#i made their ship name fire reef | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mugiwara-communications · 2 years

Text

Ace X S/O: Admiral Partner.

Thanks for the magic prompt, Anon! They requested "a reaction on the monster trio and ace (+ the reaction of their crew, if possible..) with an admiral s/o, and they have a secret relationship".

Read the rest here! Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace.

Warning: Marineford, but no donuts because this isn't that kind of bakery. WC: 1.55K

“Oh, Mr.Portgas, thank you for saving me, I was completely blindsided (by your naked chest) by the sun! That I missed (your strong arms around me) the reef! And I (oogled your ass) ended up getting stuck in a whirlpool! Whatever can I ever do to repay you for saving me?” Strike a seductive pose and pretend you know what you're doing, despite the masked man behind giving you a thumbsdown. It’s all good, Ace has no idea what you are trying to do either.

Ace is kind enough and the right amount of himbo to trust you, he doesn’t care that the little boat, recently dubbed ‘The Striker’, doesn’t fit three people. Ace felt like he couldn’t just leave you stranded in the waters, he had to help you. Dropping you off at the nearest island, you headed back to the Marine base thinking about the young man who saved you.

You went to the bar that night with a few coworkers, figuring a drink or two would get the chest of your dreams out of your mind. But fate has kinder options when you open the bar door to see the tavern freaking out about a man fainting in his food.

Trained in CPR, you place your hands on his chest and give him mouth-to-mouth… Or a second of lip touching until he rams his forehead into your nose. The subtle taste of fried rice and blood lingers on your mouth long after he wakes up. Recognizing the man as the ‘someone’ who saved you, you can’t help but taunt him.

“Tell me you didn’t do that to catch my attention? Saved me so I save you?"

“There’s an Angel holding my boobs, I’m already in heaven.”

One drink turns into a few, turns into several, to bottles later, you wake up in the morning with a written note, in a doctor’s scrawl, on your arm.

“Sorry for last night, Ace just burns through alcohol, he forgets not everyone is resilient. Here’s my Den Den number, you can talk to him later. (Don’t worry, nothing bad happened.) -M. Deuce"

“Oh, Mr.Deuce, you deserve so many good days."

In the months following up, you get stuck into work so much that most Den Den calls end with you falling asleep before the narcoleptic. Not being able to talk about your job made it vague on both ends, but the subtlety wasn’t lies.

Maybe you were too blinded by his pearly white smile that you didn’t connect ‘Fire Fist Ace’ was the same ‘Portgas D Ace’ you’ve been talking to for a year and a half, until the news crossed your desk that the Spade Pirates joined the Whitebeard Pirates. The call that night was tense.

“You’re a pirate…”

“Yeah, I am… Is that an issue?”

“Oh… No. Not to me. But, I’m a Marine. Is that an issue?”

“No. Not to me.”

Okay, so… New step in the relationship. You have to pretend y’all broke up or he died to get people off your back, now that you’re no longer talking to the handsome man who saved your life. Everyone thinks you’re mourning or something, and lets you stay home from weddings or bar nights. Don’t need you in a relationship after the ‘last one’ was so perfect. Ace makes sure the only person who even knows your name is Deuce, no one on either crew knows you occupy all of his brain.

Throwing yourself into work, you didn’t see yourself becoming an Admiral until the name ‘Shirouma’ was given to you by the old white guys that run the world. ‘White Horse’, as if it was corny enough, the Marine ship they honored you with… has a white horse figurehead. Not intimidating in the slightest. But Ace would enjoy a laugh every time he was able to catch a glimpse of it. Maybe you wouldn’t change it if you got to hear his laugh every time you chased him… Maybe.

During one of your totally normal Marine work days, you got the loving pleasure to go to Holy Land Mary Geoise and meet with the Seven Warlords of the Sea. You get the honors of helping to choose the pirate who will replace Crocodile. You remember Ace talked about his younger brother, Luffy, enough you connected the dots of how Crocodile fell and who beat him.

You thought about recommending ‘Strawhat’ Luffy or maybe Ace again, simply to make it easier to talk to him. But the meeting was interrupted when a tall man in a top hat had to recommend his own captain. Despite being an unknown man, the name 'Marshall D. Teach’ was one you knew quite very well. You try to get the man forgotten, but the idea of sending a man to the Holy Land was just ballsy enough for him to get chosen.

Ace gets captured by the Blackbeard pirates, and Teach gets the Warlord position. There was little you could do. You couldn’t protect him, you couldn’t save him. The second he was sent to Impel Down you knew it was going to be a war. Whitebeard would come for his son, and you didn’t know if anyone knew you and Ace were together.

Nine a.m., the day of his execution, you stood on the main boat that would transport him to Marineford for his death. When you first saw each other, it was hard not to cry. You had never seen him so broken and enraged, hearing his brother had broken into the prison left you with two choices; the one he wanted you to make, to save Luffy, and the one you wanted to make, save Ace

Leading Ace by the chains, you attacked the ones around him first. You weren’t an Admiral for show, you are stronger than that average Marine, you had to be. There were seventy Marines on the boat, over fifty guards of Impel Down, and a secondary unknown Marine ship coming up behind yours. Over a hundred people… versus You.

You didn’t have the power of Haki, it wasn’t a gift you unlocked yet. You didn’t have a strong enough Devil Fruit to combat Logia, Paramecia, and Awakened Zoan at the same time. All you had were your fists and a brain.

Hearing the sea part behind you, the outline of a giant whale opened, and out flew a firey blue bird. Raising your head, he dove to you and you felt talons grip into your arm. Hearing Whitebeard laugh over the sea, you begged for the man to show up.

The last thirty-seven times you called Ace’s personal Den Den Mushi, the call either failed to go through or was answered and ended. You cried when on the thirty-eighth call, a familiar voice answered you. “Combustion.”

“Spontaneous. Deuce, it’s been three years. Have you written me a good book yet?” The only member of the former-Spade and current-Whitebeard pirates to know who you are, the masked man was enough to convince Whitebeard and Marco to trust in you, despite you admitting to be a marine and one of the Admirals.

Sitting on the Moby Dick, well after Ace was saved and Luffy was in a food coma in his big brother’s lap, you leaned against his shoulder. Some of the pirates looked at you from the corner of their eyes, but when Deuce hugged you and let you cry into his shoulder, the crew figured letting you on the ship was… fine.

Well, not by a lot. But for now, you were happy to be in the arms of the man you love.

You got asked one “Why did you answer the call with ‘Combustion’ and ‘Spontaneous’?”

“Because of this.” Leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to Ace’s nose, a large flare came from the top of his head and engulfed his hat. His brain reset for a second before he pulled the cowboy hat off and started waving it. Covering his red face, you attempted to kiss him again.

The months after Ace’s rescue, you left the Marines. Lying and saying the Whitebeard pirates appeared from nowhere and took everyone out, it was too much for you to deal with. Living with Ace on the ship was a dream, neither good nor bad.

Original members of Whitebeard’s crew didn’t let you alone with the man they called Pops, you had to be escorted anywhere and everywhere, anytime you had to make a call was recorded and in face with Marco. With Ace healing and the news of his unknown long-time partner being a marine, saving him just after he was sentenced to die, and then magical Admiral Partner quiting their luxurious job to stay with him. It sounded fake. They didn’t believe it; you had to have been a ruse for them to lower their guard so the real Admirals can show up and kill both Ace and Whitebeard.

After dinner one night, Marco went to check on his little brother in his room. He paused outside the gently cracked door and peaked in. Bathed in candlelight and moonlight, two figures slow dance to no music. With just the feeling of their own heartbeats and whispers unheard, the big brother bird figured you were trustworthy enough.

#one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece fanfiction #mugiwara-communications #one piece headcanons #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace

140 notes · View notes

violets-arepurple · 2 years

Note

I know a little about some Japanese folklore and I would like to offer some suggestions for Kyouka for the Monster high AU!!

I have two in mind that are little references to canon and some just purely indulgent but I suggest you look into to it because fhe myths are so interesting:

1. Yuki Onna (translating to Snow woman) She may also go by such names as yuki-musume ("snow daughter"), yuki-onago ("snow girl"), yukijorō (雪女郎, "snow woman"), yuki anesa ("snow sis'").

Some legends say the Yuki-onna, being associated with winter and snowstorms, is the spirit of someone who perished in the snow. She is at the same time beautiful and serene, yet ruthless in killing unsuspecting mortals. She is a snow vampire essentially and drains the life force of her victims.

My source is Wikipedia (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yuki-onna) and my own basic knowledge but if u search more you’ll find more interesting stuff and apparently there are quite a few stories including Yuki Onna where she is harmless although she is mostly portrayed as a malevolent spirit.

This is a self indulgent reference to Kyoukas ability since this myth reallly reminds me of demon snow and the real author was a Kabuki playwright so wrote about demons and yōkai in his works.

2. This one is more self indulgent but: Zashiki-Warashi (“Parlour child” roughly)

I don’t know much about this one so I’d recommend doing your research. They are mostly child-like spirits and are said to bring good luck. They are harmless. Said to be the ghosts of children and are mischevous rather than dangerous.

I just think it would fit Kyouka.

3. This one is purely self indulgent: Tanuki.

I don’t really need to explain this one I just think Tanuki Kyouka would be cute.

4. Funayūrei: these are “boat spirits” or simply the vengeful ghosts (onryō) of people that died at sea. They’re like the Japanese version of sirens, because in order to increase their numbers our of vengeance they drown people/sink boats at sea. In Yamaguchi and Saga prefectures they are called “Ayakashi”

Funayūrei are believed to use hishaku (ladles) to fill boats with water and make them sink. They are said to be the remnants of people who have died in shipwrecks and are attempting to cause humans to join them. According to legends, there are various methods that can be used to protect from the harm they inflict, such as throwing onigiri into the sea or preparing a hishaku with its bottom missing.

Their appearance as depicted in legends varies widely depending on the area. There are stories that speak of ghosts that appear above water, of boats that are themselves ghosts (ghost ships), of ghosts that appear on human-occupied ships, or of any combination of the above. They are described as appearing like umibōzu (some giant sea creature in myths) or as an atmospheric ghost light (like a will’o’wisp) There are many legends of funayūrei at sea, but they have also been described as appearing in rivers, lakes, and swamps of inland areas.

They are also said to appear on very foggy evenings, and attempt to capsize ships by making a cliff or a boat without a pulley appear, since getting startled and attempting to avoid it would result in capsizing and getting stranded on a reef. It is said that these illusions can be made to disappear by sailing though them.

Other than attempting to sink ships, in the town of Ōtsuki, Hata District Kochi Prefecture, they are said to make the boat's compass malfunction, and in the Toyoma Prefecture, fishing boats that travel to Hokkaido get turned into a funayurei, causing the crew to hang themselves. In Ehime Prefecture, when one encounters a funayurei, trying to avoid it by changing the boat's route, will run the boat aground.

Also, in the past, to avoid shipwrecks during bad weather, people would light a bonfire on land. However, a funayurei would light a fire on open sea and mislead the boatmen, and by approaching the fire, they would get eaten by the sea and drown.

Again source: Wikipedia (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Funayūrei) but you’ll be able to find lots of interesting stuff about them on other sites more nuanced rather than just. Stating facts I guess.

It’s my own obscure reference to the boat fight between Akutagawa, Kyouka and Atsushi in season 1.

ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU LIKED READING ABOUT IT AS MUCH AS I LIKED DRAWINF THE PARALLELS!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH! THIS IS REALLY INTERESTING OMG ILY

In my notes I made for my au I actually have Kyouka down as a Zashiki-Warashi because I think a spirit that can cause harm but ultimately doesn't would fit pretty well with Kyouka. Also from the research I did they're also known to wear red which I thought was perfect

I've also toyed with the idea of demon snow being a separate entity so shes a Yuki Onna and in this au she's the spirit of Kyoukas mother which is why she looks so much like her (i haven't got a concrete plan for this idea though so its in its working stage, perhaps the reason she just follows orders is the ritual that in canon gave Kyouka her ability was meant to give her a protective spirit (if they exist) but something went wrong)

And on the subject of japanese spirits I also have Kouyou down as a Onryō who are specifically vengeful spirits. Which I think fits well with some of Kouyous motivations especially about her lover who was killed and even Kyouka being taken from her. For the minimal plot im going to have i would say she was trying to push Kyouka down a path of vengeance over her parents and was getting pretty close to success Either this or I'll have her as a Jorougumo or Kitsune but I'll need to do a bit more research. For her Golden Demon might be more of an alternate form since she's more in touch with her ability

(I could have her as a Yuki Onna purely so Chuuya can call her Yuki Anesan)

Side note im thinking of changing this from a monster high au to a folklore au since it strays further from monster high every day, let me know what ya'll think

#anon once again i love you #thank you for your time and knowledge #my greatest of blessings upon you #bsd monster high au #for now lmao #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd kyouka #bsd kouyou

11 notes · View notes

maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

The Little Mermaid AU! - Sam x fem!reader part 2

Haha, nothing like procrastinating

Here’s part 1 as a refresher to whatever the hell I’m doing.

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

(Y/N) slowly peaked her head out of the water, searching for treasures left behind. She had found a few things, including her new prized possession. It reminded her or her father's trident but had four of the pointy things instead of three.

To her right, a fish rubbed up against her side.

"Flounder, there you are." She smiled, running her fingers softly over his scales. She produced the fork from her sack she wore, "Look at this? Isn't it cool? I've seen the humans use these to brush their head hair. Or... It looked like that's what they were using. I'm gonna call it a dingle hopper."

Her fish friend look at her, then back toward deeper water, "Uhh, (Y/N)..."

"What is it?" She thought, trying to remember if she had anything to do today, "Oh no. Oh No!" She started swimming back towards her home, Flounder hot on her heels, "The ceremony!"

(Y/N) swam through the curtain to the throne room where her father at in his throne, flanked by her sisters.

"Well, look who the catfish dragged in." Pallas spat.

Ignoring her sister, (Y/N) bowed her head, "Father, I'm so sorry. I forgot-"

"Young lady, as a result of your behavior-" Father began.

"Reckless behavior!" The royal advisor crab, Sebastian piped in.

"The whole ceremony-"

"Was a disaster! I was the laughing stock of the reef!" Sebastian clicked.

"Sebastian."

"I had a courtship planned with the prince of the Arabian see but I dropped it all for you!" Triteia shouted.

"No wonder we were mother's favorites!" Pallas sneered.

"Enough!" Triton struck his trident on the ground, silencing the chatter. He moved him thrown to where she was, head still bowed. He lifted it up gently.

"My sweet child, you have such an amazing gift."

"I know," She sighed, meeting his eyes, "I have mother's voice."

"Then please, for her memory's sake."

"Alright, father. I promise." She smiled softly.

"It wasn't her fault really." Flouder bubbled up, "She couldn't have heard the call horns from shore-" He quickly shut his mouth, realizing what he had said.

"The shore?!" Triton bellowed.

"Nothing happened." (Y/N) fiddled with her fingers.

"How many times must I tell you?” Triton boomed, “You could have been seen by those barbaric humans!”

“Father, they’re not barbaric!”

“They are dangerous. I will be long gone in the muck before I see my youngest daughter snared by some fisher-eater’s hook.” Triton crossed his arms over his chest.

“I am not a child!” She called back.

“Don’t you use that tone with me, young lady. As long as you live in this ocean, you’ll obey my rules.” He turned to go back to the throne.

“But, if you would just listen-”

“Not another word - and I am never, NEVER to hear of you going to the surface again. Is that clear?” He didn’t even look at her, just tossing a glance over his shoulder. Tears pooled up in her eyes, she swam out of the throne room. Flounder came up behind her. They both swam all the way to her secret cave where she had started collecting her human treasures.

‘Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Flounder asked.

She shook her head, “If only I could make him understand.” She sniffled, “I just don’t see things the way he does. I don’t see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad.” She swam to one of her shelves, motioning to the various items.

“I mean, look at this stuff. Isn’t it neat?” She swept her arms out, “Look at this trove, treasures untold. How many wonders can this cavern hold? Looking around here you’re probably think that I have everything that I would need. I’ve got gadgets, gizmos, whozits, whatzits. And thingamabobs, I must have twenty of those. But, I want more.” She grabbed a flimsy thin thing that had colored art of people near the beach.

“I wanna be where the people are. I wanna see them dancing. Walking around on those...feet. Feet. Flipping my fins, I won’t get too far.” She motioned to her tail, “Legs are required for jumping, dancing, walking along down the...what was it? Ah, the street. Up where they walk, run, stay all day in the sun. Wandering free, I wish I could be part of that world.”

She sighed, “What I would give if I could live out of these waters. What I would pay to spend a day warm on the sand. And I betcha on land they understand, bet they don’t reprimand their daughters. Bright young women, sick of swimming and ready to stand.” Flounder only watched her rant, following her around the cave.

“I’m ready to know what the people know. Ask them my questions and get some answers. Like what’s a fire and why does it...does...burn. I just wish I could be part of the human world.” She sighed, resting on a large rock.

Suddenly a large crashing brought both of their attention to Sebastian who was scuttling around the cave.

“Sebastian!?” They both shouted.

