nice and big but it was cold and dark, she felt bad in there, fear creeping into her chest as her whole body felt numb, she just wished she could be in Sirius’ bed in the dormitories, she didn’t know why but there, by Sirius’ side was the most perfect place to be, she felt warm and safe.

“That’s it sweetheart, goodnight” after showing the room, with a final goodbye Mrs. Malfoy let her there alone, with Lucius. He was handsome, sharp jaw, strong upper body, beautiful face, she couldn’t deny it but it felt so wrong, it was sickening, she didn’t love him, she couldn’t, he was a terrible person.

“Look Y/n/n, I have to say, back in Hogwarts I was a bit jealous from you and Sirius, but now, being here with you, feels so right” he said as he was inching closer to her “Come on, let’s go to bed” his fingers were brushing her waist, the single phrase and action made her feel sick, his touch was ice cold, but what choice did she have. Y/n knew the punishment she’d have to face if she didn’t behave

“Ok” she replied, mouth dry “I’ll go change, in the bathroom”. She opened her trunk and looked for comfortable pyjamas, but to her surprise there were only vulgar sleeping clothes and lingeries, she felt a cold in her spine that made her sicker, her mother had it all planned out, crazy she thought, her mother is crazy. The last straw was when she saw a note from her mom.

Bought you some new clothes for you to share with Lucius.

Love,

Mom

She wondered what would It feel like to have a real caring mother, not one that just clearly wants her to have sex so she can have grandchildren. But she was born on a deranged family. She had no choice, so she just chose the pieces that were most discreet and even those weren't even a bit discreet, it was a black lace bra that at least covered her breasts perfectly and went a bit down and matching panties, if there was something she was sure of, it was that she didn’t want to see Lucius’ face when he saw her.

But again, she had no choice, when she entered the room again Lucius gaze fell directly on her chest. “My eyes are up here you know right?” She asked with a bored voice, while lying down in bed, much to her dismay.

“Feisty” he chuckled lying in bed besides her “I’ve always liked you Watson” Lucius was being a tease but she could see it in his eyes that he was drooling over her. She hated it. So she turned over and closed her eyes, wanting desperately to sleep for the whole time she’d be stuck there “Good night for you too, love” the nickname Sirius used to call her seemed so cold now, sounded fake coming form Lucius’ mouth. That night her thoughts kept going back to Sirius, she wondered if he was trying to talk to her, trying to reach her somehow but being unsuccessful thanks to her cruel parents. She missed him, his touch, his affections and she missed Lily, if she was here they’d talk the whole night and then maybe it wouldn’t fell so lonely, she missed reading with Remus, joking and pranking people with James and how protective he was and Peter’s cute but sarcastic comments, she missed her true family.

The next few days sucked, Y/n was running out of the less vulgar clothes, Lucius was always trying to kiss her and get close to her and the Malfoys’ forced kindness was beginning to annoy her, on top of that she didn’t feel like home in this house, she didn’t feel comfortable to do anything, basically she was counting the days until she could go back to Hogwarts.

——————————

Sirius knew something was wrong when Y/n didn’t answer any of his letters, assuming that she’d now probably be at the Malfoys, he needed to talked to her. The thought of Malfoy touching her and the things he could do made his blood boil, she was his friend after all. But things at his home weren’t good, his parents were breathing down his neck so he need to find a way to escape, so, of course he asked James for help.

James and Sirius had come up with a plan, but it was certainly dangerous and potentially problematic, just like everything they did. The plan was: Sirius would sneak away from his house, once he managed to do so he would meet with James in his house and the both boys would go pay the Malfoys a visit, once inside Sirius would need to distract the Malfoys since their families are friends while James helped Y/n run away to his house. It wasn’t quite a brilliant plan, they didn’t have much time to think, but Sirius needed to be sure she was safe.

Now Sirius thought he would have great difficulty running away, he waited for everyone to fall asleep to leave his bedroom, managed to avoid the elves, went to the broom closet, grabbed a broomstick, everything was doing great, except for one thing. Sirius’ brother Regulus thought he had herd something and went downstairs, only to find he’s rebellious younger brother trying to run away.

