#not a sunning spot but she also likes sleeping in the helm

[leavingautumn13]

Where does Pumpkin best like to be scratched, and does she have favourite sunning spots?

pumpkin likes her cheeks and between her wings scratched the best. she does not allow belly rubs.

she spends a lot of time on the deck of the ship when sunlight's available. she likes sleeping on the railing next to the stairs that lead down to the crew cabin--the rest of the crew pets her as they walk by. she also likes sleeping in the window of euphemia's cabin or in the cockpit windows if the ship is in transit.

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 20

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 4.3k

Warnings: y/n & draco, character death, violence, general heavy themes, fluff, y/n & hermione are endgame , events follow canon (in theory)

Note: here it is.. the final chapter ! (technically it's not over yet since we still have the epilogue, which i will try my best to get out within the next week, fingers crossed)

i also want to thank you guys so much for being here. whether you just found this fic recently or you've been here since the beginning, i hope you know i appreciate your support so much. it's the reason we even got to this point! i'm truly going to miss writing this story, more than you know. especially considering it has been apart of my life for over a year now, which is crazy! but anyway, love you guys, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @brocoliisscared @aki-ham @theheartwants-what-itwants

Hours since the Dark Lord and his followers had officially retreated. 

The sun was now steadily taking its position in the sky, illuminating the mortal world. Heedlessly enforcing the illusion that tragedy no longer looms over Hogwarts and all wizard-kind. 

That is, of course, as further as one could possibly get from the truth.

The atmosphere amidst the Great Hall unfailingly reminds everyone of a suffocating reality. It is thick with grief. Cold, dark and devoid of life– much like the dead that lay within it.

Hermione has yet to leave your side since you found a space to sit amongst the rubble. She continues to cling to you like a lifeline. Harry has been gone for hours, and Hermione, with a bit of coaxing, has finally stopped crying.

Ginny however remained hysterical– till her father was forced to subdue her with a Laxo charm. Still its effects wear off too quickly, and Ginny is far too vulnerable to justify repeated use. So her parents have settled with putting her to sleep instead.

She rests her head on Ron’s shoulder, blind and deaf to the destruction around her, even if only for a short while.

“Are you alright?” A foolish question, but Hermione, ever sweet and gentle, doesn't berate you for it. She nods, wordlessly slipping her arm around you before nestling her face into the crook of your neck. 

Hermione desperately seeks an escape through you and there is nothing more you wish to do than to give her just that. You want to be her helm in a sea of catastrophe, as much as she is yours.

Nothing matters anymore, only her. 

As you slip a comforting arm around your girlfriend, you take a scan of the hall, quickly regretting your decision to do so as you divert your eyes away from the row of corpses laid across the floor. 

It is then you spot a familiar face that causes your stomach twists even more, you are overcome with the sudden urge to wretch.

Draco appears just as pale and miserable as he approaches you. Gingerly taking a seat, cautious not to interrupt your embrace with Hermione. For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speak.

“I thought you left the castle with the rest of them.” You find yourself muttering, surprising Draco and especially yourself.

Hermione lifts her head, once she realizes you were not speaking to her. 

She takes notice of the platinum haired man next to you, and you feel her tense within your hold. Hermione’s expression visibly hardens, and you recognize that it would be smart to continue putting yourself in between her and Draco for the time being. 

“No, I– I couldn’t. My parents.. they were looking for me, but I– I hid.” Your best friend remarks, he is unable to keep eye contact with you. 

Guilt is ever corrosive, and it was consuming him alive. You see it in the very way Draco carries himself– so far removed from the person he once was.

Much like yourself.

It seems as though Draco is entirely expecting you to push some blame onto him. As if the destruction here today was caused solely by him. Though things are hardly as simple as that– besides, there is little reward in kicking a man when he is already down.

“At least you refused them. I know it isn’t easy.” You state. A feeble attempt to uplift him.

“Doing the right thing rarely ever is.” Hermione chimes in, as she puts her head on your shoulder once more. Her demeanor has softened, and in any regular instance, this might even fill you with joy.