“(Y/N), have you gone mad? How-what-what is all this?” He clicked.

“It’s my collection. Of things.” She said.

“Ah your collection. Hmm.” He thought a moment, “IF YOUR FATHER KNEW ABOUT THIS HE’D-”

“You’re not gonna tell him are you?” Flounder swam up to Sebastian.

“Oh please, Sebastian. He would never understand.” She pleaded.

“Your highness. You are under a lot of pressure down here. Come with me, I’ll take you home and get you something to help you feel better.” As he said this, the cave went black, meaning a ship was passing overhead. With an excited giggle, she started her way up towards the surface, Flounder followed while Sebastian called after her. She swam up until she was looking across the floor of the ship. It seemed the humans were having a little party. They were laughing and music was playing. One of these men was the most handsome creature she had ever seen. He was tall, his hair was longer and a brown color. He had the kindest looking smile.

A short man with shorter came up to the tall man.

“Congrats, First mate.” He chuckled, patting his back, Here, I wanted to show you this.”

The tall man took the picture, “The woman and white case. First picture of our first hunt together. Thanks.”

“No problem. Bitch.”

“Jerk.” He chuckled. That must be his name. Bitch. It sounded cool.

From up above, the sky grew dark and thunder rumbled in the sky.

“SEA STORM! STAND FAST! SECURE THE RIGGING!” One of the man shouted. (Y/N) and Flounder swam a ways from the ship, the violent thrashing of the waves was too dangerous to be around.

A large wave crashed into the ship, causing the Dean to loose his footing, falling and sliding across the deck, holding onto the bars of the ship top.

“Dean! Hang on!” The Sam shouted over the wind.

“WE’RE GOIN DOWN, LADS! GET TO THE BOATS!” The sailors made their way to the boats. Sam went to follow, but his life line to the mast was tangle around his feet.

“I’m stuck!” He called, but the rest of the sailors had gotten to the life boats.

“SAM!” Dean called. He was about to call back his brother’s name but the tallest wave he had ever seen crashed down on the ship, plunging him down into the depths.

(Y/N) watched the ship go down, “Oh no!” She dived down, Flounder calling to her.

“It’s too dangerous!” He bubbles fell on deaf ears as she swam down into the wreck, seeing the tall man. His eyes were closed and little bubbles came from his lips. She grabbed the sharp silver stick from his belt cutting the rope, grabbing him under his arms and pulling him towards the surface. When they broke the surface, she pulled him all the way into shore, laying him on the beach. The storm had gone as quickly as it came.

(Y/N) looked over him, brushing wet hair from his face. He looked so peaceful. He suddenly turned his head to the side, coughing up water loudly, taking deep gulping breathes. She pulled away, then came back when he was back on his back, he eyes still closed.

“Oh what I would give to live where you are. What would I pay to stay here besides you. What do I do to see you smile? Just you and me and I could be part of your world.” She spoke softly, tracing his face.

Sam slowly opened his eyes a bit, the bright sun making it too hard to see. He could see the outline of someone above him. He could hear a soft, sweet voice humming, the same song that he had heard earlier that day.

“Sam!” He heard a voice in the distance, the person above him looked in the direction and quickly moving away, followed by a splash in the water. He heard footsteps approaching, Dean kneeling down next to him.

“Sam! Sam, can you hear me?!” Sam opened his eyes a little more.

“Yeah, I can hear you. Loud and clear.”

“You almost gave a heart attack, you know that?” It had been a while since Dean scolded him.

“There was a girl. She rescued me.” Sam panted, happy to feel the air in his lungs, “She was singing.”

“Did you drink too much sea water?” Dean raised an eyebrow at him, “Come on, up you go big guy.” Dean helped Sam to his feet, helping him back towards the others while medical helped arrived.

(Y/N) watched them from behind a stone, Flounder and Sebastian at her sides.

“We just gotta forget this whole thing ever happened. The sea king will never know. You won’t tell him, I won’t tell him. I stay in one piece.” He clicked, snapping his claws nervously.

“I don’t know when, I don’t know how.” She clutched the photo of the two humans to her chest, “But I know something’s starting right now. Watch and you’ll see. Someday I’ll be part of your world.” She said to herself, following after the crustacean. What she didn’t see, however, were the two eels that had been following and watching them.

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

I definitely didn’t only now just make the sequel for this AU it’s fine. I think I’m afraid that these will never be as good as Beauty and the Beast AU

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist:

@happy-little-winchester

@hobby27

@tranzfred

@vicmc624

@ria132love

@lilulo-12

@teenwaywardasgardian

@tloveswriting

@mikrokosmicjoon

@calaofnoldor

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #little mermaid au!#maxineswritingcenter

40 notes · View notes

ambrial-blog · 3 years

Photo

As a boy traveling on the treacherous pirate ship Loo-Loo land Blitzo mysterious falls into mermaid infested waters. Blitzo doesn’t know how to swim.

He was born with a defective heart. Lord Mammon and the sea pirate Fizzourali had taken a liking to him. (his remaining sisters were locked in the barracks used as severing winches for the captain and his crew. While Blitzo was made to entertain Lord Mammon. During a turbulent storm, he is thrown overboard and is rescued by a Mer-Serpent named Striker. The Mer-Serpent then takes him to a sandy island behind a gigantic reef trying to revive the boy.

He tilts the Harlequin head as Blitzo coughs up sea water, Blitzo wake up to a low hissing noise and someone stroking his face. Striker is watching him intently his yellow-bedeviled eyes glowing a low hiss vibrating at the back of his throat as he takes in the many scrapes and cuts, the jagged abrasions that ran down his torso.

But he also notices the heart-shaped mark on his forehead, he loves to shower kisses on that spot and splash the boy with his long tail. He needs to kiss Blitzo to learn his language. But right now is perfectly content with keeping the tiny imp all to himself. He wants to see the boy, grow and flourish but is frustrated because Blitzo doesn't understand him, he is constantly trying Striker's patience. The Mer-serpent had never taken care of anyone in his life- he was alone, for as long as he could remember. content with keeping Blitzo to himself until the boy comes of age. Then, he could kiss him all he wanted.

“I have to get back to Loo-Loo land, my sisters are in danger!” night crept in and so did an icy chill Blitz had made a kindling fire away from the seashore. He had learned the hard way not to build a bonfire near the sea. Striker would just splash it out. He had scavenged around for his dinner finding fish near the shoreline. Stryker's s way of apologizing

Blitzo knows It isn't feasible to live on this island forever, much to the serpent's adamant ways of getting him to stay. Striker brings him beautiful seashells of various shape, size and color. But the boy is adamant on leaving

Striker has an ever growing possessive streak, any attempt to get off the island was meant with the business end of his tail. The harlequin winces as the wind is knocked out of his lungs and his wounds are split open. Stryker eyes widen as he reaches for the imp his tail wrapping around his wrist Blitz is pulled through the hot sand towards the salty seas. He struggles as Striker licks the wound with his tongue he keeps Blitz tightly secured in his tail. Listens to the seething hiss as he washes the wound out with salt water before nuzzling the boy. He doesn't understand why Blitz is crying or what he had done. Eventually Blitz rests his head on Striker's shoulder as the Mer-Serpent wraps his wound with seaweed.

“Why don't you understand me?” How can I make you see, that I don't belong here my place is with my sisters” he breathes into Striker's ear.

Blitzo has tried nine times to leave the island each time he was dragged back onto shore after being half drowned by an irritable sea-serpent. Striker was tempted to kiss him, despite the age differences so that he could interact with him on a wider scale. The boy is dripping wet from the sea his clothes need to come off and a fire needs to be lit. Striker gives Blitzo three swift and meaningful swats on the backside with his hand. Blitzo backed up holding his hands up rubbing his butt. He tackles the Mer to the sand screaming at him. His hits doesn't register with the Mer as he dangles Blitzo up with his tail. He smiles amused as he nuzzles the boy. “Such a little firecracker” thought Striker.

That night Striker decided to stay with the boy, putting fish onto the skewers placing them close to the bonfire. Later that day he had fished out a water-logged blanked from one of the undersea shipwrecks and draped it over some wire before diving back into the ocean to find something, the child would like.

He watched as Blitz began to stir and shiver his head resting in his arms his naked form scooting closer to the kindling fire. Blitzo was wheezing his body burned with fever. He could see the luminescent glow from the serpents eyes and hear a faraway cry of an owl. The Owl circling him was known as an Ares Goeita a demonic bird with a piercing cry.

Blitz crawled into the brush to hide pulling his shaking limbs closer to him, shielding his face. His stomach rumbled and his fever flared. Tears brimmed his eyes. Striker had returned just in time to see the boy crawl his way into the brush he looked up growling at the circling fowl. He flicked his tail shooting sea water at the Goeita as the large bird landed on the island.

Blitzo's eyes were glazed over as he lifted his head to the sound of crunching sand, he cranes his neck peering up and out through the large shrubbery his golden eyes catching a glimpse of the naked form of an owl prince.

Stolas's crimson eyes widened upon seeing the boy, panting and out of breath. He patted the spot next to him realizing something was wrong as the boy crawled out. His eyes darkened upon seeing the faded scars on his body he lifted his cape up to warm the child's naked body.

“My name is Prince Stolas little one what are you doing on my island?” Blitz didn't respond he was fast asleep nestled against the prince's side.

Stolas closes his eyes at the instant fizzing sound of a rattlesnake a deep growl emanates at the back of his throat. The Serpents tail splits into a pair of legs as Striker places a knife to the prince's throat his body is dripping wet his golden-yellow hair clinging to his neck. The crimson gleam of the hilt catches the setting sun. as Striker growls as Stolas peers up into the murderous eyes of the Mer-serpent.

“I'm guessing he belongs to you, or you've cobbled onto him because whatever falls into the nine seas is yours to toy with.”

“All you Mers are just alike toying with little- impish- playthings he is far from his own people. And he holds the markings of a pirate ship”

“They hunt your kind, and your enamored with one of their own”

“You can't even communicate with him properly unless you kiss him”

Stryker digs the knife in deeper “Did I touch a nerve! “mind your own business, Owl” the Mer growls “This is my island not yours blue-blood”

“My mistake, Blitzy is freezing and the fire is dying” states Stolas. Standing up brushing the sand from legs and placing his red velvet cape around the naked child.

“You Mers are insolent children fighting over a shiny object”

To Be Continued

#Hellvua Boss #FutureStriker/Blitzo #Stolas/Blitzo #Fanfiction MerTales #Illustrated by Nh1hilla #coming Soon to a full-length fanfiction #Sneak Peak in The Cowboy and the Harlequin #MPREG #Nh1hilla Art

8 notes · View notes

dragonsateyourtoast · 4 years

Text

Special thanks to @owl-in-a-top-hat for their support of social justice! They requested something from the Calliope's Tale universe, and I am happy to oblige. Sorry this took so long - it got a little lengthy, haha! And then I had to rewrite the entire end of it because tumblr decided to delete my edits.

Her name was Miyei, and she was the queen of the sea.

No nation could capture her. No navy could break her fleet's formation. There was no ship upon the seas of the world that could - or would - best her.

This was in the old days, before the Midnight Sun and Calliope, before the Crown and their vile trade, before even Buroni Hakir and its law of fealty. This was when those that could conquer the waves were considered strong as the gods themselves, able to tame the water beneath and the wind about.

Her name was Miyei.

A fleet of five hundred ships, she had. A fleet that no coastal village could stand up against. No port could deny them. They could blockade a nation if they wanted, and vanish into the Topaz Islands the next day, invisible amongst the thousands of tiny stones jutting from the sea, the coral reefs that lurked beneath them. The Islands belonged to Miyei and her fleet, and everyone knew it. No one could navigate it like she did. No one had ever mapped its intricate formations.

Inside the islands, Miyei was safe. Until she wasn't.

Perhaps it was her hubris and disrespect that brought Kulari's wrath down upon them, or perhaps it was just chance that coaxed a hurricane from the southeastern waters and sent it roaring to the coast in a day and a half. Whatever the truth, even Miyei's seers did not sense its approach, not until it was too late. The hurricane burst over the Islands like an angry god, ripping the trees from their stones and ripping the fleet apart. She mobilized them as soon as it appeared on the horizon, but they weren't fast enough. Perhaps half the fleet escaped. The other half was too slow to run, or they thought the Islands would shelter them. That was not true - the Islands simply gave the storm something to batter them against.

Miyei's flagship, the Blue Bone, was one of the ones caught behind. When the hurricane came, it tore her ship to shreds beneath her and threw her into the ocean like a ragdoll.

This is it, Miyei realized, as she saw the stormlight fading above her, the water dragging her down. I will be no more.

To her surprise, she awoke some time later, laying atop a flat piece of wood in the water. When she scrubbed the salt from her stinging eyes, she realized she was afloat on half of a ship's deck, in the calm, cloudy blue water of the Islands. She didn't try to stand, just squinted around at the world.

There was something watching her at the edge of the deck.

Miyei scrambled back from a creature with eyes so dark brown they were almost black and skin almost as dark as its eyes, head resting on its crossed forearms. "Stay back!" she shrieked, grabbing for something, anything - a piece of metal tied to the deck, anything. She held it out in front of her like a sword, shaking hands pointing the sharp tip towards the creature.

She'd seen merids before. But never this close. "Stay away from me!" she shouted, and the merid, finally, slid backwards into the water and disappeared.

Miyei took stock of her surroundings. Ship deck, metal piece, and a few of the islands in sight. But she didn't have any way to paddle her raft to them, and she didn't know if she would be able to swim all the way to one of the nearer blots of rock. For several hours, she tried to construct something, all the while well aware of the blistering heat of the sun and the lack of water.

Towards midday she sat down. "I am going to die here," she murmured, and wondered if she ought to just let Zzoriel take her now for the reef.

A laugh came from beside her. She sat upright, eyes wide, and saw again the merid beside her. "Stay-" she started, but the merid interrupted her by pulling a parrotfish out of the water and tossing it onto the deck.

The merid - mermaid, from the looks of it - just watched as Miyei carefully stole forward and touched the fish. It was dead, freshly so. "I..." Merids couldn't speak; that was ridiculous. Still... "Is this... a gift?"

"Is it?" The mermaid said, and disappeared again.

Stunned, Miyei sat down hard on the salt-crusted wood. Xikaal grant me the breath in my body and salt in my tears, what? she thought. But... I've never heard a merid speak before! They, they can't...

No. Now was not the time for pondering. She didn't have a fire to cook it with, but a fish was a fish, and the one thing that hasn't been torn from her in the hurricane was her knife, a coral-handled iron blade that gleamed bright silver in the sun. She stripped as much flesh from the fish as she could and savored it.

By the evening, she still hadn’t found a way to get herself to the nearest island in the chain. She didn’t even know where in the chain she was, though she had a vague idea - she knew the shapes of individual rocks poking above the water. But... she couldn’t reach them.

At nightfall, she waited to see if the mermaid would come back. When she spotted a flash of brown under the water, she went still and silent, until the mermaid’s dark head poked up above the swell.

“Listen,” Miyei said, speaking quickly in case she darted off again. “I am a pirate queen. Anything you want, I can give to you, if you get me back to the islands.”

“A queen,” the mermaid scoffed. “Really? With what nation?”

She can speak! She can really speak! Where did she learn?! Never mind, that doesn’t matter. “I’m powerful enough to build my fleet back up if I can get to an island with enough wood and sticks to build a raft back to one of my strongholds.”

The mermaid watched, leaning on the edge of the raft. It tipped perilously; Miyei swayed to keep her balance. “Sure,” the mermaid drawled. “Whatever.”

And she was gone. Miyei sat down again, frustrated, but she didn’t come back that night.

The pattern repeated the next day. The mermaid gave her a fish; Miyei tried in vain to make some kind of sail, or paddle or something that could get her moving. But one of the things that made the Topaz Islands hers was her wind-magic sailors, the ones that could power the ships through this unnaturally calm area, usually so untouched by Kulari’s breath. There was no breeze to sail by.

That night, the mermaid came back. “You must take me to an island,” Miyei ordered her, rage bubbling in her chest. “You must!”

“Or what?” the mermaid asked. “You’ll kill me? Out here, it’s you who’s in danger. I’m doing fine.”

Miyei seethed, but she was right. “You will take me to one of my strongholds, or I will kill you,” she snapped.

The mermaid stared at her, then shrugged and slid under the water. Miyei this time charged forwards to the edge of the raft, that sharp piece of metal in her hand, and stabbed it down into the water. Nothing. Of course not.

Then the mermaid’s hand closed around the metal and tugged hard, and Miyei overbalanced and was dragged into the sea. The water was cool to the touch, and she automatically shut her mouth and held her breath, trying to right herself - but strong hands grabbed onto her and held her in place, one over her mouth, one around her torso and arms, locking them down. The mermaid was behind her. Miyei knew instantly that she could not escape, but she struggled anyway.

“You’re foolish,” the mermaid told her, voice clear in the water, somehow. She just held Miyei, below the surface. Miyei knew she could hold her breath for four minutes, but she hadn’t been prepared, and she knew the merid could out last her. “Do you want to stay down here with me? Is that it?”