“What do you think you’re doing this time of night Sirius?” Regulus asked not even a bit surprised by his brother’s actions.

Shit, Sirius thought, he had two options lie or tell the truth. He chose the boldest one “Reg, don’t tell our parents” he looked helpless for the first time in his life, Regulus was quite startled “I need to save my friend, she’s in danger. I know we’re not in the best terms but, do this one favour for me-” he paused “I really care about this girl, she’s the Watson’s daughter, you know her”

“What? The Watson’s… you mean Y/n? What happed Sirius? She’s my friend too, is she okay?” He was going to tell his parents before but now he was curious and worried, he liked Y/n, she was nice to him on eventual encounters in their common room or classes.

“She’s- she’s being held captive at the Malfoys” it wasn’t a lie.

“Held captive? And what about her parents? her dad is the Minister of Magic Law Enforcement, what is it you can do that he can’t and on top of that why are the Malfoys supposedly holding her captive?” Regulus was being particularly annoying, he was suspicious of Sirius’ intentions.

“Her parents gave her away, they want her to marry Lucius, but she doesn’t. And i’m willing to ask for her hand if she accepts me, but she wanted to confront her parents, which clearly went terribly wrong” Sirius tried to defend his theses but he didn’t know if Regulus would be willing to let him go or he’d say that she has to marry who her parents want.

“You’re being absurd Sirius, it can’t possibly be that bad, it’s a marriage, considering our families, it’d happen sooner or later. You can’t stop it, if the Malfoys tell our parents they’ll kill you” Regulus was irritated at first, she was only doing what she was supposed to.

“I’m going either way” Sirius wasn’t letting his brother get in the way.

“Ok.” Sirius would be lying if he said he’s jaw hadn’t dropped to the floor. Actually Regulus was quite shocked too, hearing he’s brother say he was willing to marry a girl and a girl that their parents would approve was indeed shocking and he liked Y/n, the thought of her suffering made him less strict with his brother for once.

“W-well- hum ok then” Sirius left as quickly as he could, afraid this was only an hallucination.

James was waiting for Sirius with his bedroom’s window open. When he entered they both went to bed and talked until they fell asleep, the next day would be eventful. Assuming they woke up right before lunch, the boys hurriedly set everything necessary for the plan, muttered apologies to James’ parents and went to pay a visit to Lucius Malfoy. The weather outside was cold, but the sun was shining, making the travel rather beautiful, but the boys didn’t even notice, they were too worried, James couldn’t stop thinking about how Malfoy was treating his best friend, he hated him so much, Sirius had another motives, he hadn’t realised yet and it may take a little push, but he was jealous.

Arriving at that creepy mansion James and Sirius separated, James sneaked in quietly looking for Y/n’s belongings, while Sirius knocked on the door. The house elf asked him to come in and called his master. Mrs. Malfoy was quite surprised but tolerant.

“Good Morning, may i ask your name?” She asked politely

“Oh i’m Sirius Black, Walburga’s son”

“Oh! Sirius what a pleasant surprise, is Walburga going to visit us today?”

“No madam” he paused, grabbing a gift he stole from his parents earlier “my mom asked me to give you this present, I don’t really know why, she didn’t want to tell me what it was” He never lied so badly in his entire life, but knowing Y/n was probably miserable was distracting him.

She found it suspect but didn’t do anything, it was better ti ignore it “How lovely, come in and have lunch with us, Y/n and Lucius will be thrilled to see you” Mrs. Malfoy suggested, probably trying to maintain friendly due to her relationship with the Black family.

Y/n really will, he thought.

When Y/n saw Sirius she felt hope rise in her chest for the first time since beginning of the break, she ran and hugged him tightly, the hug felt warn and safe, she didn’t want to ever let go. But she had to, the action was inappropriate. “Sirius!!! What are you doing here, what a lovely visit” she said winking at him, trying to hold composure but failing.

“Sirius” Lucius greeted him too cordially “Came to visit my fiancé?” He asked with a smug look on his face.

“Not yet, darling” Y/n retorted with a fake smile

Sirius sat next to her at the big table, the room was dark and big, the table was made of hardwood the only light sources were the sun and a weak candelabra, the room had a giant fireplace that was probably the only warm place in the house and heavy curtains. When Lucius and Mrs. Malfoy were distracted, Sirius whispered to Y/n “Say you have to go to the bathroom, James’ waiting for you outside, he probably already has your Trunk”.