“Does it even matter now? It’s too late.” Draco wallows, and a part of you wants to contend his statement, but that would also mean lying to him.

“And my mother and father– I’ve disappointed them.” He adds and now you let out a humorless chuckle. 

“We have that in common. Mine certainly aren’t going to acknowledge me as their daughter now.” You say, and your best friend almost seems comforted by the notion.

“Mine either.” Hermione quips plainly, her attempt at lighthearted banter only shatters you. 

You turn to place a lingering kiss against her forehead. Hermione accepts it as a faint smile plays on her lips, one reserved only for you.

‘As long as we stay together it'll be fine.’ You remind yourself for the dozenth time.

Draco sighs.

“There was no point to any of this.. it's all gone to shit.” He utters, exasperated, and Hermione nods in agreement.

Another chuckle slips out of you, this time from true amusement. Possibly from exhaustion or simply just a reaction to the ludicrous position you have all found yourselves in. You are sitting in what was once the Great Hall; the safest and warmest place in all of Hogwarts is now reduced to nothing but dust, piles of stone and death. 

You ought to be studying for your end of year exams, yet instead, you have been battling Death Eaters. 

People you considered friends have attempted to harm you more than once, and now it is not even certain if you would survive long enough to see nightfall.

Despite herself, Hermione begins to laugh with you. Draco only scoffs at this, he averts his gaze but you manage to catch the smile threatening to form on his face.

The moment does not last much longer as a noise in the distance abruptly steals your attention. The air in Hogwarts is no longer desolate, it has been awoken once more, and you quickly find out why.

Neville is first to rise off the floor, swiftly walking out into the courtyard. Students and teachers, reluctant but curious, follow suit. 

You leave Draco behind as you move through the crowd, Hermione quickly falls in next to you and Ron settles a few paces behind. 

Your worst fear is realized. 

They have returned, to finish what they started. 

A large army of Death Eaters approaches Hogwarts, the Dark Lord leads them at the front of the brigade. As they get closer, you notice Hagrid towering over the rest, he walks with something large in his arms.

Your face falls in horror once you make out exactly what it was he was carrying. Harry Potter, limp and lifeless. 

Hagrid held him as though he weighed no more than a feather. It is a devastating sight, but you can’t seem to look away. 

You feel the sudden urge to pinch yourself, to force yourself awake.

You are trapped in a grim nightmare, Harry cannot be dead. 

“No.” Ron utters your thoughts out loud.

Hermione is reduced to soft sobs as she turns away in distress, you feel compelled to pull her in for an embrace once more.

“Who is that, Hagrid’s carrying?” Ginny’s voice echoes through the courtyard. She is awake, only to be struck in the face with atrocity.

“Neville, who is that?” She calls, much louder and desperate.

“Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord responds to her question with glee.

“No– no!” Ginny cries, but she is quickly silenced with a wave of Voldermort’s hand, he forces her to the ground.

“Silence! You stupid girl.” He bellows as Arthur frantically helps his daughter back on her feet, dragging her as far from the enemy as possible.

“Harry Potter is dead, from this day forth, you put your faith in me.” Voldermort claims and he is only met with a stunned silence.

"Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord declares again in celebration turning to his followers. He laughs, maniacal and bone chilling. Death eaters soon join in, a roar of erroneous joy.

Blind rage gives Hermione the strength to finally look upon Voldermort, you release her from your grip, but maintain close proximity.

“And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us, or die.” Voldermort states, his arms outstretched– a forced gesture of welcome.

Once again, you can all only afford to stare at him in disbelief.

“Draco!” Lucius calls for his son angrily, and you only realize then that you’ve entirely lost sight of your best friend.

The crowd parts slightly, and you finally spot him at the other side of the courtyard, standing amongst Seamus, George and Dean.

“Draco.” Narcissa coaxes her son in a far gentler manner, but the distress and worry within her gaze is plain for you to see.

Draco stares at his parents for a prolonged moment and then turns to look towards you. Your breath hitches in your throat, the weight of the world is on his shoulders and he means to share the burden with you.