No! Miyei struggled, shaking her head.

“Then get out of my ocean.” The mermaid released her. Miyei flailed, then kicked upwards until she broke the surface, gasping for breath, and pulled herself back up onto the wooden raft.

The next day, at midmorning, she sat down on the planks and called out, “What are you doing?”

No answer. Miyei narrowed her eyes. “I know you can hear me,” she shouted, voice ringing over the waves. “What’s your plot, here? Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

The mermaid surfaced next to the ship and leaned on it again. “I want you to stop ruining my islands,” she said, conversationally. “You have cannons and swords. My people do not, except of ocean glass and stone and coral. We can’t beat you in a fight. So we’re forced to negotiate with you, except you people won’t listen unless we make you listen. It’s an opportunity.” She shrugged.

Miyei glared at her. “Well, fine, you have my attention,” she snapped.

“Good. Promise to leave the islands alone forever, and I’ll take you to a stronghold. Then you can clear your people out and leave.”

That... was absurd. But Miyei knew she wouldn’t be getting out unless she did this. Besides, she could just lie. “Deal,” she said.

“That was surprisingly easy,” the mermaid said, watching her face. “Too easy. You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not!”

“And there, too.” The mermaid shook her head. “That’s not a deal if you mean to break it. You just want to get back up on a ship where you’re safe away from me, and then you’ll continue parading around. Well, I’ll tell you this: we asked Kulari for help once, and we can do it again. If she gets tired of helping us, she’ll bother Athu about it. Then what? Then what happens to you, pirate queen?”

Miyei glowered at her. “I can’t leave the Islands,” she said. “They’re where my fleet needs to hide. It’s where we live.”

“I can tell you right now, we were here first,” the mermaid said, shaking her head. “We were here first, and we don’t care for you moving in and saying it’s yours.”

“I can’t just make them leave!”

“Yes, you can. You made them come here. You can make them leave here.”

“It’s not that simple!” Why am I even entertaining this thought? This creature wants me to destroy my entire empire! “You can’t just make people leave.”

“Well, I hope you figure out a way to do that,” the mermaid said. “When you do, I’ll be ready to tow you back to a stronghold, so you can enact your plan. Good luck.” And she disappeared again.

Miyei stamped her foot on the deck and swore several times, loudly. Curse this stupid merid! Curse that stupid storm! None of this was - none of this should have happened! Wretched, horrible merids, lurking underneath the waves and causing problems and now trying to take her Islands from her! No - she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave. She’d just have to - she’d just have to lie better.

She waited several hours, then called out again. “Fine,” she snarled. “I hate it. And I hate you. But I like living better. Do you hear me? I’ll adhere to your horrible conditions if you’ll only let me go!”

A disturbance in the water. Miyei strode over to the edge of the raft and stared down into the water. “Do you hear me?” she again shouted.

A hand shot out and clasped around her ankle, and with a shriek, Miyei was again dragged down into the water. She clawed at the boards, but all she did was get a splinter in one hand before she was dragged into the water.

The mermaid stared at her, holding her by the shoulder. “You just cannot bring yourself to be a good person,” she said, sounding irritated. “So I’ll have to force you to be one. I was really hoping maybe you’d just have the decency to listen and realize there are real people you’ve invaded here, but I should have known from your past habits that you’re not capable of such a thing, so I’ll have to play tour guide and hope my land can speak for itself. You disgust me.” With that, she shook her hair out of her face and sang out a few sharp, clear notes that made Miyei’s vision blur and go black. She felt her body involuntarily breathe in and shrieked - this creature was trying to drown her! - but the water just felt like thick, humid air, rushing into her lungs, and out again, taking her air bubbles with it. It stung, and hurt in her throat and nose, but after a few moments, she was forced to accept that it wasn’t killing her.

The mermaid was watching her when she opened her eyes. “If you climb out of the water, you’ll drown,” the merid said casually. “So I really wouldn’t recommend trying to get away.”

If it had been humans she’d been negotiating with, Miyei would’ve tried to escape. But this was a merid. And she’d done something to Miyei, something magical, and there was no way Miyei could count on her magic not killing her if she tried to break free. So she glowered at her and said nothing.

“Good! Great. Now, come on.” The mermaid grabbed hold of Miyei’s wrist and immediately towed her away from the raft.

There was so much more beneath the Islands than she’d realized. Miyei could swim, of course, and was familiar with reefs, but she’d never been one to go exploring around in them like some folks did. The seabed here went deeper than she expected in caves and crevasses, and the coral covered secret clearings of white sand and green seagrass. Her vision was unexpectedly clear down here, peering through the water, and the sunlight that reached down showed an extraordinary number of fish and corals hiding on and in the rocks.

But more impressive than that were the merids. Miyei had rarely ever seen a merid in the Topaz Islands - she’d assumed they were too shallow for them. But here, she saw them everywhere. Watching from behind rocky outcroppings, cloaked in the green sea-grass sprouting from the sand beds, tucked underneath a spur of coral just peering out at her. They all stared at her, and each had an expression of mixed curiosity and... hatred?

Why do they look at me like that?

“They hate you because they were here first, and you and your fleet moved in and started destroying everything,” the mermaid told her, conversationally. “You drop your anchors on our coral. You catch all the fish and leave none for us. You destroy things we create without even noticing, and you do not listen to us. These are where we raise our children. And you just sail on in and wreck the place. Can you see why we have a problem?”

Miyei tried to speak. To her surprise, she could, though it was hard, forcing water sluggishly through her throat. Her lungs weren’t used to this kind of effort. “Why... didn’t you mention this... before?”

“You don’t think we tried?” the mermaid snapped. “We tried! But nobody listens to sea monsters. I had to learn your horrible language in order to even get you to listen.”

“You could’ve... talked to us before.”

“No, I couldn’t have. You would’ve captured me in a net and put me in a tank for entertainment. Absolutely not.”

That... may have been true. Miyei winced. You don’t use people for entertainment. But I didn’t know they were people, she thought, and grimaced, and said nothing.

“You look uncomfortable,” the mermaid said, with a kind of grim satisfaction. “Good! You should be.”

She continued to drag Miyei after her, downwards, towards a large hollow in the rocks. It led to a soft sandy area, where several mer-matrons carefully watched a few chubby, awkward-looking blobs go floating about. Baby mermaids, Miyei realized, staring at them. They were... very strange looking. Weirdly similar to human children, except for the gills and the heavy, fleshy tail.

“Oh, yes, we have children,” the mermaid commented. “I know, astonishing. It’s almost like we’re people who come from somewhere.”

“I get it,” Miyei grumbled. “I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” The mermaid turned, staring at her. “You don’t get it. We live here. You tried to steal our home from us, and you’ve been succeeding this whole time. You need to leave here.“

“But where... do we go?” Miyei asked.

“That,” the mermaid sniffed, “is not my problem. There are other islands to live on that don’t have our ancestral birthing grounds underneath them. Go use those.”

The mer-matrons had gathered together in a little group, warily watching Miyei and the mermaid. The mermaid sighed and called out something in a searing, hissing language that made Miyei’s ears hurt; the mer-matrons responded, their voices deeper and stronger, and stayed where they were.

“What’s your name?” Miyei asked.

“Ah, finally!” The mermaid turned back to her. “Finally you ask! I was really wondering how long it would take you to realize I probably have a name.”

“I get it, alright?” Miyei snapped. “There’s no reason to keep on me like this. I get it!”

The mermaid glared at her. “You couldn’t pronounce my name if you tried,” she snapped. “It’s Skreshkaiurhsra. You can call me... let’s go with Resh.”

Miyei took a deep breath (of... water. It still unnerved her) and let it out. He crew on the Blue Bone answered to her because she was just and fair to them, and because she punished anyone who broke her rules. If - if - she got out of this mess, she knew, she’d have to adhere to the merids’ demands, or face the same punishment.

And... she didn’t realize there were kids down here. Children.

“Resh,” she said. “Right. I’m Miyei. So to get home, what do you need me to do?”

Resh wouldn’t let her go that easily. She casually assured Miyei that the magic wouldn’t wear off any time soon and told her to help out. The storm had ripped some of the reef apart - the merids were trying to repair it as best as they could.

It wasn’t natural, Miyei was told. The reef was cultivated, kept at its most beautiful and healthy, by the merids who lived here. Some were here all year round to maintain it, and others came and went, coming here to give birth to their children, leaving later once they were grown. “Like turtles,” she said, “but, you know, awake in the thoughts.”

Awake in the thoughts. The thing that Miyei had thought merids weren’t.

It was easier to lift stones and coral underwater, but Miyei wasn’t as quick swimming as the merids were. A single flick of their tails, and they were gone; she had to drag herself through the water. She didn’t belong here, and it was obvious. For days, she struggled to keep up with the merids, doing what they asked of her - she had no choice! And by the end of a week, the younger mermaids (not the babies, but the children) were brave enough to whirl around her, taunting her in their weird language.

“Go away,” she snarled at them, a time or two, feeling her face flush. She didn’t like being made fun of.

“Aww, they’re having fun,” Resh said, appearing behind her. “They aren’t faster than the adults. Let them mock you.”

“Why?!”

“Because they’re children, and they’re having fun,” Resh replied. “Honestly. Were you ever a child, or were you born grumpy?”

Miyei was worried about her fleet. The Blue Bone had been destroyed, she knew, and half her fleet with it. Where were they now? Had they chosen a new captain, a new queen? Would they try to find her? Or would they assume she was gone? Where was her life now, all remnants of it sunk beneath the waves? And myself with it, she thought, looking up to the glittering surface far above. I’m down here, too.

No one came looking for her. It was as if the world above the surface ceased to exist. Everything was the ocean: the coral, the merids, the water that she breathed. Everything. The ocean became the only thing that mattered. Two weeks. Three. A month. Two months.

The merids stopped being so afraid and wary of her, after a time. She’d long since lost that piece of metal, and she didn’t use her knife as a weapon - it was a tool, nothing more. They even seemed to be okay with her presence around. Resh almost seemed to like her.

And then the storm.

It was sudden. The first news they got of it was a crack of thunder over the ocean miles away that they could hear, even from the caverns. All the merids started, and looked up; Miyei, who’d picked up a little bit of their language, could understand what they were saying. A storm? Approaching? They hadn’t thought there would be one. Merids could feel when storms came. But they hadn’t felt this one.

She swam out of the cavern and found Resh as quickly as possible. “There’s a storm coming,” she told the mermaid, as if she didn’t know.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Resh said, but her face was more worried than irritated. “That shouldn’t happen. And we didn’t call that.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know. Maybe some of your old friends, who knows.”

The storm came. Miyei had never seen a storm from below before. She thought that perhaps the wind would be dulled underwater, that it would simply be a lovely light-show. She couldn’t have been more wrong. The water became her enemy, roaring, twisting, tearing sand and plants up from the seabed. Fish hid inside the rocks and corals, but even those weren’t safe. The water ripped at the reef like a sea serpent.

Resh hauled boulders in front of a cavern where several merid families had fled for refuge. "Bring more!" she bellowed when she saw Miyei. "Seal it up, keep them safe!"

"I will," Miyei called back, and then the storm ripped away any further words she could have said. She had a split second to think before a wave came roaring in. A whirl of water caught a rock and sent it hurtling away towards the mermaid.

The last thing Miyei remembered was trying to warn her. "Resh!" She remembered shouting, and then there was water, and sound, and -

Miyei woke on the shore. Wet sand on her cheeks. Air blowing above her. When she raised herself up, she was seized by a fit of coughing and choking; water in her lungs trying to escape, to be replaced with air. Air. I’m alive. I’m on land.

There were voices in the distance. Miyei dragged herself to her knees - she was so heavy, so clumsy here! - and spat up water. It didn’t sting like she thought it would.

Voices drew closer, and Miyei sat back on her heels and turned her face to the sun. She breathed in, deep - deeper than she should have. The air felt like nothing. She breathed too much, and it sent her coughing again.

By the time she recovered, she was surrounded by people. “Queen!” someone shouted. “Queen, Kulari’s breath, you’re alive!“

Those must be from her fleet. Her crew. The ones that made it out before the storm. She tried to breathe lightly - had it always been this easy? No, she was simply used to the water, which resisted her, which supported her, not this place of air and dead sound where she had to drag herself along through nothing - and looked at them.

“Queen,” one of them started, and then the words died in their mouth. They stared at her, eyes wide, faces pale. Miyei paused. Something was wrong. She raised a hand to her face.

She hadn’t noticed it before, not with how heavy she felt freed from the tides, but there was a strange weight to her head. She ran her hand along her face, her cheeks. There was a strange, smooth ridge of hard bone rising from her cheeks, sweeping up above her ears. There, again, alongside her eyebrows - and from her forehead as well.

Miyei staggered to her feet and turned towards the nearest sailor. In one swift movement she lunged forward and grabbed for the hilt of his blade, unsheathing it fully. He yelped and leaped back, but she only raised the sword and stared into the mirror-bright blade.

Coral. It was coral. It split from beneath her skin and surrounded her face like a portrait frame, or a halo, hanging about her head. It was oddly smooth for coral, and solid, but there was no mistaking that intricate patterning or that dull olive green color.

Miyei stared for a moment longer, then dropped her hand and threw the blade into the wet sand. It stuck point-first and hilt-up, quivering where it landed. “Gather everyone,” she rasped, her voice rough with salt and sand. “Every ship. We empty the strongholds. No one remains in the Islands after three days’ time.”

“What?” said one pirate, staring. “Queen, we can’t -”

“We can,” she interrupted him, a low growl. “Every person here leaves. Do you understand me?”

“Queen,” someone started, and she whirled to face them, her black hair flying around her. Sand sprayed onto the ground. The sailor went quiet.

“Good,” she said. “Let’s go. I need a new ship.”

Miyei looked to the water. It glittered so bright it nearly blinded her, but she swore for a moment she caught sight of a dark-haired head vanishing between one swell-peak and the next.

The Topaz Islands are a sacred place. They are holy by all of the goddesses of the sea, protected by a living fleet that has held its vow for thousands of years. No nation can capture them. No fleet can break through their waters. There is no ship upon the sea that may enter them and live to tell the tale.

The fleet that guards them is eternal, and its captain, they say, has been alive since its founding. They say that instead of blood she has saltwater and kelp-fiber. They say that she speaks the merids’ tongue. They say that if you intrude into the place she has given her soul to protect, that even Kulari’s blessing could not protect you from her retribution.

Her name is Miyei, and she is the queen of nothing, for the sea itself needs no crown.

#Calliope's Tale #ctverse #writing #writeblr #UGH sorry for the mishap #had to EDIT ALL THE DRAFTED WORDS BACK IN #because TUMBLR DELETED THEM

85 notes · View notes

flameraven · 4 years

Text

Good Omens Fic Rec Masterpost - Part Two

Hello hello I have read MANY MORE fics in this fandom now so it’s time to add on to my previous recs. Part One can be found here: https://flameraven.tumblr.com/post/187742832545/good-omens-fic-recs-masterpost General info! No fics rated higher than M, and that’s usually for violence not sex. I headcanon the husbands as being in an asexual relationship, so any fics I rec will have no sex, or only have sexy stuff alluded to or briefly mentioned.

The Soft Zone (TM)

all the days - G / darcylindbergh

War of Attrition- G / out_there / 8k - 3 gifts Crowley gives Aziraphale

A Meddling of Houseplants - T/ wingedspirit / 6k - Ophelia (a peace lily) is tired of Crowley and Aziraphale’s hopeless pining, and takes matters into her own leaves.

Sweetest in the Gale - T / wingedspirit / 3.8k - Gabriel can sense Aziraphale’s love for Crowley, and confronts “Aziraphale” about it before his execution

Deck the Halls - G / forthegreatergood / 18k - two idiots attempt to acquire mistletoe for the holidays in order to convey their feelings for the other.

Tartan Wrapping Paper - G / Arej / 2k - Crowley may not have quite gotten the message about the tartan all those years ago

a prize-winning philodendron - G / Elsajeni / <1k - Crowley does look, and sighs heavily. “Angel,” he says, “of all the plants you could have tried keeping, why did you start with something this fussy?”

Silver and Gold - G / asparkofgoodness / 1.5k - Crowley buys a ring.

Futile Devices - G / ticketybye / 3k - Yes, Crowley has imagined. He has craved. But being in Aziraphale’s close proximity has had to be enough. He’s not even sure he deserves that. But this, this feels like it felt to be commissioned the stars. It feels like being entrusted with something precious and fragile.

The Weight of Words Unspoken - G / rattatatosk / 1.8k - Aziraphale has always hinted to Crowley when he needed to leave. After the Apoca-wasn’t, he asks Crowley to stay.

J’Aime (I Love) - G / yourpaceangel - Crowley is searching for what the ‘J’ means.

the other way round - G / darcylindbergh / <1k - Aziraphale gets hair pets for once.

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too) - G / soft_october / 1.5k - Crowley is trying not to go to fast, ends up stalled out completely. Aziraphale decides he will have to get creative.