His word startled Y/n, that was a dream come true, but she couldn’t “Sirius, I can’t leave, my parents would kill me” she paused to check if no one was listening “If I run it would create a conflict between my parents and the Malfoys and I don’t want to be caught in the middle of it.” She said pretending to pay attention on Lucius’ commentaries “I’m going to stay here” she continued, shocking Sirius completely.

“But your parents want you to get married Y/n, are you just going to- marry Malfoy and the rest of your life with him?” she looked tense, knowing she’d have no choice, he hated seeing her like that.

Suddenly she heard Sirius clear his throat loudly, scaring her “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk with Y/n” he paused, the Malfoys were now looking at him “In private, if you allow us- it’s urgent” Mrs Malfoy looked a little confused but nodded. Sirius took Elena out of the room almost immediately.

“Y/n why in the name of Merlin are you staying here?”

“I can’t go Sirius, I told you, the Malfoys wouldn’t be happy, it could cause a conflict my parents want to avoid” Sirius didn’t look convinced, he knew she was just making excuses but he didn’t know why.

“Really? Isn’t you’re family the most powerful in the sacred-twenty-eight?” He commented mockingly “Why would they be scared of the Malfoys?” Sirius could see the fear in her eyes, she wanted to go but was scared, so he sat her down on a coach near and asked her with those protective grey eyes that made her feel so protected “Y/n, it’s alright you can tell me anything” he said covering her hands in his protectively.

“No, i-i i can’t tell you” He squeezed her hands reassuringly saying that no one would know if she told him. She took a deep breath, e/c eyes staring at his grey ones “If i run, my parents, will kill me” she said eyes now full of fear, it made them look darker.

“Theoretically, right?” He asked concerned, knowing deep down what kind of family the Watsons were, he was surprised with his shock, cursing himself for the stupid question.

“No Sirius!” She whispered shouted “They’ll actually kill me, you want to know how I ended up here at the Malfoys after I told them I didn’t want to come? Do you?” She looked at him waiting for an answer, he nodded “They used two of the three unforgivable curses on me, every day until I agreed to come and marry Lucius” her voice was cracking “They used Imperio, made me not move and then used Cruciatus, I was feeling so much pain that I thought I was going to die and worse, I couldn't move a toe, I couldn’t even try to ease my pain by screaming and moving because i was under their control.” His eyes were now burning with anger “To get me to come here they used Imperio again and I don’t them to use it ever again, I lost all my free will, so what choice do I have?” Her voice was cracking, fighting the urge to cry, only the mere thought of what had happed scared her. “They’d rather see me dead than seeing me go rogue and ruin the family name” she paused, taking a breath and continued, desperation written all over her face “Why do you think i’ve always been pureblood propaganda for my parents? The gracious perfect daughter, perfect sister, the perfect student? because if I did what you do” she gestured at him “They’d kill me” She finished, looking at him, eyes begging for help, face trying miserably to hide her emotions. Sirius was scared, not even his parents had ever done something of the sort and they creative punishers. So he wrapped her in his arms not wanting to ever let her go, wanting to protect every strand of hair in her head. She melted into his embrace, all of the fear and agony being soothed.

“Oh Merlin Y/n, i’m so sorry” Sirius almost cried when she hugged him back tightly, looking for safety in his arms, the arms she knew so well. After a few moments Sirius said abruptly “Marry me Y/n” he felt her body stiffen “Please, I know you can handle this on your own, but I don’t want you to” he paused, caressing her hair “Please marry me, the Black name should be enough for your parents to accept the union, just let me take care of you, please”

For the first time, Y/n didn’t protest, she just nodded and buried her head on his chest, she knew this plan was reckless and would make her parents angry, but she couldn’t control herself, it was like her body couldn’t take the pain anymore. “Y/n, go find James, he’s outside. I’ll talk with Malfoy, please just go, ok?” He kissed her forehead, as she stood up and went to find James.