You manage to shake your head at him, signifying disapproval, but it seems he was not looking for advice, it was merely a look of remorse. He was just apologizing for something he was about to do.

Your shoulders slump in disappointment when Draco tears his gaze away from your own, he limps towards his parents, slowly, as if in a trance. 

“Well done, Draco, well done.” The Dark Lord embraces him stiffly for all to see, your jaw tightens when his stare lands on you.

Any fear you felt in that moment has been overshadowed by plain hot resentment.

“Y/n!” Your own father calls for you the same way, you can still feel the weight of everyone’s stare upon you as you refuse to budge.

“Y/n, come here, now.” Your mother warns, but it does nothing to convince you, if anything it has the opposite effect.

You feel Hermione’s hand slip into your own, motivating a streak of confidence.

“I am fine right where I am, mother.” You remark plainly, and you catch the way Voldermort clenches his pale gray hand into a fist for an instant before composing himself.

“Well, I must admit, y/n, I am very disappointed in you. I have no doubt your parents feel the same.” He states, and it works to gain a rise out of you.

However before you can retaliate with something reckless, Voldermort raises his wand to point it at you. “Crucio.”

The next thing you recall is the ground coming up to meet you, and trying to break your fall. A blinding pain that travels from your arm to the rest of your body.

Hermione is crouched over you as you continue to seize on the ground in sheer agony. 

“Stop it! Please, stop!” Your girlfriend's pleas fall on deaf ears.

You faintly hear Voldermort’s mocking laughter amidst your own gripes of pain. Certain you are about to faint, you clench your eyes tightly, but then, it all stops. 

Air violently floods your lungs, you feel the ground again, this time you recognize that you are laying firmly on top of it. You feel Hermione’s desperate hands clutching your body.

The Dark Lord looks upon horrified faces– he is using you as a warning. “I will say it again. Join us, else you will suffer a worse fate that y/n. So I invite you to step forward now.”

Hermione begins to help you back on your feet, but not before kissing your temple. She smoothes out your disheveled hair, a frantic effort to soothe you, or perhaps herself.

“Please tell me you're alright.” She pleads, an anguished whisper. You ignore the sharp pain still pulsating throughout your body to give Hermione some peace of mind.

“I am, I'll be fine.” You reply, taking her arm to resume your place.

Neville slips past you then, this sudden gesture is followed by a wave of gasps. 

You observed as he limped through the crowd and towards Voldermort, your brows furrowed in confusion.

Not Neville. Not him of all people. 

“I must say, I hoped for better.” Voldermort hurls the jibe, brusque and overconfident. The roar of laughter that comes from his followers only causes your scowl to deepen, it is a jarring noise, deeply unsettling.

“And who might you be, young man?” The Dark Lord asks, feigned geniality.

“Neville Longbottom.” Neville admits only for the laughter to come again. 

You shift your weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Hermione mistakes it for a sign you may collapse again so she moves closer, allowing you to lean on her; this only makes you want to weep. 

This isn't right. It was never supposed to happen like this.

“Well, Neville I am sure we can find you a place in our ranks–”

“–I'd like to say something!” Neville's voice bullies over Voldermort’s.

From the looks of it, this would nearly cost him his life, as Voldermort lifts his wand, almost like a reflex but he lowers it just as quickly.

With an air of composure, he responds, but his pretense is waning.

“Well, Neville, I am sure we are all fascinated to hear what you have to say.” Voldermort’s smile only makes him appear even more displeasing to the eye.

“It doesn't matter that Harry's gone.” Neville announces, and you instinctively look to the man in Hagrid’s arms.

This can't be the end.

Only half a heartbeat until you avert your gaze again.

“Stand down, Neville!” Seamus possesses enough gumption to warn his friend, but Neville brushes him off.

“People die everyday!” He insists.

“Friends, family..” Neville trails off.

Again, you feel compelled to keep Hermione close as you notice the way she has been pursing her lips to fight back more tears.

Ron can't seem to pull his eyes away from Hagrid, and his dead best friend.