In Good Hands - G / Sunjinjo / 14k - Aziraphale was created wearing a golden ring. It’s now the last remaining aspect of his original attire.One day, he tries to take it off. The rest follows naturally. (Marriage Proposal)

One Golden Glance (Of What Should Be) - G / Sunjinjo / 8.5k - Crowley takes up painting after the Apocalypse.

Misfit / Safe Haven - G / Mothfluff / 2k - Aziraphale provides a safe space for the Soho queer community to gather

seasons, changes - G / the_pen_is_mightier / 2k - In the autumn Aziraphale and Crowley go out apple picking.

on the necessity of a temptation - M / darcylindbergh / 4.5k - Crowley squinted at him. He said, slowly, as if sounding around the words [...] “But doing things is what we do. Why would—what would be the point of me being here otherwise?”

In Other Words, Baby, Kiss Me - T / mikkimouse / 4.5k - Five times Aziraphale kissed Crowley and one time Crowley (finally) kissed him back.

It's Getting Hard, This Holding Back - T / ZehWulf / 13k - Crowley decides to lure Aziraphale into Explicit Gestures of Romantic Affection. Aziraphale sets a cuddle trap

give you more to hold on to - T / cryptidkidprem / 4k - Crowley nods. "It's..." He looks down at their joined hands, and takes a long, deep breath. “We’re not— We’re not supposed to need this, y’know?” He lifts their joined hands up, lets them fall again. “You and I. Angels, demons. We're not meant to need all this. This touchy-feely stuff, all this affection, this—” a hitch in his breath— “Love.”

two parallel lines -lineffability

don’t let me wake up - acuteangleaziraphale

how to let go - jlmarch

Mornington Crescent -politeanarcy

Wingfic

Symmetry in Favor - G / kedreeva / 8k - Five times Crowley preens Aziraphale's wings, and one time Aziraphale preens Crowley's.

London Calling - G / forthegreatergood / 30k - Come for Crowley’s ridiculous 1970′s bed, stay for Feelings and extensive wing pets.

Hurt/Comfort

Be Ye Therefore Merciful - T / AmberDiceless / 9.5k - Book!Verse. Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted.

Pigeon Girlfriends with a Long Preamble - T / SleepySelfLoathing / 8k - All Crowley wanted was to spend a nice night in with his husband, so of course he ends up summoned by a bunch of cultists instead. Why would he expect anything different....This would probably be a lot easier to deal with if he wasn't wearing Aziraphale's fluffiest bathrobe.

All Creatures that Have the Breath of Life - G / Elsajeni / 4k - Aziraphale fishes a very sodden Crawly out of the water during the Flood.

Touched by an Angel (And it Bloody Hurts) - G /hedgehog-o-brien / 7k - Aziraphale can’t touch Crowley without burning him.

Douse the Fire, Help Me Breathe - G / Arej / 1.5k - Even demons fear fire, when they've watched their world burn.

In a City Under Aerial Bombardment - G / battle_cat / 3k - After the church and the bomb and the books.

Small Mercies - G / rattatatosk / 4k - Crawly gets smited. Aziraphale lends a hand.

Easier Than Air - G / A_Candle_For_Sherlock / 3.5k - The world hasn't ended, and everything is fine. They're fine. It's terrifying.

attachment - T / artenon / 4.5k - Crowley crosses over to open the passenger door for Aziraphale, and Aziraphale’s attention is drawn to Crowley’s uneven gait, the light, too-quick steps and the rocking back and forth on his heels as he holds the door open and waits for Aziraphale to get in.“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, heart sinking, “your feet.”

Hell Freezes Over - M / charliebrown1234 + Turcote / 18k - The year is 2002, and Crowley and Aziraphale are sent to Alaska to investigate a decommissioned entrance to Hell. What could possibly go wrong?

Better The Demon You Know - T / mikkimouse / 1.2k - When Crawly falls out of the sky and into the flood, he gets help from a very unexpected source.

Gently, gently - G / the_pen_is_mightier / 3k - Heaven is cold and lonely. Hell is filthy and crowded. Aziraphale badly needs to be touched; Crowley needs fresh air, and light, and space. They can’t seem to connect on days after they’ve returned from their respective head offices.

Of Firsts and Foremosts - T / kedreeva / 6k - Aziraphale is left vulnerable and injured as his first molt approaches. Crawly comes to the rescue for the first time.

The Brazen Serpent - T / ImprobableDreams900 / 11k - Some other angels come to help Aziraphale at the end of the Isrealites’ 40-year exile in the wilderness, unfortunately for Crawley.

hold my hand tight (we'll make it another night) - G / cryptidkidprem / 3k - The night at Crowley’s flat. He’s having a hard time not panicking.

Harbours of My Own - T / wingedspirit / 30k - Crowley knows that, as a demon, his freedom is limited. He doesn't get to have a home; he doesn't get to love. Aziraphale would very much like to change that, but he, too, is limited in what he can do. It takes the better part of six thousand years, but they'll get there.

crack me open, feel me shatter - T / rattatatosk / 2.5k - Crowley dreams of the Fall. Aziraphale is there to catch him when he wakes.

Angst (w/a Happy Ending)

Where His Angel Dares to Tread - M / PinkPenguinParade / 16k - Crowley is taken by Hell. Aziraphale disguises himself as best he can for the rescue mission. Newt and Anathema help.

Remembrance of Things Past - T / Fyre / 18k - Hell takes Crowley’s memories all the way back to Eden as punishment for his crimes.

Drunk Theology - G / battle_cat / 3k - Aziraphale had been hoping tonight for Giggly Drunk Crowley, which was his favorite drunk Crowley. That didn’t seem to be how things were working out, though.

Like a River Flows - T / kedreeva / 15k - Five times Crowley was not allowed to love Aziraphale, and one time he succeeded.

The Cultivation of New Growth - T / Vitreous_humor / 3k - “I mean,” he said carefully, “if you want a plant, let me give you one of the snake plants or maybe the big coleus. They'd be good for the shop, pretty stalwart in the dark...You don't want this one, it's rotten.” “Actually,” Aziraphale said firmly, “I do want that one.”

The Holy Essence of Experience - T / Dragonsquill / 4k - They know how they feel, but giving it a name would be too dangerous. Ineffable husbands from the beginning to the end of the world, aware and wanting.

AUs/Crossovers

be mine tonight (be mine forever) - T / artenon / 11k - Human!AU. When Aziraphale finds out his coworkers have made a bet that he won’t bring anyone to the company party, he asks his best friend Crowley to go as his date just to spite them. Things quickly spiral out of control.

Siren’s Song - T / kedreeva / 30k+ (WIP) - Siren!AU. Crowley, a lone siren, calls a ship to wreck upon his reef, but finds when he meets pirate captain Aziraphale that sirens are not the only ones able to lure another creature to their heart's desire.

Adopt Don’t Shop - G / lucky_spike / 6k - Cat!AU based on Chekov’s “Good Meowmons” comics.

The Ones Who Walk Away From Nevaeh - T / soft_october / 15k - AU based on “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”

The Grinch Who Sold Christmas - T / darcylindbergh / 60k - Human AU / Hallmark Movie AU. Crowley is a big city lawyer sent to seal the deal that will destroy the quaint town of Tadfield forever, right before Christmas... and then he falls in love with the town, and a certain bookshop owner. Ridiculously sappy fluff that hits all the right notes.

The Odd One Out T / RainyDayDecaf / 2k- A meeting of many different Crowleys and Aziraphales.

Beat Again - T / TeaCub90 / 7k - Human AU. Two neighbours keep each other and their respective conditions company in the dead of night

Outsider POV

Ophidiophobia - G / lyricwritesprose / 7.6k - Pepper is afraid of snakes. When this is abruptly revealed in an encounter with Crowley’s serpent form, she immediately goes about trying to cure herself of it.

What’s in a Name? - G / lyricwritesprose / 4k - “You do realize,” Brother Francis said, “that Warlock is just your name, not some sort of, of directive?”

Damaged - G / lyricwritesprose / 6k - Aziraphale is struggling after the Apocalypse. Madam Tracy offers some advice. (Very good spooky/nonhuman Aziraphale in this one.)

Angel’s Favor - T/ PinkPenguinParade / 10k - A hundred years ago, Aziraphale gave one of his feathers to a woman who helped him. In the modern day, her descendant calls in the favor.

Protective Camouflage - G/ politeanarcy/ 2.3k - The Antichrist isn’t the only one with defenses against being noticed.

Disposable - T / lyricwritesprose / 7k - Eric the Disposable Demon attempts to become Crowley’s vassal after the Apoca-wasn’t. Nothing goes the way they expect after that.

on deceiving appearances - G / asideofourown / 2k - The Disposable Demon realizes the truth of Crowley’s deception in Heaven.

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost - G / TheOldAquarian / 3k - What are you supposed to do when you've been fired from your sweet job in Hell for thwarting the schemes of Satan, you've got a swanky flat in Mayfair, and you're looking for an excuse to spend all your time in someone else's bookshop? Obviously, you turn to the dubious world of short-term vacation rentals.

Other

the best laid schemes - T / asideofourown / 4k - How Crowley got his Rat Army

Incongruous States of Being - T / ZehWulf / 8k - “Who would win: Aziraphale or Crowley.” “Oh!” Aziraphale startles. “Well—such a question. It’s not as though either of us has engaged in so much as fisticuffs in ages, and one does need to keep up practice with these sorts of things.” His fretting dies abruptly when Crowley cuts over him clearly, baldly: “Aziraphale.”

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition - T / WoodsWitch / 12k - The Arrangement is 500 years old, and Crowley and Aziraphale have been having a fine time in Renaissance Florence. Things start to go a bit pear-shaped with the arrival of a Friar Savonarola, so Crowley suggests that they meet up in his favorite refuge from the rest of medieval Europe: Spain. ((Don’t let the title fool you, this is an incredibly in-depth and well-researched historical fic and deserves way more hits than it has.))

#fic recs #good omens fanfic #good omens fic recs #fanfiction

271 notes · View notes

komahinasecretexchange · 4 years

Text

Title: School Unity Club

Author: @thatsrightdollface

For: @bebexox4

Pairings/Characters: Hajime Hinata/Nagito Komaeda, with appearances by both Chiaki Nanami and Kokichi Oma. Others mentioned.

Rating/Warnings: T. Some mention of self-deprecating thought might be a relevant warning. There is also occasional swearing.

Prompt: Non despair hopes peak au with Enemies-Friends-Lovers komahina

Author’s notes: Hi there!!! Happy Komahina Secret Exchange, and I hope you enjoy your gifts!!! :D This is prompt one of two you can expect this time around. This was really fun to work on hehehe. Thank you!!!

1. Okay, Why Are We Starting a School Unity Club Again?

The first time Hope’s Peak Academy tried to recruit Nagito Komaeda, of course he turned them down: he was unworthy, he insisted, trying to laugh at himself, trying to raise his metaphorical palms in obvious surrender. I mean, come on. Hope’s Peak… haha, that was for genuinely amazing people. For the Ultimate Students, glimmering irrefutable beacons of hope to everybody else. They were — no. Nagito couldn’t go to school with people like that. Practically superheroes, so hardworking and disciplined and just everything Nagito knew he didn’t deserve to be. What would he even say? How would he know where to sit, or when to participate in class discussions, or how to tactfully say no when they felt obligated to invite him along places?

But, in the end, Hope’s Peak Academy hadn’t so much wanted Nagito as a student, he gathered, as they’d wanted to study his luck. Nagito’d always had unreasonable, relentless, mythically impossible luck. Amazing things happened to him, and then… like clockwork, like the gears of the universe churning away… equally devastating things inevitably followed. The Ultimate Lucky Student. That’s right. After years of fallen-apart loved ones and distant extended family members and snakes slithering out of his bathtub drain the second he realized “You know, I think this might be my favorite brand of shampoo,” Nagito Komaeda’s absurd luck was finally going to help somebody. Hope’s Peak could learn from his luck, and that was worth humiliating himself daily, stumbling around Ultimate Students, rambling and awestruck. That was worth knowing he’d never belong, because he hadn’t worked for his Talent. It wasn’t really a Talent at all.

When Nagito was happy, he knew he was sure to feel tears burning against the back of his eyes very soon. He was happy about the chance to attend Hope’s Peak, despite everything, despite knowing he should have turned the invitation down again, whether his luck could be useful or no… and so, of course, bad things followed. Bad things he hadn’t talked to his classmates about, yet, and probably never would. Because it wasn’t like Nagito had come to such a prestigious institution expecting anybody to actually care about him. It wasn’t like he would have clawed his way in without being invited. Right?

Nagito liked to think that was right, anyway, just the way he liked to think he didn’t actually want any of his fancy, impossible new classmates to contradict him when he described himself as worthless, a faceless background character in their lives. Why should they tell him he was more than a bystander? Nagito would hold the camera when his classmates wanted a group photo. That should be more than enough. If he wanted to get something done for their sake, he could lean on his Ultimate Luck. If he drew a lottery number, it would always win. If a car was careening out of control through the school grounds, it would be sure to hit him before it clobbered anyone else. A weird system — a horrible system, from some points of view — but it was the least Nagito could do. It was his so-called “Talent,” after all.

Maybe that was why the Reserve Course had never made a lot of sense, to Nagito. See, some people could pay a hell of a lot of extra tuition money and buy their way into Hope’s Peak… but not as Ultimates. It felt like a flashlight demanding to be called the sun, to Nagito. Like a puddle on the street insisting it was the ocean. If Ultimates really were “hope,” then how dare anybody scramble around to grab their spotlight away, right? Reserve Course attendants would probably be easier to get along with than the Ultimate Students, given that Nagito was more or less “one of them”… a nobody, a stranger, an intruder here in this place for gods. But he didn’t go looking for friends among the Reserve Course, either. Why should he want to be buddy-buddy with arrogant pretenders? It wasn’t like Nagito had ever felt especially good at talking to people, anyway. He’d probably say something wrong; he’d probably mess something up; he’d probably just get furious. Wouldn’t you want to turn off the flashlight that thought it was the sun?

Better not to delude yourself, even if the truth was ugly, full of shaky, simpering smiles and resignation. Happiness led to pain. Good luck led to misery. On and on and on, and Nagito had been fairly sure he’d graduate from Hope’s Peak without any of his classmates having memorized his full name. You know, if he lived that long.

That’s why it was all the more surprising when Chiaki Nanami… the Ultimate Gamer… kept insisting on talking to him. Of course, Chiaki was kind to their whole class. She had no reason to sit silently and play phone games with Nagito until his phone caught fire in his hands — she had no reason to chat about his favorite super-indie horror titles during breaks in schoolwork, coming over to stand by his desk on purpose. Chiaki wanted to understand everybody: she told Nagito as much, honestly. Chiaki wanted their whole class to be a team, and so when she asked Nagito to show up for movie nights he did. He knew he’d suffer the bad luck for it later, but he picked up the phone when Chiaki called him every time.

If she wanted to be friends with everyone, Chiaki shouldn’t have to work for the Ultimate Lucky Student’s friendship, obviously. He should be a shoe-in. And it wasn’t really that Nagito was having fun that kept him sticking around, probably. It wasn’t really that he was starting to banter with the Ultimate Mechanic and the Ultimate Gangster, as if they were actually… uh… friendly acquaintances, or something, either. Chiaki told him he was reliable, even if he still wouldn’t admit he belonged with the rest of them. Even if he said hurtful things sometimes and didn’t seem to realize it.

“What?!” Nagito had balked, then. “Have I insulted you? Oh, no. No, that’s unacceptable. For someone like me to speak badly of an Ultimate Student, even without meaning to —”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Chiaki had answered. She reminded Nagito of a cat, pretty consistently… heavy-lidded eyes, and a voice like a tail swishing slowly back and forth. She didn’t look up from the game system in her hands as she drawled at him. “You say horrible things about yourself, and about how you can’t understand why I’d want anything to do with you… makes me feel like you don’t think I can pick my own friends. I say I think you’re okay, and you spend the next half an hour telling me why that’s a stupid thing to think. Kazuichi says he’s glad you stopped by to help him work on that robot project he’s building, and you have to make him apologize for thinking ‘trash like you’ deserves to hang out with the Ultimate Mechanic at all.”

Nagito wasn’t sure how to respond to any of that. He’d cleared his throat.

“Your friends will hurt when they see you hurt, Nagito. I always heard people in games saying that, and now I know it’s true. Okay?”

“Hm. Okay… if you’re sure, as an Ultimate Student.”

“I’m sure as your friend Chiaki.”

“Interesting. I mean… yeah, I’ll do my best not to hurt you?”

Nagito had been watching the way he talked about himself around Chiaki Nanami for about a week before she came to him with a plan she’d been working on with the Ultimate Supreme Leader. Kokichi Oma was a couple years behind them, but he was always scheming like the “Spawn of Loki” the Ultimate Animal Breeder declared him to be — his latest plan involved trying to unite the two branches of their school, the Main Course and the Reserve Course, coming together for some sort of mysterious club. Chiaki was all for it, apparently, and Nagito had wanted to say a lot of things. He’d wanted to say it sounded like reassuring the puddle that ships could drown in it after all, and coral reefs were sure to grow. It felt false, and wrong. But a lot of things Kokichi Oma said felt “false and wrong,” and Nagito wanted to be Chiaki’s real, worthy friend so badly. He agreed to help, however he could.