Sirius went back to the dining room and explained that Y/n had to go home, because she would refuse Lucius’ proposal. The Malfoys were startled and outraged, she didn’t even have the guts to tell them herself? She had to bring another boy? It was all a waste of time and i’d be a disgrace for the Malfoy name if someone found out their son were rejected by a Watson, but surprisingly Sirius managed to convince them, no one created excuses as good as him. Surprisingly the Malfoys didn’t try to stop him, it was a miracle, even though they couldn’t do anything since Y/n wasn’t their daughter and it’d make a scene that could ruin their reputation, that wouldn’t last long though, they needed to run, because they would certainly contact Y/n’s parents to give a piece of their minds, it was a deal after all, they didn’t understand what happened.

“Well then Mr. Black, we hope everything’s turns out to be fine” Mrs. Malfoy politely sneered with a wave of goodbye.

“Eh-hm Thank you Mrs. Malfoy, we’re sorry for the inconvenience” Sirius said a bit nervous, leaving the room as quickly as he could.

While Sirius was talking with the Malfoys, Y/n was running to the front gate where James was waiting for her. “Y/n/n!” He shouted as he saw her running his way, when she arrived he wrapped her in a bear hug lifting her off the ground. “I’m so glad you’re okay” he said warmly, form this day on, feeling her fear as she hugged him back James considered her his sister and she considered him her brother, since he protected her, risked a rescue when she needed the most, that meant the world.

“I’m glad to see you too Prongs” she chuckled lightly at his protective brother hug.

“Here” he said pointing to his broomstick “We’re going together, to my house, when Sirius arrive” she nodded climbing up the broom behind him.

James and Y/n were already waiting, ready to leave, when Sirius showed up getting on his broom saying “Let’s go, let’s go before they warn your parents” and taking off, James following right after. Riding their brooms fast against the cold winter air, happy that their mental plan had worked. When the trio arrived at the Potters, James’ mom was in the garden, certainly not expecting her son and his friend to arrive with a h/c girl with e/c eyes stained with tears.

“James, care to explain?” His mother asked unable to hide her surprise, but going to help the girl and try to calm her down “Let’s go inside, i’ll make you some tea sweetie and you two will explain me what happened” she said looking at the boys.

So, once inside, the boys explained what Y/n was going through and how she was being tortured and forced to marry Malfoy. Euphemia, was disgusted with Y/n’s parents, she had heard of their reputations before but this was cruel. During the whole explanation Y/n was quiet, riding out of her shock, they guessed, until she spoke and everyone went silent “I need to to my house” she said so low it was almost inaudible, they were sure they had heard it wrong but then she said it louder this time “I need to go home before things get worse” the room went silent.

“You’re not going back there Y/n” Sirius was the first to talk, desperation in his voice.

“They’ll kill me if I don’t go back”

“There, One more reason, it’s not safe” James added, but she insisted.

Sirius stopped, looking at her “Ok then, I’m going with you, after I pay mommy dear a visit. Can you wait only until that? i’ll be as quick as possible”

“Yeah Y/n wait a little and calm down, you can stay here until he comes back” James said patting her shoulder gently.

“No, I don’t want to bother your parents, I’m fine” she said shyly, earning a shrug from Mrs. Potter “-and I-i don’t know how long it’ll take until my parents find out i left the Malfoys, it’s too risky”

“Dear, calm down, there’s no problem in you staying here, I promise, wait for Sirius, he’ll be there for you, your parents are not going to hurt you. If your plan doesn’t work then you can stay here with us, just rest for a bit” Euphemia said with a motherly smile on her face.

“But Sirius don’t you think your parents will be warned too?” Y/n tried to protest but James’ mom was already showing her to her room.

Y/n was so tired from the restless nights at the Malfoys, from the fear she constantly felt that Lucius would do something to her and from her parents, that when Euphemia offered the guest room and put her there, she drifted to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Sirius caressed her hair and laid beside for a minute to make sure she was alright after the turbulent events from the break.

While she slept he told James about his plan to marry her, He was a Black, her parents would certainly be pleased with the union if the anger from the Malfoy incident passed and his parents would never refuse to wed him with a Watson, it’d be like refusing royalty, maybe it’d be difficult to explain the latest incident but anyway it was the offer of a lifetime. “Wow, Sirius are you sure? I mean, I want to save Y/n too, but- this, are you sure? This whole marriage thing is mental” James gasped.