“Yeah, we lost Harry tonight, but he's still with us, in here.” Neville continues, gesturing loosely to his chest, just above where his heart is.“So is Fred, Remus, and Tonks, all of them.”

“They didn't die in vain!” Neville shouts with a newfound confidence.

“But you will, because you're wrong!”

He challenges the Dark Lord, bold and open, and it makes you wince.

“Harry's heart did beat for us, for all of us!” He continues.

“So it's not over!” Neville exclaims, and the old hat he had been holding droops to the floor. Within it is revealed an unmistakable relic: the sword of Gryffindor.

He unsheathes the steel for all to see.

Then just as suddenly, the unthinkable happens. 

Harry slips out of Hagrid's hold, his body collapses to the ground, but he is not dead, he braces his hands on the ground before rising.

Harry Potter, alive.

“Merlin's beard..” You gape, and Hermione grasps your shoulder, then she laughs, shock and pure relief.

Harry sprints past the Dark Lord, quick, like a cat. He attempts to fish out Draco’s wand from his pocket but it slides past his fingers.

Harry isn't given the opportunity to retrieve it as he is forced to dodge the mania of curses being hurled his way. 

There is only chaos in the courtyard now as Death Eaters begin to disapparate by the dozen, abandoning their leader. 

Everyone else, desperately seeking shelter, out of the courtyard, back into the castle or elsewhere, anywhere away from harm. 

“Come on, we have to go.” Hermione drags you with her, but you turn back for a moment to watch as Draco bravely pushes past the chaos, picking up his wand, unbelievably, he tosses it back to Harry. 

“Potter!” Your best friend shouts just before you lose sight of him in the crowd. Although Harry catches the wand just in time.

“Confringo!” The Chosen One exclaims, Nagini writhes violently as the curse injures her.

The snake. You have to kill the snake.

Harry shares the sentiment as you get to the castle's doors, he falls in next to you, Ron and Hermione. “We need to kill the snake, I'll lure him into the castle.”

You merely nod in response, Harry continues to deflect the curses being hurled at the four of you.

“You'll need this.” Hermione says, retrieving the Basilisk fang from her bag.

The Dark Lord is rapidly inching closer now, fury has become him– yet he has never seemed so meek, utterly powerless.

He is losing, if he has not lost already.

Nagini is all he has left.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You anticipate it, but Hermione shoves you out of the way just in time as a mass of rubble comes crashing down from above.

You stumble, before coughing out a lung full of dust, squinting as it obstructs your vision. Hermione’s grip on your arm is the only thing tethering you to the present.

Harry bumps into you, just as disoriented. He has lost sight of Ron and worst of all, he can't see Voldermort. 

Another large crash causes you all to flinch, it didn't take long at all for the Dark Lord to find you once again.

Harry throws another curse, powerful enough that he loses his balance, the Basilisk fang unluckily slips out of his pocket, bouncing off the stairs and to the flat ground in front of you.

You reach for it, but before you can retrieve the object, the tooth disintegrates right before your eyes. 

“What–” You aren't given the chance to despair as Harry reminds you of an alternative.

“I’ll keep distracting him. Find Neville, he has the sword. Kill that snake.” He states, the sound of curses violently clashing masks his words, the Dark Lord remains oblivious to your plan, for now.

 “Let's try the Great Hall.” Hermione suggests.

“If we can even get there.” You quip, actively trying to work out a way through the rubble.

You follow after Hermione, and soon, Harry disappears through the thick wall of smoke and dust, purposefully luring Voldermort towards the Astronomy Tower.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Here, this way.” Hermione says as she steps through an opening and further down a flight of stairs.

Just when you both think you are out of danger, a noise stops you dead in your tracks.

You spot the large snake coiling around the bannister before slithering across a pile of bricks towards you.

Its hiss sends a shiver down your spine as you reach for your wand.

Hermione on the other hand, acts on pure instinct. Grabbing a piece of stone, she aims it at the snake.

It successfully clips Nagini on the side of her head, but this only succeeds in agitating the beast.

“Oh.” Hermione utters as the snake recoils, ready to attack.