“It’s so generous of the Ultimates to share their Talents with everybody!” Nagito said. That was a fair enough rationalization, wasn’t it? “You really are a commendable person, Ultimate Supreme Leader. Even if practically everything you say is a shameless lie!”

And, “Hey now, most of my nefarious criminal organization members wouldn’t be called ‘Ultimate,’ and they’ve got more talents to share around than this whole stuck-up school,” Kokichi answered, voice light and airy, like he wasn’t actually invested in the conversation… though his eyes said he really was, unless that expression was just another lie from him? Lies upon lies upon lies. People told Nagito he was confusing to talk to, but surely he couldn’t have anything on Kokichi Oma. Was that okay for him to think? “A lot of these titles we got assigned feel pretty arbitrary, if you ask me. And it’s ridiculous we’ve never actually met so many of our classmates!”

Nagito raised his eyebrows. “Classmates?”

Kokichi stared him down, smile practically painted on. “Classmates. Yeah. Just think of how many possible recruits for my organization might be waiting in the Reserve Course… ya think any of ‘em are interested in a life of evil?”

“Most of the people who made the games we play aren’t Ultimates, either,” Chiaki murmured, at Kokichi’s side. She was muted and dusky pink, with a tender, hesitant smile — Kokichi was so glaringly bright and loud next to her. They made a strange team, but of course no stranger than Nagito and anyone in the world. “Please, Nagito. The School Unity Club is going to try and form real friendships… I think it’s a chance for us to do something good, and to learn what it’s like to be in the Reserve Course.“

As if Nagito wanted to understand something like that! Haha! Oh, Chiaki. No.

But that’s what led Nagito here, to the first official School Unity Club meeting. He filled out the Getting to Know Everybody Questionnaire Kokichi and Chiaki passed out, and he hung around in the back of the room, hands folded in his pockets, face perfectly neutral, until a spiky haired Reserve Course guy came storming up to him. What could have possibly gotten this uppity loser so mad? Chiaki had decorated this classroom herself, specifically for trash like the both of them. They should be so grateful. There were streamers and everything.

“Are you Nagito Komaeda?” Mr. Pointy-Hair spat.

“I am. Nice to meet —”

“So you’re the one who wrote that people who joined the Reserve Course have ‘no good reason to be here’ on the questionnaire. Knowing we’d all read it — knowing how much we want to attend Hope’s Peak Academy —”

Nagito nodded, letting himself smile. Ah, okay. This was making a little sense now. “Excuse me, I think you misunderstand something,” he tried to clarify. “I don’t believe I have a good reason to be here, either… really, we’re almost the same, you and me. I probably have more to say to someone like you than my whole class!” Nagito paused. Glanced over at the Ultimate Gamer. “Except for Chiaki. Maybe. If she still thinks so.”

Mr. Pointy-Hair didn’t look reassured by Nagito’s explanation. If anything, his cheeks were flushed red, the fury creeping up to the tips of his ears, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He was a little shorter than Nagito, but he was standing as tall as he possibly could. “Someone like me?” he asked. It was a question, somehow, but what exactly did he expect Nagito to say? Mr. Pointy-Hair’s teeth were ground together, but there was something honest and wholesome about his mossy green eyes. Nagito might have wanted to ask his name, if he didn’t feel sure he was about to get yelled at. Why weren’t they understanding each other, exactly, here?

“You’re not an Ultimate,” Nagito said, explaining something painfully simple. “This is a school for extraordinary people, and you and I are both unworthy of it. You see? But that shouldn’t be news to you…”

Mr. Pointy-Hair was spitting mad. Was he going to punch Nagito, next? Or simply tell him how awful he was? Nagito was bracing himself either way, but he shouldn’t have bothered. That was when Kokichi Oma’s spotlight found them, after all. That was when the Ultimate Supreme Leader — sauntering around on a stage made of pushed-together desks and using a super-chipper ringmaster voice — declared, “Oh! And what’s this? Mr. Komaeda and Mr. Hinata are already picking a fight! I think we just found some volunteers for a club project, guys!”

There was a scattering of polite, confused applause, and this Mr. Pointy-Hair Hinata spun around on his heel and threw himself out of the room. The door slammed, and his footsteps thudded away down the hall.

Nagito took a stumbling half-step after him. He didn’t mean to. This was the sort of pretender who thought he deserved to be an Ultimate without earning it, after all. There was no reason to wonder what their club project would be together, or if he’d ever learn Hinata’s first name. There was no reason to ask what the Ultimate Supreme Leader had in store for them to work on — there was probably no reason to assume he and Hinata would ever see each other again, or get another chance to try and have an actual conversation.

Nagito asked Kokichi what their assignment was, anyway.

1½. Talking to You’s Like Trying to Paint in the Rain

Hajime Hinata figured if he just never attended a School Unity Club meeting again, he could simmer for a while and then amble on like this never happened. Like he’d never met Nagito Komaeda, with his hazy dark eyes and drifting, shaky-yet-infuriatingly-resolute voice. If he never joined up with the club again, then he couldn’t be assigned any weird-ass “club projects,” could he? And since Nagito was part of the Main Course… an Ultimate, even if he’d tried to convince Hajime they were “the same,” or whatever… their paths wouldn’t necessarily cross, otherwise. They even had passing periods at different times, and if Hajime saw Nagito’s fluffy, flyaway white hair from across the hallway he just stopped in his tracks and stalked away.

But, I mean… that isn’t the end of the story, obviously. Hajime underestimated the Ultimate Supreme Leader, and also how ridiculous things could get at Hope’s Peak Academy. Sometimes, the place barely even felt real.

Hajime received the instructions for his and Nagito Komaeda’s club project midway through math class. The guy in front of him — who he’d known the whole year, mind you, and was definitely just some guy who liked comic books and was often a little late to class — turned around in his seat and stage-whispered, “Hey, Hinata, you wouldn’t happen to know the answer to question thirteen, would you?”

“There is no question thirteen,” Hajime answered. “The worksheet only goes to ten —” and then he actually looked up, to raise his eyebrows at his classmate and/or see if they had different worksheets for some reason. And well. Hm. Wouldn’t you know it, this wasn’t his classmate at all. This was very obviously Kokichi Oma from the Main Course in a wig. The Ultimate Supreme Leader was wearing a Reserve Course uniform with the tie knotted all sloppily, and he grinned like the damn Cheshire Cat as he handed over a big envelope with the words “This is not your School Unity Club project assignment!” scribbled on it.

“Oh! Nice eye,” Kokichi grinned. “Aren’t you a smart one.”

“I don’t want to work with Nagito Komaeda,” Hajime hissed. “And Kokichi, this isn’t your class.”

“Are you sure I’m not enrolled in the Reserve Course, too?”

“Ugh. Yes? And you’re two years behind me.”

Kokichi scratched at his forehead. Hajime thought maybe he was taunting him, intentionally fiddling with his wig so that a little of his flippy purple hair snuck out. “Nagito’s stubborn, isn’t he? Kind of like you.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Hajime said, but even as he spat those words he knew they weren’t completely true. Honestly, Hajime felt sick with guilt for getting his family to pay this ridiculous Hope’s Peak Reserve Course tuition — he’d tried to change his own mind, convincing himself it didn’t matter whether the world called him Special. The Ultimate Students were just people, he told himself. So what if nobody thought he was good enough to be one of them? He could still live a happy, normal life… he could still pour attention into the hobbies he loved, and spend time with the people he cared about, and maybe it was kind of a pain to have your face on convenience store magazines anyway.

Hajime told himself stuff like that over and over again, but it wasn’t like it stuck, you know? It didn’t change the tide of his thoughts. It felt like the minute he painted a nice, encouraging picture of an alternative to Hope’s Peak Academy for himself, it got washed away. Staring into Nagito’s serene, self-righteously knowing eyes had felt a little like that, too. Hajime got the feeling that he could talk to him and talk to him, but it was almost impossible to change this guy’s mind until he changed it himself.

It was infuriating, wasn’t it, talking to people like that?

“If you want to prove you’re really different than Nagito — you’re really not super-stubborn and impossible to reach — you can always just do the project,” the Ultimate Supreme Leader grinned. “Up to you. I told him to meet you by those big fountains after school, and I think he’s actually gonna do it. He asked what your first name was, too… I told him it was ‘Daisuke.’”

“But it isn’t.”

“Oops, my bad. So tell him yourself.”

Hajime read the crayon-drawing assignment sheets waiting for him in that envelope during a break, sitting slumped over at a table with a bunch of students he didn’t really know. Apparently, Kokichi and the Ultimate Gamer wanted Hajime and Nagito to make a short documentary film showing everybody what life was like in the Hope’s Peak Reserve Course. They were supposed to interview students and get some funny stories; they were supposed to go over some of the things people were studying, and rate whether the desks were comfy. Just… get a portrait of the Reserve Course as people, basically, the instructions said. And be sure to let the Ultimate Supreme Leader know if anyone seemed open to helping with this prank he had in the works. Get them to sign a short, totally-harmless liability form. It’ll be fun.

Hajime crumpled the envelope and all its assignment sheets up, one by one, preparing to toss them away with the rest of his trash. But then he unfolded them, running a hand through his sticky-uppy hair.

You know what?

Why not.

Maybe it would do Nagito Komaeda some good, to get to know the people he was insulting. To see the school from a different point of view. Maybe it would be satisfying to see him feel like a jerk, fumbling around, trying oh-so-messily to explain himself to anybody a little less forgiving than Hajime. Anyway, it was sort of annoying the guy thought his name was something random Kokichi Oma had pulled out of a hat, too.

So Hajime went to meet Nagito by the fountains. For a moment, before they actually started working on the project, it had felt sort of right. Nagito had stood up from where he’d been bent over some homework; he’d smoothed down his vest, and smiled awkwardly, self-consciously. Hopefully. It had looked like maybe he would apologize. Maybe he’d thought over what he said, and Hajime didn’t need to spend any time convincing him he was an asshole. In that case, maybe Nagito was the kind of willowy handsome that Hajime liked in drama actors, if you got past the funny way he held himself. In that case, maybe his voice was sort of soft and lyrical, and if they were talking about something else… almost anything else… Hajime wouldn’t really mind listening to him.

But then, uh. Hajime got close enough for Nagito to wave, and call, “Do you understand what I meant, now, then? It’s nice to meet you properly, Daisuke!” And it only went downhill from there.

It didn’t help that the minute Hajime handed Nagito the school-owned camera Kokichi had finagled for them to use, it got carried out of his hands by an actual hawk. What the hell? “Ultimate Luck,” Nagito clarified, but what did that even mean? So then they were gonna record the thing on Hajime’s phone, except that they couldn’t decide where to start. Who to talk to. They got into a half-shouting match in front of a few of Hajime’s friendlier classmates, who excused themselves as quickly as possible. They tried to film the gymnasium, but it was closed for emergency fumigation and they ended up gagging, hunched over outside the doors for about five minutes. They tried to film in the dorms, but Hajime’s entrance pass cracked in two when they attempted to use it. Those were expensive! Augh! Why was Nagito laughing?!

Whatever Hajime tried to do, it felt like Nagito came sliding over to step on his toes. They were getting nowhere. This project was getting nowhere. They had to delete the one decent interview they managed to get because Hajime himself accidentally had his thumb over the camera. He had literally no idea how he could’ve missed something like that.

“Ultimate Luck,” Nagito said, again, for about the millionth time that evening. “See? It’s really not always much of a talent!”

That was the last straw. Hajime was done. Nagito was still obsessed with this concept of “talent”; Nagito was the last person who should be making a video trying to show what life was really like for Reserve Course students. The Ultimate Supreme Leader was probably just messing with them, just being a little shit like people said he tended to be. School Unity? What could Nagito Komaeda do to work towards School Unity? He was probably the sort of person who would want to trap a lizard that thought it was a dragon, just to show the poor little guy how small he really was. Hajime didn’t have time for this.

And so he told Nagito as much, and he gathered up his things. He deleted all the footage they’d recorded for their project, and went back home. That could’ve been the end of it. If Kokichi turned up in any of his classes again, Hajime would just tune him out. If the Ultimate Gamer asked him why he didn’t come around anymore, yeah, okay, he’d apologize, but that was it.

Hajime didn’t hear anything from the School Unity Club for about a month. “Good riddance,” he thought. He imagined himself slamming a book closed. And then possibly kicking said book under the bed, or something.

When he got a text from Kokichi Oma — wait, how had the Ultimate Supreme Leader gotten his phone number?! — Hajime almost didn’t open it. But morbid curiosity won out in the end, as it so often did. Morbid curiosity, and that claustrophobic, helplessly-stricken pull to the Ultimate Students Hajime still felt, even now. He had wanted to be valuable, to be seen; he had wanted to be a revelation. Every breath he took on this earth could have been game-changing, if only he’d been born someone else.

“Nice work on your video,” Kokichi said. “Turned out really insightful. I think it’ll help the Reserve Course students feel seen, too.”

Alright. Hold on.

What?

***

2. The Light

When Nagito Komaeda asked the Ultimate Supreme Leader whether it had been difficult, convincing Hajime to come watch his documentary about the Hope’s Peak Academy Reserve Course together, Kokichi said, “You just better not mess this up, kid,” with a big, sloppy wink. Nevermind that he really hadn’t answered the question, actually, when Nagito thought back on it – nevermind that Kokichi was… again… younger than him. Maybe it meant Hajime had struggled against the idea of ever actually talking to Nagito again, and Kokichi’d had to bribe him with glittery promises like, “If you give the video a chance, I’ll delete your phone number from my contacts list!” Or maybe it meant Nagito should feel lucky – lucky in a good way, mind you – because Hajime hadn’t needed a lot of nagging at all. Maybe Mr. Pointy-Hair was genuinely curious. Maybe he’d be willing to forgive how badly things had gone, and try, Nagito didn’t know, “hanging out” again, sometime.

“Why did you lie about Hajime’s name, to me?” Nagito asked. “I looked… inconsiderate.”

“Who knows?” Kokichi said. “I do stuff like that, you know.”

It would’ve been way too easy, if Kokichi Oma had been willing to answer a simple question for once. But all the same, Nagito ended up sitting alone in a dark, lonely classroom after club activities were over for the night; all the same, Nagito had finished up the Reserve Course documentary film on his own. He’d purchased four separate video cameras, and lost them all to his ruthless luck. He’d interviewed people from Hajime’s classes, asking the questions Hajime had scrawled out on the back of Kokichi’s crumpled-up assignment envelope that time they tried working together. “What brought you to the Reserve Course?” “What’s your most precious goal, and how do you hope the Reserve Course will help you get there?” “Do you like going to school here?” “What do you think Hope’s Peak could do differently, to show that it values all its students?” Some of the answers he’d gotten were genuinely shocking – one of them made him cry, actually, and try to shake the girl’s hand afterwards. (She took his hand, yes, but then asked why there was so much mud on it. Oh, crap. Nagito’d forgotten that happened… he’d been swallowed up by a surprise swamp on the way across campus that day.) All of the answers were… human? Maybe sometimes it was easy to get so wrapped up in this business of hope and despair, talent and luck, that Nagito forgot how learning a person’s abilities just barely scraped the surface of what it would be like getting to know them. He didn’t talk much at all, giving his interviews – aside from asking questions, of course. He laughed at jokes, sometimes, but he tried to laugh quietly, without wobbling the camera too much.

Nagito had expected the interviews would enrage him – would make him think these people were ungrateful, were building themselves homemade trophies to take away from the Ultimate Talents the Main Course actually earned. And sometimes, yeah, sometimes he did want to argue back. Put them in their places, back in the dirt with him; click off the flashlight that thought it was the sun. But he listened, for a while, anyway. Maybe it was because Hajime would’ve wanted him to, at first – maybe it was because Hajime might have said he couldn’t do it. But in the end, Nagito found himself with a lot of footage of people telling him their truths, and so many of those stories tasted familiar. That longing, that hurt, that want, that hunger. It had been written all over Hajime’s face when they first met, but Nagito’d never asked his story, had he?

Ah, well. Nagito had tried making the documentary into something Hajime wouldn’t hate, you know? He’d gone to one of the Reserve Course’s basketball games and recorded the crowds cheering, recorded the players’ teamwork and struggle. None of the players were the Ultimate Basketball Star or anything, but it still mattered when they won, didn’t it? Maybe not as much, existentially, or for the hope of the world as Nagito understood it, but – but it could still be emotional watching them come together and ruffle each other’s hair, afterwards, reminiscing about the game. Nagito had attempted to go to a Reserve Course swimming team competition too, but of course the pool flooded the second he stepped in the building… and like, really flooded, in that most of the bleachers were still underwater and they hadn’t been able to drain the dressing rooms, yet. Some sort of weird, constant flow in from ocean?! Nagito wasn’t sure on the specifics. Point being, he’d stopped attending sports events for a while, but he had asked Chiaki to record the Reserve Course’s musical production of Les Misérables so he could splice some of it into the documentary.