“Her parents won’t let her stay here, they’ll try to get her back and make her marry someone else, since we humiliated Lucius, they won’t stop, I know how these people get” Sirius stated “But if I go to my parents and convince them to ask her hand to the Watsons, since she’s not officially betrothed to anyone yet, not only they’ll be thrilled but they’ll also do anything to convince her parents. And my parents would Betroth me one day too so this is just the best option for both of us” James couldn’t argue, it was a good plan in the rough.

“So you’re getting married, that’s serious” James teased “Our dear friend Y/n/n will be future Mrs. Black” he laughed hard at Sirius’ blushed face. “Oh Merlin!” He pointed a finger to Sirius “You like her! You- fancy Y/n, Merlin” James was so excited “It all makes sense, this friends with benefits thing would never work and that’s why you’re so relaxed about marrying her, because you fancy Y/N/N, Merlin!”

“No I don’t, shove off Prongs, you’re hallucinating, we’re friends” The blush on his face wasn’t ignored by James, who laughed harder “Now, i need to go home and convince mommy Black to talk to the Watsons” Sirius cut James off, leaving the room heading to the hell he called home.

“Whatever you say Pads” James yelled from the kitchen.

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

taglist: @msmb ❤️

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myketheartista · 3 years

Text

The Masquerade: How They Came To Be

This is a small headcanon type of thing that I thought of the morning after the stream, so I’m obviously obsessed with these two so much to the point where I made lore for how Sir Billiam and his butler met. To make things easier on myself, I just called the butler Ranboo since I didn’t want to mess too much with canon by giving him a new name.

***Warnings: Light violence, mentions of killing/death, manipulation (from the egg, but just thought I’d include it just in case)***

**Please remember that this is not canon. I took some liberties and assumed a few things based on prior knowledge. Oh, and don’t take things out of context. This is NOT shipping, and I’m putting this here because I know some people will question the way I write them interacting. I don’t condone any shipping with Ranboo or Techno, and that goes for any and all characters they play.

Please enjoy! And leave your thoughts if you’d like :)

Billiam finds the egg. Builds the mansion around it to keep it safe and hidden because it seems like something bizarre enough that could earn him a good sum of money. Sell pieces of it, get rich, live a long, good life swimming in wealth.

He wants to see what it does too, but the more time he spends with it, the more corrupts his mind becomes. Soft whispers that scratch at the walls of his head, telling him to give-- give himself, give others, just give to the egg. And in the beginning stages, it isn’t so bad. He just sees the egg as something valuable. Value slowly transitions into a sort of obsession. He must protect it, feed it, take care of it so no one else will hurt it. If he helps the egg, it’ll help him.

So when he finds a young boy wandering through the endless sea of trees surrounding his estate, he grows a bit defensive. It’s just some random kid, an inch or two shorter than Billiam with messy chocolate brown hair and a dazed look in his eyes (Oh, and he’s definitely lower than a commoner, just look at the mess he is!). Tattered clothes, no shoes, patches of dirt dusting his face and hands; he’s an awful sight. But a peculiar one at best with the notable pointed ears and extra set of canines fitted snug next to the original pair. Whatever he is, Billiam knows that he isn’t a threat, and he can recognize that much through the fog clouding his brain telling him to get rid of this unwelcomed stranger. More than anything, he pities him, and a frown crosses his lips when he tries to get some answers out of the kid, but he’s met with a confused tilt of the head and awkward silence. Well, by observing his overall condition, Billiam concludes that he has no where to go.

So...he takes him in. Not because he cares! He really shouldn’t and doesn’t care for someone of such low status, but seeing Ranboo scarf down a whole plate of whatever Billiam could find along with some cake and a few glasses of water makes him feel a bit uneasy...about- about how much food he can eat, yes, of course. If he’s going to be staying here, he can’t go around eating everything they have. He’ll have to set some ground rules for this new guest. Such as throwing out those old clothes and giving him one of his own dress shirts and a well-made vest he never ended up wearing. Ranboo asks him for help with his tie much too often, and that’s something that should aggravate him, (inability to do anything on his own, how annoying) but he finds himself walking Ranboo through the process each time he’s called for. All the while, as he helps this kid learn the ropes and shows him around, those harsh whispers demand he stop. Get rid of him. He stares at Ranboo, the boy who can’t even speak the language of this planet, can’t remember where he came from, hates eye contact and taking showers, doesn’t even know what he is, and he wonders how the egg could even tell him to kill someone as innocent as him.