Nagito didn’t ask specific questions about Hajime Hinata while conducting his interviews, but he’d heard some stuff about him all the same. He was a good classmate, people said – a hard worker, soft-spoken, but he didn’t just sit back and take kindly to bullies. He was smart, but his handwriting was terrible, and he and Nagito seemed to like the same type of video games. Hajime’s classmates mentioned him in passing, see, discussing him among themselves… or they said, “Oh, no, Nagito’s probably okay. He was with Hajime a couple days ago, remember? Hey, Nagito, are you two friends?”

Um.

In that moment, Nagito had wanted very badly to say yes, yes they were friends. He would’ve been proud to have Hajime like him, as a person, the way Chiaki seemed to. But he just sort of smiled and shook his head. “We were working on a project together,” he offered. “School Unity Club.” It was probably fair to leave it at that, right?

But now the documentary was finished, and Hajime had been persuaded… somehow… to come to some empty classroom after School Unity Club let out and watch it at Nagito’s side. Nagito hadn’t really felt like he should be going to School Unity Club meetings lately: it was surreal to be back here again, inviting Hajime into the ruins of a game tournament. There was a scribbly, multi-color scoreboard, and bits of the floor were duct-taped off into what looked like a beanbag chair/slime vat obstacle course. The janitors at Hope’s Peak must have hated Kokichi Oma. Or who knows, really? Maybe he was planning to slink back in and clean all this up himself, after Nagito and Hajime finished with their video. Nagito showed Hajime over to some chairs he’d set up in front of his cracked-apart personal laptop. He pulled out Hajime’s chair a little bit, like they were someplace fancy, and Hajime scoffed. He sat down, though. And then he gestured to Nagito’s chair, like, “Well?”

They watched the documentary in silence. Sometimes Hajime shifted, or scratched at his neck. Sometimes he gasped, or shot Nagito careful, considering eyes. Nagito… for his part… tried his best to keep his expression neutral, the same as he’d done at that first School Unity Club meeting. The last interview was with himself, after all, and he thought he’d made his own points pretty clear. He didn’t understand what the Reserve Course meant, in connection to the Main Course here at Hope’s Peak Academy… on one hand he still thought it defied the point of the whole place, but on the other it was a class full of creativity and excitement and hope for the future, too. He’d learned a lot from the Reserve Course students, and it had been fun spending time with them. The interview questions had been written by Hajime Hinata, but they’d honestly become Nagito’s questions too, by the end. He thanked the viewer for watching, and the interviewees for talking to him, and the swimming team for their forgiveness when he tried to explain that it was his weird luck that ruined their tournament.

It wasn’t perfect. Nagito stumbled over his words, sometimes, and he contradicted himself, and he went on a short monologue about how it was possible hope came in innumerable different forms. He hinted at one of his most embarrassing thoughts, too – that maybe… just maybe, possibly, against all odds… it might’ve been more merciful to have a world without the worship of talent, a world where all people could just live as themselves and know that was enough. He had almost edited that part out. In another life, he probably wouldn’t have wanted anyone in the world to hear it. It flew in the face of everything he was supposed to honor, after all. It was skeptical of the very concept of the Ultimate Talents themselves.

Nagito might not have been able to explain exactly why he kept that part of his own interview in the documentary. Maybe he wanted Hajime to get him, if they ever spoke again. Maybe so many strangers had been utterly, vulnerably honest with him, he felt like it was sort of his turn. Either way, he winced, taking in the frustrated surrender on his own recorded face. He kept his arms folded over his chest and gritted his teeth. Hajime was watching him imagine a world where all that mattered was the light, whether it came from a flashlight or the sun. For all Nagito knew, he sounded ridiculous.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be,” Hajime said, slowly, after the credits rolled – Chiaki was thanked for most things Nagito hadn’t attributed to either himself or the conspicuously-absent Hajime Hinata. “Thanks, Nagito. You… are you going to the next club meeting?”

“What? Am I…?”

“I mean the School Unity Club. If you go to the next meeting, I’ll come too.”

Nagito swallowed, fidgeting. He brushed a little messy white hair behind his ear. “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.” He decided to push his luck, just a little, then, seeing Hajime smile: he decided to try and make this raw, beautiful person that hated him laugh. “Maybe Kokichi’ll stop pestering me if I finally participate.”

Hajime snorted. He relaxed, just the littlest bit, and Nagito felt his insides twist. That was an unfamiliar feeling.

“Probably not,” Hajime said.

“No… probably not.”

That couldn’t have been part of the Ultimate Supreme Leader’s secret conniving plan, though, right? To get them to bond over mutual frustration… to pester them both until they started commiserating about it…

Right?

But then, maybe Nagito shouldn’t put it past him. Kokichi’d earned his Ultimate Student-status somehow. Maybe he and Chiaki hadn’t been completely wrong about a School Unity Club, either.

Well, now… they’d just played right into the Ultimate Supreme Leader’s hands, hadn’t they?

That didn’t matter too much, somehow, when Hajime was taking Nagito out to arcades with his other friends, and on hikes in the forest, and to read quietly on a bench in the park. Sun on their skin, wind in their hair, ruffling the pages of their books just the littlest bit… or else grabbing Nagito’s book away and hurtling it out horrifyingly fast into oncoming traffic. Or maybe it was the first book Hajime got him as a gift that would get stolen by a randomly-appearing hawk, this time? At least now Hajime knew Nagito usually laughed that desperate, rattling sort of cackle when he was upset. Nervous. Panicking. At least now Hajime would rub his back, a little, and tell him they were fine. Hey, hey. Nagito, look at me. Your luck isn’t your fault. Just breathe.

Breathe.

No, falling for the Ultimate Supreme Leader’s machinations barely mattered at all, this time.

2 ½. So Glad I was Wrong About You

The first time Hajime Hinata kissed Nagito Komaeda, he hadn’t been expecting to do it, himself, if you’d asked him just five minutes before. They were doing homework together, and the year was almost over – Nagito had asked Hajime to come to the Main Course Graduation Ball with him, as friends, of course, and high school was winding down to an end for both of them. Hajime had just worked weekend shifts at a thrift store to buy himself a set of four-leaf clover cufflinks to wear with his suit, small and gold and hopefully not the sort of thing Nagito would think was tacky. They were… Hajime hadn’t known what they were, exactly, until he found himself watching the way Nagito talked with his hands, staring off into the distance, swept away in what they were discussing. He remembered something their mutual friend Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer, had said a few weeks before:

“I don’t think Nagito’s gonna ask you to go to the ball as his date-date. But if he does, be nice.”

Hajime hadn’t pressed Chiaki on that, for some reason. He’d been a little distracted by how she was completely annihilating him in the game they were playing. Why hadn’t he… dammit, why hadn’t he really heard her, then? If Nagito asked him out, like… as a boyfriend… Hajime was supposed to treat him gently. Maybe Chiaki thought Hajime would’ve wanted to say no, to an invitation like that? It was hard to say. Her expression had been all dusty lavender, vague and soft, watching her character defeat Hajime’s so, so mercilessly. The game had been reflected in her eyes, neon and flickering and fast.

But maybe… maybe what Chiaki said had meant more than just some run-of-the-mill politeness advice. It could have meant Nagito’d told Chiaki he was interested in taking Hajime as his date-date, but had backed away squirming from the idea because he was still getting over the concept that he was somehow fundamentally broken. Maybe he didn’t realize Hajime had bought those four-leaf clover cufflinks like a promise, because he didn’t want this Graduation Ball to be the last chance he got to wear them. To be fair, Hajime had only just realized that, himself. Who else was he gonna wear four-leaf clovers for, if not the Ultimate Lucky Student? He’d gotten to know Nagito’s luck extremely well, over the last year together; he knew which scars he tended to keep hidden, because he hated explaining their backstories, and he had watched Nagito’s closing monologue from that Reserve Course documentary over and over in the dead of night. Trying to understand it. Trying to understand this impossible, contrary guy who had just helped him edit his last Japanese Literature essay of the semester.

Hajime had kept telling himself he was done with Nagito Komaeda – for weeks, he’d told himself that. It felt like such a waste, now. They were both growing beyond Hope’s Peak Academy, in their ways, even though obviously there had been a time when Hajime would’ve told you that was impossible. He hadn’t thought he could imagine himself a meaningful future without some link to Ultimate Talent, without this school, whatever exactly it was, but the possibilities had started painting themselves to life without him really noticing it. The change crept in so sweetly, somewhere between the Ultimate Supreme Leader dragging the whole School Unity Club into participating in the next academy-wide musical and that time they’d all gotten lost in the mountains and Hajime found himself spreading his coat out over Nagito while he slept. Living had changed things, brought meaning where none had been assigned by fancy academy board members. When Hajime learned about the Izuru Kamukura Project – a study that had apparently endowed some random Reserve Course student with all the Ultimate Talents under the sun – he was jealous, yeah, but not the way he felt he should have been.

Hajime leaned across the desk and took Nagito’s face in his hands; he kissed him fast and hard, before he could change his mind. Kissed him like he’d yelled his actual first name in his face. Kissed him like truth, and the revelation he’d always thought maybe he could be, if only, if only, if only. He felt Nagito tense and then soften; he felt Nagito try to speak, and then close his eyes, pale lashes brushing against his skin. Hajime ran his hand down Nagito’s neck, and tangled it just a little in his unbrushed hair. Nagito made a wondering, helpless sound, and Hajime held him closer. Pulled back. Kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Nagito said. Hajime didn’t think he knew what for. Maybe he was still sorry for saying he didn’t think Hajime had any reason to come to this school and that whole tangled-up, confusing introduction they’d had; maybe he was just worried he’d turned out to be a disappointing kisser. Somewhere out in the hallway, Kokichi Oma was laughing, calling, “You’ll never take me alive!” to someone chasing him with a mysteriously bedazzled mop. Somewhere out in the hallway, Izuru Kamukura – Reserve Course student-turned living god – was staring out at the world and realizing it was all immeasurably, heartbreakingly boring, when all the talent possible was limp in his hands.

“Why?” Hajime asked.

“Um,” Nagito said. There were so many words churning inside him, but he was holding Hajime’s hand really tightly, now. He cleared his throat. “I mean, we can try that again, if you want. If I did it wrong.”

Hajime and Nagito were both strong believers in second chances, by that point. They went to the Main Course Graduation Ball with Nagito holding Hajime’s hand just as tight, and no, that absolutely wasn’t the last chance Hajime had to wear those four-leaf clover cufflinks.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

45 notes · View notes

cayde-6 · 4 years

Text

@pretty-meekish I have done you question thing.

Guardians name: Atlas

Age: 26

Race: Human

Call signs/alias: N/A

Pronouns: He/him

Class: Titan

Preferred subclass(es): Solar

Ghost's name: Drachen

Their Vanguard: Zavala

Fireteam name: Last Words

Fireteam teammates: Faire, Deimos, Ruin-1, Ardyn-2

Favorite legendary weapon: D1: The Devil you know. D2: The Vow

Favorite exotic weapon: D1: Patience and

Time/Gjallarhorn. D2: Ace of Spades/Sweet Business

Favorite exotic armor: D1: Sunbreakers Mark. D2: Armamentarium

Favorite ornament armor set: Virtuous set (Season of Dawn's set)

Favorite weapon ornament: Last Hand/Salute to the Colonel/Big Blind

What stats do they focus on: Resilience and Recovery

Are they offense, defence, or support: All three but mainly offense, he switches around if the situation calls for him to do so.

Do they prefer being close, mid, or long range: Close so he can punch things and set them on fire.

Do they lean more "Element of Surprise" or "Upfront and Aggressive": Upfront and Aggressive, he's a Titan.

Strikes, Gambit, or Crucible: Strikes although if Mayhem is in then he's heading for that.

Who was their mentor(if they had one. If it is a character you created, tell us about them!): A solar Titan named Chad Lucky

What ship do they have: Saint's Invocation with Reflection Effects for the transmats effect. Shader is Lighthouse Sun.

What is their Sparrow: Atlas Runner

Favorite Ghost shell: Tie between Kill Tracker Ghost, Kitbash Shell, and Atlas Shell.

(Although I do own the irl Kill Tracker Ghost so he leans towards this one, but Kitbash's description is a mood.)

Favorite shader: Sulfur Burnish (it's from D1 and I am too lazy to Google it)

Favorite color: Colors of fire

Favorite food: Apples

Favorite piece of Pre-Collapse tech(if they've seen any): N/A

Favorite Pre-Collapse music(if they've heard any): Rasputin by Bobby Farrell and this is only because he likes to blast it to annoy everyone or he knows others will start singing it.

Favorite place in The Last City(if it's a place you created, give a little description!): Shaxx's area

Favorite NPC(s): Shaxx, Zavala, Ikora, Cayde-6, Saint-14, Osiris, Banshee-44, Amanda, Lord Saladin, Lady Efrideet, Failsafe, Asher, Eva, Tyra, Arcite, KADI 55-30.

Favorite patrol location: Nessus

5 things your Guardian likes(can be anything): Sleep, his husband Shaxx, his friends, his Ghost, his Sparrow, when someone finally calls him a veteran. (I missed the transfer date by 3 months and I still am angry that I missed it.

Least favorite food: Rhubarb (My dad and his dad hate it so decided to give him it)

Least favorite shader: Anything related to his enemies and the Reef/Dreaming City, EX Reefmade.

Least favorite patrol location: Europa

Least favorite Pre-Collapse tech(if they've seen any): N/A

Least favorite NPC(s): The Sovs, The Brays, Executor Hideo, Brother Vance, The cult of Osiris, Variks.

Least favorite weapon ornament: All In, this is because it makes the Ace look like a completely new gun.

Least favorite ornament armor set: Legatus, Valkyrian, Hardy's.

Least favorite legendary weapon: (I really haven't thought of it.)

Least favorite exotic weapon: Any of them that people use to be dicks in Crucible like Jöttun because that means he only gets kills if he uses those guns.

Least favorite exotic armor: Ashen Wake

5 things your Guardian dislikes(this can be anything): The Sovs, The Brays, Executor Hideo, being awake, anyone being rude to his loved ones. (Looking at you Drifter)

Your Guardian has to rest. What is their living space like: Clean and tidy as they live with Shaxx.

Does your Guardian have any casual wear?(Y'all remember Polyvore? The website URSTYLE works very similar if that helps!): A T-shirt and black pants along with basketball shoes. [Literally what I wear]

What hobbies and/or skills does you Guardian have: Sewing, crocheting, knitting, reading.

What would your Guardian's lore book be called: Atlas's Wild Ride

Where was your Guardian reborn?(If you created the location, give us a little description!): Old America

What were they wearing when they were reborn: Gold and red shirt, black pants and basketball shoes.

What was their reaction to being reborn: Complete confusion

What was their reaction to their first rez: "What the absolute fuck!"

After being reborn, did they meet friendlies first or hostiles: Friendlies

Who was the first other Guardian they met?(Same thing! If you made them, give a little description!): Fireteam Hide and Reap. They're mine but I don't really feel like going into detail with all 6 members.

Did your Guardian get reborn with, or find, any indication of their past life? If so what do they have/found: He only knows that he entered a death trap so others could escape the Fallen.

How did your Guardian get their name(if they didn't rez with past life momentos): Since he was holding up a gate in the death trap his Ghost decided to give him the name Atlas due to how similar he looked to the pictures of the ancient Greek Titan.

Going back to your Guardian's lore book, what would be some quotes or passages from their book: "I punched an echo of Oryx to death!"

Does your Guardian have a significant other: Warlord Shaxx

Did your Guardian go explore first before going to The Last City? If so, where to: No

What was their reaction to first seeing The Last City: "That's huge!"

Is your Guardian a part of a clan: No but I am part of one.

Does your Guardian's clan have a back story? If so, what is it?(if you want to or able to share): N/A

If your Guardian would have a quote as a flavor text for a weapon and/or piece of armor, what would they be: "Hang in there my fellow Guardian."

If your Guardian has had any interactions with any civilians (The Last City/The Farm), Eliksni, Cabal, Vex, Hive, Taken, Scorn, Rouge Lightbearers, or Iron Lords/War Lords(if your Guardian is an Old Light) tell us about it!: I honestly don't feel like doing this one.

Does your Guardian have any unconventional allies or connections(By Vanguard standards): Drifter and Spider, he hates both but understands he needs them to do things.

How does your Guardian feel about themselves or others using Stasis: "I was unwillingly brought back from the dead so I'll use whatever power I please."

Did they run The Last Wish raid? How did they react to seeing a live Ahamkara a.k.a Riven: N/A

Did they run The Deep Stone Crypt raid? How did they react to the Crypt and seeing Exo Eliskni: N/A

Is your Guardian from D1? How did they react to seeing Taniks alive once again: "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO HIT HIM WITH MY HAMMER, JUST STAY FUCKING DEAD!"

Where did they go and what did they do during The Red War: He went to the Farm and made or fixed clothes as well as class items.

Here are some characters that are either polarizing or have created a strong enough mass emotion within the community. What opinion does your Guardian hold on each of them(These are only a handful of characters!)>>>

Osiris, First Warlock Vanguard, originally exiled: Bird grandpa 1.0 needs to go see his husband Bird grandpa 2.0 for love.