Billiam decides he’ll be his butler. Ranboo doesn’t protest since he doesn’t even know what a butler is, but he agrees without complaint. Some conversation over dinner that turned into a fake contract that neither of them signed, but Billiam made the deal that Ranboo can stay if he does his part which was simply obeying him when he asked for the butler. This...quickly got out of hand. Whenever there’s a party and a handful of guests crowd through the front doors, Billiam makes it known that he has a butler, and a very bad one at that. Calls him in that sing-song voice and requests he fetch their new arrivals some wine only to degrade him and claim he’s going a week without food afterwards. Ranboo really doesn’t mind, partially because he can’t even refuse or talk back due to the limitations of his knowledge of the unfamiliar language of this place, but he’s also become a bit dedicated to serving Billiam. The man practically saved his life and gave him everything he could want. When he is allowed to speak, he’s always asking how many words since that’ll guide him towards forming a more accurate sentence with letters and syllables he’s not used to. More often than not, he sticks to humming his responses to make it easier on himself. Even then, there’s not much to worry about. He’s bad with social interaction and the guests rarely pay attention to him, so he often hides in the corner as they all participate in their games and conversations regarding the economy. The more he excludes himself, the more he misses the frequent disappearances of the guests. He never questions Billiam where they went, why they left so early into the evening, why the mansion has terrible lighting problems, (they should get that fixed, it’s quite troublesome) he just enjoys the eventual peace and quiet that fills their home once everyone is gone.

The parties increase throughout the months that Ranboo resides there. It’s exhausting being a butler when all he’s required to do is follow people’s orders-- how does Billiam do it? He’s the one who hosts them, greets everyone, plans the festivities and everything. He should ask him about that sometime. Instead of pestering him, he finds himself watching from the stairs as Billiam catches up with yet another group of friends. Hm...why doesn’t he just invite the same people over? Being rich must make you a lot of friends. But these people seem snobby and annoying. Ranboo doesn’t like them very much. He prefers to stay the way he is, and if that means he remains a “commoner”, then so be it. Billiam, on the other hand, doesn’t mind stepping into a new character every time he hosts one of these masquerades. The weird airy sound to his voice makes him appear friendlier, more trustworthy, but it always makes Ranboo put a fist to his mouth to stifle his laughter. It’s utterly ridiculous and almost childish, but it’s entertaining nonetheless.

He enjoys the soft conversations they share in their far too big of a home when things are back to normal (And when did he start calling it their home?). They usually pass the time by Ranboo asking questions and Billiam responding to the best of his ability which makes him seem smarter than he probably is. But for someone who can’t seem to remember where they came from or how to communicate, Ranboo is grateful for anything Billiam can give him.

So one night, when he thinks they’ve grown close enough to where Ranboo can consider them friends, he wanders the mansion to find Billiam-- wants to ask him something, but he’s nowhere to be found. It’s been months since he’s lived here, and he thinks he knows every nook and cranny of the mansion but…the longer he stares at that duplicate of a spider painting Billiam apparently commissioned someone to make despite the same painting hanging just a few feet over, he starts to feel an itch in the back of his mind. And when he finds the courage to move it aside, finds a secret entrance to a room he’s never seen before, he’s honestly baffled. The atmosphere of the room makes him feel off, and that itch starts to grow, manifests into a voice trying to peel through his thoughts and gain control. It makes him feel...uncomfortable…wrong. And when he sees Billiam standing at the end of the room, back facing him while he stares at a large red mass with vines trailing off of it, up the walls and across the floor tangling around Billiam’s feet, that discomfort shifts to something a little colder. He wanders into the room with light feet and a dry mouth, struggling to get his voice to work.

“Sir?”

The word doesn’t feel as foreign as other words do since it’s the one thing he’s gotten the hang of saying. He sees the visible tension build in Billiam’s shoulders and watches him turn around slowly to look at him, a chill trickling down his spine when he spots the sword in his hand. He gets no response, just a rather lifeless stare from Billiam. He speaks up again.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

It’s as if he was stuck in some sort of trance cause in an instant, a soft smile breaks out onto Billiam’s face and he gestures at Ranboo.

“What wonderful timing! Come closer, I’d like to show you something.”

Ranboo feels strange, but he pushes down the crippling sensation of dread pooling in his stomach and walks up to settle next to Billiam. He feels the light touch of a hand on his back, tensing up as he stares at the oddly shaped...something before them.

“What is this?”

Billiam looks so giddy when he hears the question.

“It’s the egg.”

And Ranboo breaks away from the “egg” to stare at Billiam.

“Pardon?”

Billiam looks at him, and it’s now that Ranboo notices the glint in his eye, the way his once brown irises swirl with red, and the look he gives him reminds him of the expression he wore when they first met.

Pity.

“My dear butler, it’s the egg! It’s a truly magnificent thing, is it not?”

And Ranboo can only stare awkwardly between the egg and the man who he’s lived with all of his life because what the hell is he going on about?

“I, uh,... I don’t seem to understand.”

Billiam’s expression softens, still holding that little ounce of pity that Ranboo has begun to dislike.

“You’ll understand soon enough. Come.”

And the hand on his back gently pushes him forward, guiding him as they walk, and Ranboo feels his heels involuntarily drag against the stone floor, putting up some resistance. That pool of dread begins to manifest into something else. An icy, prickling puddle of fear. Billiam is putting himself behind him as Ranboo draws closer to the egg, and the whispering only grows louder, clawing at his brain and sending a jolt of pain to his skull as it screams at him. It’s becoming too much, it hurts, but Billiam’s hand seems to latch onto the back of his vest, twisting and pushing him downwards just inches from the egg to where he’s on his knees and his hands are planted on the cold concrete below him. He realizes, as goosebumps trail up his arms and his eyes begin to sting, that he’s never quite felt fear before up until now. He doesn’t like it too much. All he can do is stare at the red in front of him, watch as the little vines underneath his hands sprout up from the cracks of the floor and curl around his fingers. The grip on his vest tightens, and he’s painfully reminded who’s doing this to him.

“Do you hear it?”

He just nods, exhaling shakily and struggling to take in any air as the panic settles inside of his chest.

“It’s loud.” He voice wavers as it comes out weak and afraid, and he hears Billiam hum, pleased with the answer.

“What’s it saying?”

And he can’t respond because he doesn’t know, it’s speaking a language he’s never heard, he can’t translate it. He feels the urge to hurt, to kill, to follow, to obey, feels fingers digging into his brain and pulling him forward as if he understands what it’s saying after all, but it all seems like gibberish to him. He feels nothing but everything at once. The grip on his vest tugs lightly, and he swallows thickly.

“I...I don’t know.”

He can practically feel the disappointment radiating off of Billiam when he gives the answer, and he suddenly regrets saying anything at all. He hears Billiam shift and the grip loosens by just a hair.

“Is he not worthy?” Billiam mutters to himself, but…it sounds like it’s directed to someone. Some thing. Ranboo doesn’t know, but it’s said so quietly and sounds…sad. After a few seconds of silence and Ranboo watching those tiny red vines curiously curl even more around his fingers and onto his hand in an attempt to travel up his wrist, he feels the hand leave his back. A sigh escapes him, and he goes to push himself off of the ground to sit on his knees, but a sharp pain quickly replaces the hand, breaking through the layers of fabric and grazing the skin of his back. A strangled noise crawls out of his throat and he ducks his head, trying to arch his back away from the tip of the sword angled towards him.

“Sir?” He sounds so pathetic, so desperate, he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions but he feels like he’s about to be killed by the man who took him in and that’s certainly not settling well in his stomach. Billiam remains silent and that’s what scares him because silence doesn’t seem like a good thing, especially in a situation such as this. The silence lasts for what seems like minutes, but he hears a frustrated huff come from behind him and the sword disappears from his back right when he thinks it’ll slip through him.