Eris Morn, Bane of the Swarm: Who doesn't love Creepy space mom!

Cayde-6, Sixth Hunter Vanguard: SPACE VODKA MOM I MISS YOU!

Ikora Rey, Second Warlock Vanguard: Space mom is very deadly, she needs sleep and relaxation

Commander Zavala, Second Titan Vanguard: Space dad is deadly too, he also needs sleep and relaxation.

Saint-14, legendary Titan, First Titan Vanguard: Bird grandpa 2.0 please go hug Bird grandpa 1.0!

Lord Saladin, Iron Banner handler, One of the last remaining Iron Lords: Wolf Grandpa!

Lady Efrideet, part time Iron Banner handler, Guardian hippie, One of the last remaining Iron Lords: Wolf Grandma will throw Titans at you if she's angry!

Lord Shaxx, Crucible handler, Hero of Twilight Gap, living megaphone: MY HUSBAND!

The Crow, New Light, Ex-Enforcer to The Spider: This is my begrudgingly adopted son who I co-parent with Faire.

Shaw Han, random Hunter vendor for the Cosmodrome: This is my dumb son I adopted.

The Spider, The Shore's Only Law, founder of "House" Spider: "Fuck off or I'll kill you with fire!"

Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef, Master of Crows: Fucky, Fucky, Fucky you!

Mara Sov, Queen of the Reef, Queen of the Awoken, Ex-Kell of Wolves: Fucky, Fucky, fucky you. Also SHAXX IS MINE NOW SO FUCK OFF, I'M A GOD SLAYER AND I FUCKING PUNCHED ORYX TO DEATH!

Variks, the Loyal, founder of House Judgement: "I didn't trust you in the Reef but now I hate you for the Prison riot and not just because Cayde died, the Scorn are unholy creatures that shouldn't have been able to be created."

Mithrax, the Forsaken, Kell of Light, founder of House Light: "You try anything and I WILL END YOU!"

The Exo Stranger/Elizabeth "Elsie" Bray, Granddaughter of Clovis I and Sister to Ana Bray: "Ew a Bray."

Eramis, of House Salvation, Kell of Darkness: "YOU BETTER STAY FUCKING FROZEN!"

Taniks the Scarred, the Perfected, the Abomination, the Shadow Thief: "WHY DON'T YOU STAY DEAD!"

The Darkness is fast approaching. How is your Guardian handling it: "Well shit."

And finally, does your Guardian have any advice for any New Lights:

"Hang in there and don't do anything that will make my unstable ass come after you because YOU WILL DIE. Also for the love of the Light RESPECT THE ELDER GUARDIANS LIKE ZAVALA OR IKORA!"

#destiny 2 #destiny the game #destiny titan #destiny game #destiny oc

10 notes · View notes

pokemoncoloursplash · 4 years

Note

Mods, can you share some of your OCs? I would like to know the types of characters you all have 🤔

Yes, they're all girls, and there's flannel and swords, I know. I was going to pick less... predictable characters, but I figured I at least knew what I was going to be bullied for with these. I think this is the first art I've posted onto the blog, too, so that's fun. - Mod Paragon.

---

Most of my OCs are dnd characters at this point lol. In the pride pic theres Keo (Fire Genasi Ranger/Monk, she is very sad rn), Valsera (Aasimar Barbarian who is now in a ghost form cause of cursed sword), Aisa (reformed Tiamat Cleric, I love her lots), Lachesi (Lesbian Tiefling Pirate aunt), Trish (Chaotic Thief turned Royal Adviser), and Thielva (Cottagecore Witch). The kitsune woman is Yon, she my current fave rn. Theres also my fursonas! One is a Monster Hunter Mizutsune and the other is a fox with antlers and decorative wings because why not. I have too many to list tbh

----

Well, Paragon’s was on-brand for her with flannel and swords, time to go on brand for me.

Unless you count Fakemon, I don’t really do OCs... With one exception from years ago.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to tell you about the RMS Harmonic.

That’s right, in my youth I had a boat as an OC.

The RMS Harmonic set sail on her maiden voyage on July 9th, 1918. She was built by Harland and Wolff to help pick up the slack that would be caused by Britannic’s sinking during the war. She was smaller than Olympic, a more moderate ship, but she was designed for speed. There were hopes that she would take the Blue Riband from Mauretania, hopes that came true in 1919. The two traded back and forth, taking the title of fastest ship while Olympic and Aquitania focused on comfort.

Then 1920 came around. White Star got its reparations for ships lost during the war, claiming Bismarck and Columbus. Rather than displace the beloved Olympic or the speedy Harmonic, White Star decided to transform their intended three ship service into a four ship service. Olympic would serve as flagship thanks to her years of reliability, Majestic would be the height of luxury, Harmonic would be the express service, and Homeric would be the stable middle ground.

The four vessels continued their career in tandem, working to keep White Star profitable. When the Depression rolled around, it was White Star that bought out Cunard rather than the other way around. The presence of Harmonic gave Olympic a chance to rest and be remodeled for a modern audience. Mauretania and Harmonic remained rivals for speed, but the rivalry became much friendlier and incredibly marketable. The Racing Horse and the Greyhound of the Atlantic.

But then came 1939. World War II. The aging Old Reliable, Lady Maury, and Ship Beautiful would return to battle, whilst Harmonic, Homeric, Berengaria, and Majestic would have their first taste of war. Not all of them would survive.

Olympic, Majestic, Aquitania, and Berengaria were used as transport ships due to their size. Mauretania and Harmonic became escort ships for their larger counterparts, using their speed to defend them. Homeric was to serve as a battlecruiser. The seven ships became a convoy, but seven would soon become six.

In transport mission gone wrong, the convoy was attacked. Aquitania, Harmonic, and Homeric were all damaged, with Homeric’s wounds being fatal. She sank, but the quick action of her comrades saved most of the souls aboard. Mauretania and Harmonic opened fire, with Harmonic pulling a card from her adopted sister Olympic’s deck and cutting open the submarine with her propeller. Homeric was gone, but she was also avenged.

Unfortunately, six would become five. Berengaria’s faulty wiring finally came back to bite her. She caught fire and lost power in the middle of a journey. Mauretania and Harmonic were dispatched to help her, but it was too late. The dreaded battleship Bismarck had claimed yet another a victim. Bismarck opened fire on the Greyhound and the Racing Horse, but the two vessels managed to escape, using the speed that had forged their rivalry to save themselves.

When five becomes four, Harmonic’s career ends. In the waning years of the war, Olympic, Majestic, Harmonic, and Mauretania sailed together. They were a prime target. A submarine was sighted, aiming at Old Reliable. Harmonic’s captain pushed her to her limit, lunging forward. A shot that could have hit Olympic instead hit Harmonic. She was quickly evacuated, but the second torpedo hit the crippled ship. With a sad final groan, Harmonic sank to the bottom of the ocean.

Harmonic’s sacrifice was not in vain. Olympic survived, she lived on. She stood in for her sister in “A Night To Remember”. With Harmonic’s end, the legend lived on.

Years later, Robert Ballard, the same man who discovered the wreck of Harmonic’s step-sister Titanic and her attempted destroyer Bismarck came upon her, her wreck broken into three pieces. Harmonic’s story was told once again. She was remembered for her speed, the rivalry she had with the now floating hotel Mauretania. She was remembered for her service, noted on the walls of the maritime museum that Majestic had become. She was remembered for her sacrifice, with the continued existence of Old Reliable Olympic being a testament to her work. Aquitania may not have made it, the damage sustained during Homeric’s sinking having finally put her out of commission, but the legend lived on.

Harmonic was not remembered like Titanic. Of course she wasn’t. But her name was spoken in the same breath as Berengaria. She was remembered as a ship that survived Bismarck’s wrath, her name immortalized in the song “Sink The Bismarck” along with Mauretania. Her legend lived on.

Her wreck was remembered for another reason. She sank just right to be perfect for divers, preserved in water warm enough for her to become a coral reef. She wouldn’t rust away. She would carry out one last purpose. She would teem with life once more. The legend would live once again.

---

A bit difficult to continue off of that, lol. Light wanted me to share some of his dnd OCs as well, I'll add their summaries. Balthazar is a Gold Dragonborn werebear, chosen by the Morta fate to be her champion against the damage an entity known as Obsidia has caused (Obsidia is one of my girls). Balthazar is many centuries old now, and is currently settled down with my Kitsune, Yon. He has a son named Eclipse and 3 young kits with Yon. Theres also Holden, who is Thielvas husband and one of the Archdruids of the realm. The druid Naya was his tutor, an elf woman who lost her arms talking back to her slaver. Lastly but not least is Obexis, a very mysterious Blue Dragon whose intentions and allegiances are unknown. He seems to play many angles, but no one knows why. -Decim

----

Needs to b cleaned up a bit n updated but here https://toyhou.se/SyBeez/characters - Shay

-----

Here are my main 8

These are their redesigns I did on mgm2 (monster girl maker 2)

Roger looks weird in this lol he has a beard.

Adalwolf has a prosthetic metal right arm.

You can barely see it but Vincent has freckles.

Kurono and Saturnalia are CrowDoll's family (Kurono adoptive little brother and Saturnalia created CrowDoll and is her mom).

Shiroi is an oni and Eigna is a ghost.

Adalwolf, Roger, Vincent, Kurono, and Saturnalia are humans (Saturnalia is half human half doll).

Azazel is not there in the pic cus he looks weird humanish on this app lol, he's a big and tall animated puppet.

I should really them sometime soon ówò

I hope you guys like them!

-smol

#paragon rambles #paragon extras #decima speaks #long post #dnd #ocs #oc talk #tiefling #elves #discussions with dragonis #ocean liner #regarding light #shay.txt #smol talk #i have a lot of ocs lmao

21 notes · View notes

c-is-for-circinate · 5 years

Text

“What the Fuck is Up with the Elves” (or, more worldbuilding for C’s D&D game)

So the thing is, I call myself an ecologist, and I am, really, or at least I’ve been working as one when I’m not working as a general all-math-and-science teacher for the past ten years. But that’s not, quite, technically, what my degrees are in. Technically, as per my master’s thesis, I’m an evolutionary biologist.

Which means that when I run a D&D game? We start from a place of hominid evolution.

Gnomes and dwarves evolved on the continent of Nokomoris, where most of our game takes place. Some 50,000 years ago, humans came up out of the neighboring continent (which has a dozen different names, but we can call it Kekiris, that’s as accurate as any) and joined them, and together the three races learned to master fire and metalwork and gods and demons and the four Great Schools and the two Minor Schools of arcane magic (for those were the days before the elves, before the discovery of abjuration, when it was thought that only the gods could conjure and transmutation was limited to minor tricks and divine crafts).

Elves, and their cousins the orcs (though no elf alive today would admit that they are cousins in truth, and the orcs themselves have all but forgotten it) evolved side by side on the continent of Priyl, a fifteenth the size of Nokomoris and isolated in the middle of the ocean, beset by storms and reefs on all sides.

Well. The elves of the Ascendancy call it Priyl, and so does everybody else, these days, in respect to them. The orcs and half-orcs remember that it was Getirka, and still is to those of their brethren still living there. The people of Nokomoris have all but forgotten the days when they called it Thidoris, when it was nothing more than a myth.

(There are other continents, beyond those three, of course--but time enough for that later. Nobody on Nokomoris remembers the continent of Calladia these days, and that might be for the best, for now. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.)

Six and a half thousand years ago, the continent of Priyl, called Getirka by the orcs and Thidoris by the gnomes and humans and dwarves, disappeared from the ocean. Five hundred and twelve years it appeared again. And that was enough to change the world.

Priyl, then, because we’re talking about elves. Priyl is such a small continent, really, surrounded by such very storm-like oceans, full of so much desert and so many mountains and so very, very many things with sharp teeth and venom spines. The spiders and snakes can kill a beast a thousand times their size. The fish on the reef around the continent, who look like stone or coral or sand or squirming tentacle-beasts, have spines and teeth with venom that can kill ten times faster than that.

Half of Priyl is worn thin between planes, or at least it was so many hundreds of thousands of years ago, when lithe thin agile elf-ancestors took to the trees and the mountains to run from their fierce unstoppable orc cousins. They were barely more than beasts themselves, either of them. The elves were perhaps a little more clever, but perhaps they were only quicker, lighter, lither in the branches of trees. The orcs were more determined. They invented fire first.

Fire doesn’t mix well with trees, particularly not in the long dry drought of a Priylan summer, and the elves died, and died--and survived, some of them, always. Through trickery and luck, some elves always survived.

And the fey noticed.

There are a thousand different ways planes can brush up against each other; a million years later, in the present day of 512 HA, the scholars of Nokomoris will have names and categories for half a dozen. One of those is what they call a seep--a place as small as a few square yards, as huge as a dozen square miles, where two planes wear as thin as over-used linen cheesecloth next to each other, and ooze one into the other in bits and pieces and fragments of magic over years.

It’s not meant to be possible, for an entire continent to be a seep, but many things that are not meant to be possible are nonetheless true. Priyl was thin before the elves and orcs even came to be there. Fey roamed the lands, called them home, before they ever took forms with two legs and two arms and a face that could speak a language of people. They noticed the thin little cousins-of-orcs fleeing through the trees, and they saw the invention of fire and the forests that burned, and a few of them decided--well. There’s a game worth playing.

Half a million years ago, the fey taught the first True Elves about magic. Nothing has ever been the same since.

Fifteen thousand years ago, when dwarves and humans and gnomes were only just learning to turn stone tools into plowshares and turn goats and sheep and aurochs into tame animals, the elves of Priyl had cities that stretched halfway to the sky.

They made war, of course, of course they did. They waged it against each other, because nothing else was worthy of their conquest. Ten generations of orcs could live and breed and die before an elf could even count themself arrived at adulthood. The world beyond Priyl was strange and distant, far beyond notice or care. The vast universe of the planes, and beyond--that drew the elven attention far more than anything on the world of Onde.

There were in those days two kinds of elves, or perhaps three, or perhaps a thousand. In fact, perhaps the easiest way to divide the elves of that time is by how many sorts of elves they themselves believed existed. In that case it was the three-sort elves who were correct, which makes their fate even more dark irony in the end.

They were the Day Elves, the Night Elves, and the True Million; High Elves and Bad Elves and those fuckers in the woods, I guess. They were, according to a third of their number, the elves of Sun, Moon, and Twilight; and this is how the self-styled Moon Elves would explain the difference:

During the day, with the sun bright and desperate overhead, it is easy to believe that light and dark are opposites, the only two options. It is easy to believe in sun and darkness and no other in-between. It is easy to believe in Your Own and then also The Rest Of Them. It is easy to believe in your own power. And so the day elves, the sun elves, as silver and gold as though no other color existed in the universe, studied the foundations of their own powers and ignored all else. They were wizards and full of magic, and they built the cities that towered to the sun, and they wrote the laws and warred each other, and they gave polite nods to the fey if they passed but they did not bow to them, for they accepted only the opposing ideas of Subservience and Mastery, and they refused to be servants.

At dawn and dusk, with all the shadows grown long and small lights flickering from every direction, it is easy to confuse lies and honesty everywhere, to lose sight of any firm reality. It is easy to believe that nothing is quite real in the first place and anything is as good as anything else. It is easy to believe in tricks and riddles, and to toss aside that belief a moment later, to cling to nothing but artifice and bargains and boundaries on trust. The twilight elves, the wood elves, red and green and brown and gold and silver and white and black and gray, ran with the fey who’d once taught and married their ancient ancestors. They were warlocks and full of trickery and half-truth, and they studied math and logic and ventured from city to city slipping in between the bounds set by the daylight elves as though they had not spotted them in the dark. They wrote contracts and twisted reality around themselves, for they believed in everything and nothing, just like their masters, and could not see far enough to grasp the reality of anything.

At night, in clear moonlight, it is easy to see the truth: there is light, and there is dark, and there is everything in between. There may be master and servant, and that may be firm and unchangeable, no matter how the shadows hide it--but for every servant on his knees in the dirt, there is always one more, lower still than them. Every master lording over her servant has yet another master.

So it was that the moon elves discovered the gods. Priyl was not a good land for gods, with the blurring of its boundaries, its fade between reality and not. They did not often feel welcome there. Still, in the middle of the night, with one or two or all three moons full and bright overhead, they could find their way down. Even the fey had to be overmastered by someone.

There were three gods that the Elves of Night found, as they searched and studied and prayed, there in the moonlit dark on the continent of Priyl, where the smallest creatures were full of venom and might. They found the queen of spiders, and the king of serpents, and the prince of fish and tentacles and uncharted depths. The elves of the moon went to their knees and prayed.

In those days the elves had boats, of course. They had not quite mastered the art of teleportation that would join their cities in the future, and they did not most of them quite care about the world beyond the boundaries of their reefs, but curiosity has always been an elven trait. The moon-elven worshippers of the god of the sea, and the twilight adventurers whose fae patrons implored them to spread chaos and wonder, they learned to sail and venture forth. They mapped the world of Onde while the humans and gnomes and dwarves of Nokomoris were still just learning to put stylus to clay and charcoal to tanned leather, while the humans of someday-Calladia were singing their sky-song and building empires of ritual and sound.