“Stand up.”

Ranboo is quick to obey, ignoring the trembling in his legs and wringing his hands together to calm the light shaking that’s taken over them. He hesitantly turns to look at Billiam who’s staring back at him with those red eyes that seem a bit duller this time around. He wants to back away when Billiam moves towards him, but his feet refuse to move and a hand comes down on his shoulder, gentle and somewhat comforting despite the situation.

“You don’t feel anything?”

It seems like he’s desperate now, looking for an answer that will settle the uncertainty bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, and red eyes beginning to lose their glow. Somewhat back to normal. Ranboo pauses for a long moment, hesitant, terrified, legs shaking and throat closing up at the thought of what Billiam will do if he receives an answer he isn’t particularly fond of.

“...No.”

It takes his entire body to force the word out because even though he was on his knees moments ago, pleading that he’d wake up, that this was just a very intense dream where everything felt too real for his liking, somewhere deep down he believes Billiam won’t be mad and kill him right where he stands. That expression only reassures him because it’s coming from the only person he knows to trust.

Billiam sighs again and looks down, a bit defeated, maybe even confused because what is he to do now? He can’t even go through with sacrificing this kid he’s grown a damn attachment to and that’s a problem. If he isn’t the one to admit it, the egg is there to remind him. His hand slides down Ranboo’s arm, hanging limply by his side as his voice grows quiet.

“Do you trust me?”

And Ranboo doesn’t have anything else to say but the immediate “Yes.” that follows. Billiam looks up at him, a bit surprised but gaze a tad softer than it was before.

“What was your name again?”

Ranboo’s hands wring together some more, and he mindlessly picks at the vines that have embedded themselves into his skin. He goes to speak, but his tongue falls differently against the roof of his mouth and clicks against his teeth in a way that Billiam won’t understand. And even though that ends up being true, Billiam still smiles at him and a trickle of warmth spreads throughout Ranboo’s chest.

“Just do as I say, and you’ll be fine.”

Ranboo can’t find it in him to defy what Billiam says.

So when he gives him the sword and tells him to kill the guests that enter their home, he does so without question. He follows his commands as gentle as they are, and he listens to the garbled whispering brushing the edges of his mind. And if his eyes appear a bit redder when he goes to look in the mirror, he doesn’t bring it up to Billiam. He still picks at those little red vines that have melded into his skin as he watches the larger vines of the egg curl around the bodies he’s dragged to this secret room, hidden away from any curious eyes. And throughout the ruthless killings and Ranboo’s slow descent into madness, Billiam continues to treat him the same way, apologizing later on for the small scar on his back. He simply shrugs the apology off and gives him a smile, dragging…what was his name again? James? The name rings a bell, but he disregards the vague feeling of guilt crawling its way into his chest and continues to drag him away by the legs.

Even when he goes back to get Karl and sees the edges of his body disintegrating into little white speckles of what looks like dust, he doesn’t question it or show Billiam. Delivers his body to the egg regardless of whatever strange deterioration Karl’s body was undergoing. Another party, another meal for the egg. As long as Billiam is happy, so is his loyal butler.

#headcanon machine goes brr #dsmp drabbles #dream smp #tales from the smp #sir billiam #ranbutler #technoblade #ranboo #mcyt #dsmp #dream smp fanfic #fanfic #long post #dream smp fic #tftsmp #AND THERE WE GO #took me a few days to edit it and make it pretty but #i just thought of this the morning after the stream and i just #LOST my mind #i just enjoy soft billiam taking this kid in and making him a butler #them being goofy and having almost a mentor and apprentice typa thing goin on #and i do think ranboo isnt as effected by the egg at first because i like the whole desire thing #ranboo doesnt have any immediate desires since he never knew WHAT to desire but #after ranboo discovers billiam with the egg i think his desire becomes to serve billiam to the best of his ability #so he begins that slow descent into madness as i said above #but yeah! i like the headcanon that ranboo is still part enderman in this period of time but #more human than anything #still six feet like irl ranboo bc billiam is pretty tall for bein piglin and all but #the only traits he really has are extra pointy teeth and pointed ears #his height is barely effected

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