(Orcs invented boats first. Orcs have been on Nokomoris for tens of thousands of years, coming few by few, interbreeding with humans until barely any sign of them was left to meet the next ship to arrive. Few enough of them ever made it back over the reefs to return to Getirka, even before the High Elves Ascendant erected the Stormwall. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves again.)

Here is the thing that every elf known on Nokomoris today will say, to anyone who asks them, about their history: 6,703 years ago, by the calendar reckoning of humans, gnomes, and dwarves, the Elven Ascendancy rose to shepherd all of the elves of Priyl, and closed the continent away from all the world to protect--

And that’s where the story will pause, because what protection could the elves ever have needed from the rest of the world? The elves appeared in Nokomoris five hundred years, and shook the world on its foundations. Every kingdom on Onde was tumbled before their power.

‘To protect you all from us,’ so many elves would say. They would be correct, of course, and altogether wrong, all at once.

Spiders are not evil. Neither are serpents, or stonefish, or krakens. Neither are the gods of them.

They shed their skins, though, all at once or piece by piece. And sometimes they demand the world do the same. Sometimes they demanded apocalypse and rebirth. It wasn’t such a very far stretch, really, after all.

The dark elves of black and white and gray believed in nuance as an article of faith. They also believed in duty, and truth, and fortitude across an ever-changing night. They believed in a lot of things. That was, a little bit, the point.

It took a thousand years of war for the cities of Sun Elves to come together to agree, at the very last, that even should it take all their power they must see the Night Elves driven entire from the continent of Priyl. They must see it done, and they would unite themselves to do it. It took another century of war first, with all the united might of the Elven Cities bent against the god-worshippers, the moonlight elves with their huge pale eyes and their unglowing skin. It could be their only salvation, before the gods of venom and rebirth called for the destruction of everything they loved and knew.

And so it was, 6,602 years ago, that all of the very most powerful wizards of the Elves of Day, the Sun Elves, high and ascendant and triumphant, joined their power as one to join nature and force and illusion all bound together in one great wall. The Stormwall, sixteen thousand miles long, encircling all of Priyl in its arms.

(Did the Wild Elves, the twilight elves, the forest warlocks, did they help? Oh yes, my friend. Oh yes, of course they did, for the Sun Elves--they only ever saw two sides, don’t you remember? Two sides, dark and light, and the twilight elves trapped on the in-between--well. They always did know how to deal oh-so-very carefully with a master that little bit stronger than them. So the wild elves helped, and the Stormwall--the Stormwall worked perfectly, to keep anyone outside of Priyl from venturing in.)

6,703 years ago, the Empyrean Ascendant became the very first sovereign on the seat of the Elven Ascendancy. 6,600 years ago, the elves of Priyl found peace. More or less.

And what became of the moon elves, the night elves, the elves of the dark? What became of them, and their spider-queen, serpent-king, fish-prince?

They went to Calladia, of course--though it was called Thiel then, once upon a time. They went to Thiel-that-would-be-Callida, and Thiel found itself unmade.

There is a great deal to say of old mythical Thiel, and the lands it became and then unbecame again, and again, and again, cycling once and twice and more and more over the thousands of years between now and then. There is a great deal to say, and some of it is about the elves that live there, and some of it is about the humans they found when they arrived, and some of it is about the changelings that sprung up between them, faceless shapeshifters learning to live just as everyone else. Right now, in the year 512 HA, five centuries after the fall of the Storm Wall, the continent is nothing but a thousand-island archipelago. It remembers, barely, that it was Callida nine centuries ago, and had merchant ships and commerce to the east and west, with Nokomoris and Kekiris and beyond. It remembers being shattered to pieces in hopes of rebirth. It does not remember that it ever was Thiel, not in the deepest dimmest history, save in the oldest of records.

There is a great deal to say, but what I will tell you now is this: the fish around the continent that once was Thiel do not sting with venom spines that kill in the space of a breath, and the tentacle-armed creatures that swim their bays are small and soft and cannot kill at all. There is very little for the Prince of Depths to do here, little space for him to make himself known.

There are frogs here, instead. They do not bite except ants and flies, but they glow bright, red and yellow and violet and blue. They poison nobody except the unwary hunter who does not leave them as they sit. (The unwary hunter, they will kill. The wary hunter learns to use them, instead.)

They change, from fish-spawn to frog-grandmother, to eggs, to spawn again. It’s easier to believe in the Frog Daughter (who is also the mother of all, wide-mouth frog devourer of all) than any unfamiliar lord of depths and venom.

The Frog Daughter is, perhaps, a kinder god than her predecessor-brother. There’s some kindness in all three of the dark elves’ gods, if you know where to look. They’re all three of them gods of transformation, and that can always be a kindness, for some.

And what of Priyl, then, in their absence?

The Ascendancy has held strong for six thousand years and nearly another thousand after that. Eleven elves Ascendant, after the Empyrean, each of them chosen and sworn to the good of all before more than two centuries of life have passed them by, each of them sworn to rule for a thousand years if they can. Each of them have made that oath, and under them the Ascendancy has flourished.

Throughout Priyl, throughout its mountains, there are the Cities of the Ascendancy, and each city is vast and towering, halfway up to the skies, and each city is within itself world and shining garden. Each city is full of sparkling crystalline fountains and waterfalls, parks and fresh water to drink, home to a thousand sparkling silver fishes that are art and food and life all at once. Vines climb up the dazzling towers from terrace to terrace and grow fruit and berries and grain. Shimmering pigeons of red and purple iridescence bred for perfect accent color beauty soar between golden bridges and balustrades, and lay their eggs, and nobody in an elven city ever goes hungry.

(And what became of the twilight elves, then, when the sun elves rose up on high and claimed their world? They retreated to shadow and stayed in the in-between, of course, just as they always have. Their feytrap labyrinths deep in the mountains and deserts and woods of Priyl are sprawling and inescapable temples to artifice and knowledge and math, and their acolytes strike deals and take powers from their Lady Whispered and Lord Gloaming, and their children grow in the shining towers of the cities of the ascendancy and pay their dues to the elves on high. The warlock elves, the fae-friends, the elves of the woods, they have always understood the needs of survival. They remember the dark elves. They remember the price of loss. Even if the high elves themselves won’t.)

And so it was for six thousand years, until the Halcyon Ascendant rose to power, five hundred and twelve years ago. And the Halcyon Ascendant, who was wizard and diviner, who was young and brave and as wise as she was clever, who looked into the world and saw the future--

the Halcyon Ascendant said, it is time to lower the Stormwall and venture forth to know the world.

Nobody knows, exactly, why the Halcyon Ascendant gave such an order. Few elves know exactly what it cost to fulfill it. Fewer still would ever admit it.

What is known, by everybody on Nokomoris, is this: the elves appeared on their great silver ships out of nowhere at all, five hundred years ago, and changed everything in the world. Cities and nations rose and fell. The elves knew magic nobody had ever heard of before.

The elves brought transmutation and conjuration and abjuration that could be studied and learned from books instead of summoned from gods and the incomprehensible overwhelming power of nature. They brought potions and alchemy and science. The elves brought to Nokomoris the very first teleportation circles (and Nokomoris as it is now, with the Nine Cities and their reign, could not exist without teleportation circles.)

Today, the elves live in every major city on the continent. They live west of the mountains of the Western Wall, and in cities on the continent of Kekiris. Always in sweeping, curving, tall shining towers, in their own elven enclaves, part of every city but not beholden to it. Always full of wonders to sell, perhaps, if their leaders in the Ascendancy deem it proper; always rich with the wealth of their nation, which is free to all elves, and nobody else.

There are elven advisors and elven investors and elven ambassadors. There are elven students in the universities, and professors there, as well. There are no elven kings or governors or lords, of course there aren’t--no elf could truly be a citizen of Nokomoris, not honorably. Every elf born is a subject of the Ascendancy.

And finally, here is what the orcs know of elves. The orcish story is their own, and long and varied and rich, the orcs of Getirka-called-Priyl and the orcs of New Gettik on Nokomoris, and it is also long, full of diaspora and resilience and art and culture and many, many thousands of generations of twins. It is another post for another time.

But what the orcs know of elves, for they do come from the very same land, from its opposite sides, is: there are whole universes beyond what the elves consider worthy of their attention. It’s true that no ship or desperate swimmer arrived on the continent of Getirka or Priyl for all the six thousand years that the Stormwall soared. It is not true that no ship ever left.

The orcs say it, and the orcs know. The orcs of New Gettik and Clure, here on Nokomoris, know it especially. They were here before the elves arrived. Even the rest of Nokomoris realizes that.

Every gnome, dwarf, and human on Nokomoris knows that all elves everywhere in the world belong to the Ascendancy. Every orc knows that there are worlds below the elves’ notice, that they forget about conveniently, that they pretend not to see. Some orcs may think to wonder whether they’ve forgotten about other elves, too.

#C the DM #world building #dnd

78 notes · View notes

orphidian · 4 years

Text

𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙰 𝟶𝟹: 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝚀𝙸.

@solhunt said: what does namqi mean to orin and what influence did he have on her life? @mercysought said: tell us how namqi and orin started their relationship and how was it for her to feel for the first time that she didn't want to leave

Their story is incredibly straight forward, and so is their love. Orin and Namqi meet not long after she arrived in the Last Safe City and left the Pilgrim Guard. He is Awoken, like her, which is a rare enough sight. Even rarer still, he wasn’t a Risen, but an Awoken of the Reef, a rather mysterious lot that keep to themselves, sharing their knowledge on weapons and medicine and agriculture with humanity but never revealing their home to those on Earth. Many people at this time would choose to avoid the Awoken whether they were Earthborn and Reefborn, so Namqi is surprised when Orin approaches him. She has an endless amount of questions for him, questions concerning their people, their home, and more. Over the course of two months—during which they repair his damaged Hildian together—she manages to convince him to bring her to the Reef, to break the queenslaw. Their initial connection is that strong.

“Most of all, Orin is struck by his ability to listen with empathy. He is quiet more often than not. Long silences don't frighten him. And when he speaks, he does it deftly, without condescension.” — Queenslaw, Ecdysis

This is a direct comparison to the way Orin’s own speech is described earlier in the Ecdysis book, and explains why she finds herself so drawn to Namqi in the first place. She has finally found a mirror for her own empathy, someone who can point all of her own warmth back at her in full, someone she feels utterly comfortable opening up to. For Orin—who is intensely aware of how powerful words can be and how careless people can be in wielding them—this is incredible, and the feeling is mutual considering his willingness to go against Mara Sov’s laws by smuggling an Earthborn Awoken into the Reef.

They’re caught almost instantly. Sjur Eido recognizes her old friend in Nasan in Orin, as does the Queen, who tells Orin her version of the rather tragic history of the Awoken. Namqi is given five years indentured service, wherein he gets to pick his service and negotiate his salary. Orin’s punishment is less severe, as she is not who she once was and so cannot be held accountable for her past oaths to the Queen. Instead, Mara demands a future debt of her choosing, of which Orin accepts. She is the first Guardian Mara ever trusts.

Orin returns to Earth and keeps in daily contact with Namqi, begging him to come get her when he is finally released so that they can explore and figure out what humanity was trying to achieve before the Collapse and the Dark Ages.

“They scour the inner planets in his Hildian. When parts of it break down, they work odd jobs.

They are deliriously happy.

Centuries pass.” — Debt, Ecdysis

Realizing that she never wants to leave Namqi isn’t a sudden revelation. It simply never occurs to her that she should leave, and that feeling of claustrophobia never comes. She doesn’t feel that terrifying restlessness she’s felt before—partly because they spend most of their time exploring but mostly because she feels complete with Namqi in a way she hasn’t experienced before. Their love matures, deepens, expands. They invite others to join them, in their travels and their love. They ground each other, and never spend more than a few months apart.

Eventually Mara cashes in on the debt that Orin owes her, asking Orin to search for her lover Sjur Eido’s murderer. Her search leads her to an encounter with Xûr, and the beginning of her transformation into the Emissary.

“Orin begins to experience waking hallucinations. Immaterial strangers speak to her in unrecognizable languages. When she reaches for Namqi, she feels as if she is falling into him, being pulled through him, sieved into smaller and smaller scarves of some atom-self that he breathes into the blood of his bones.” — Synesthesia, Ecdysis

When Orin tries to explain what she’s experiencing to Namqi ( and Mara and Gol ) he gives her—to her ears—empty reassurances, and tries to convince her to stop searching for the Nine. Orin does not listen, and goes on without Namqi in her search.

At this point in their relationship it’s not unusual for them to split off from each other. Orin is a part of the Firebreak Order, and so has duties concerning the City and the defense of its people by pushing into enemy territory. Namqi is still an Awoken of the Reef, and so has his own duties to the Queen and his people. They often go weeks or even months without seeing each other, sometimes without contact when in parts of the system that don’t permit communication.

This time when they split though, Namqi doesn’t return.

“On the day that Namqi dies, no one can reach her or Gol, though they do try.

She does not find out for months.” — Synesthesia, Ecdysis

Namqi dies in what is assumed to be an aphelion attack on the RSS Armestris. The recovered transcriptions say they thought the hull was breached, and describe a “glowing creature” and something called “the stalking core” attacking the crew. The ship—examined by drones because of the high levels of radiation on the surface—shows no sign of a hull breach, no evidence of shots fired, no signs of alien or internal interference. And no survivors.

When Orin eventually visits the Reef again, she is told of Namqi’s death, and taken to a room where she can listen to Namqi’s last recorded words.

“On the day she meets Wu Ming, she is on Bamberga. She has just left a Gensym lab. She has just read a transcript of Namqi's last words. Her hands are shaking. She feels nauseous. She feels she can see herself in third-person, tottering to a safe place to sit and cry.” — Synesthesia, Ecdysis

“T-4: ORIN, IT'S ME, IT'S NAMQI. I DON'T THINK I'M COMING HOME, BABY. I'M SO SORRY. I'M, I'M, I JUST WANT TO TELL YOU THAT I LOVE [STATIC FOLLOWS]” — Bamberga, The Dreaming City

At this point the Nine are still very much “haunting” her, and between her grief and slow descent into madness, Orin finds comfort in a man named Wu Ming. She doesn’t recognize him anymore, doesn’t recognize the man she knew and loved hundreds of years ago when she was still with the Pilgrim Guard as Eli. He chooses to lean into that, at first it seems to get information about the Nine from her. It quickly evolves into something deeper, something consuming. Something ultimately built on a lie.

And eventually Wu Ming can’t keep lying to Orin and tells her the truth: that he knows her, that they once knew each other, that he pretended to know Namqi, that he pretended not to know her.

The Nine use Wu Ming’s revelation to their advantage, driving her away from him and into their grasp by exacerbating her own feelings of betrayal. Maybe even as a bargain, the Nine revealed a path to save Namqi, but that’s purely speculation.

And while Orin succumbs to the transformation, she does not forget Namqi. In her most lucid states when she is the most herself, when she speaks and debates and argues with the Nine, she is thinking of Namqi. Even speaks as if he is listening.

“SAFE HARBOR IS VERY FAR AWAY

'Dogma. I'm sick of your dogma. I'll be just a little longer, Namqi.'” — Emissary, The Awoken of the Reef

This is mostly a method of coping. Orin has always existed as a liminal sort of being but as the Emissary she is even more so, to the point of beginning to lose sight of her own humanity. This is the inevitable outcome when who you are as a person has been pared down to the bone and taken over by beings incapable of understanding humanity. Namqi is the essence of love and empathy in her life. Speaking to him as if he were there with her helps ground her within the cold strangeness of Nine space, helps ground her within herself.

“I’ll be just a little longer,” she says, and part of her believes that if he is dead then perhaps she will die soon too when the Nine are done with her, and go wherever he has gone. More likely—as Orin is not overtly spiritual and does not necessarily believe in an afterlife—she thinks she can save him.

Whether this means the Nine were responsible for his death and merely made it seem otherwise and Orin knows this, or they have given Orin more knowledge about the aphelion and what might have become of Namqi and the rest of the crew of the Armestris is hard to say, though the latter seems more likely. In any case, she believes firmly that she will see him again. Whether dead or alive—for either of them—she can’t say.

Namqi is everything to Orin. He is the first person in her many lives that she lets love her in return, fully. She’s always been open with giving her own love, but it’s always been partly used as a sort of defense mechanism. If she loves harder, when it inevitably fails, when she inevitably grows restless and leaves, it will hurt them less if she doesn’t let them love her as much as she loves them.

But Namqi is the first instance of Orin opening herself to the terrifying notion of being completely known and fully loved. The first time she never worries about being made into something she’s not, something bigger than herself. The first time she doesn’t feel shackled by some nameless weight. He knows her, better than she knows herself. And she knows him the same way.

Even in death he’s one of the only reasons she remains human.

#meta.#when it’s over you’re the start / namqi.#a.#hi i'm emo about Them #and wrote way more than i expected lmao #HE'S JUST SUCH A BIG PART OF HER LIFEEEE #bungie i need to know more about him #long post #also i only skimmed this in terms of proofreading so if something is like SUPER bad please let me know ;asldkfj

6 notes · View notes