You both lift your wands in preparation but the snake is hit again, this time by a larger curse that disorients it.

“Go on, I'm right behind you.” Ron emerges, 

pushing the both of you to continue on your search for the sword.

You only manage to get to the bottom of the stairs before Ron can be heard groaning in pain.

The snake had managed to trap him in its grasp, it was coiled around his body, an unsettling sight as it attempted to strangle the life out of him.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaims, chasing back up the stairs without a moment's thought.

“Stupefy!” She exclaimed, and the snake loosens its grip on Ron just enough for him to wretch free.

Hermione drags him to his feet and you can only watch in horror as the snake attempts to come at the both of them now.

“Incendio!” She tries again but the fire fizzles out as soon as it touches the beast, as if the snake was made of ice.

It is your turn to sprint up the stairs but the snake whips its head around, baring its fangs at you as warning. You halt abruptly, forced to keep a distance, grasping your wand tightly. 

Hermione shares a pleading look.

It is useless. There are three of you against Nagini, and yet you were helpless without the sword.

This is not going to work. The snake won't die. Distracting it will only mean seriously harming or even killing one of you.

Your mind reels, you frantically scan your surroundings, looking for a solution. 

Then, you are graced with a miracle. Neville appears behind you, barrelling up the stairs, panting, his face caked in dirt and dried blood. He has the sword of Gryffindor in hand.

Hermione let's out another scream that snatches your attention, the snake has attempted to come at them again, and again, Ron has now resulted in shielding your girlfriend with his own body.

You have to kill it now.

As you take another step, Nagini shifts her point of attack, now preparing to lunge towards you.

“Y/n– here!” With only seconds to spare, Neville tosses the steel in your direction. You quickly drop your wand before you manage to catch the sword by the hilt, still unaccustomed to its weight, you grasp it with two hands.

Just like handling a beater's bat, you swing it, firm and hard, slicing the beast across its body mid-air.

There is no blood, instead the snake explodes into a rain of thin black ash, it is unlike anything you have ever seen before. It is all you can look at as you let the point of the sword fall by your feet.

For a while all you can hear is the clang of metal hitting the ground and a faint ringing in your ears, muffled by the sound of your own heavy breathing. 

Neville's touch on your shoulder snaps you out of a trance. “It's over, it's done.” 

Enough sense returns to you as you shift your gaze towards Hermione. Her expression mirrors your own.

The four of you are miraculously alive, and the snake is dead.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

In the aftermath, it did not take much convincing for you to agree to join Hermione, Harry and Ron for a walk along the bridge.

Thankful for fresh air, the afternoon sun was also a welcomed feeling upon your skin, for the first time in days, it felt like you could breathe.

As Hermione struts ahead, you manage to grab ahold of her arm, forcibly tugging her closer to your own body. 

She then lets out a noise in surprise once you capture her lips with your own, but she melts into the kiss just as quickly, your hand slips to the small of her back as she opens her mouth wider to welcome your tongue.

You continue like that without care for a while, until Ron deliberately interrupts your moment by verbalizing his thoughts.

“Bloody hell, give it a rest, you two.” He remarks, but his tone lacks its usual malice as he clears a path by kicking away pieces of rubble. 

You grimace as you feel Hermione pull away from embarrassment.

“Fuck off, Weasley.” You retaliate, and for reasons unbeknownst to you, the sound of Ron's laughter makes you smile.

You part Hermione’s hair away from her neck, tilting your head slightly to leave a trail of open mouthed kisses along her neck.

She smells like sweat– but, in truth, it has never been an unpleasant scent to you. Nothing about Hermione was ever unpleasant.

Even now, sleep deprived and unwashed, she was perfect.

You notice the way Hermione trembles at the sensation of your warm mouth upon her flesh.

It only works to entice you further, but before you can kiss her again, Hermione displays some semblance of self control. 

She braces her hands on your chest, shoving you lightly. “Not here.”

With a pout you meet her gaze and she only rolls her eyes at that, before rewarding you with a quick peck on the lips. 

“We both could use a bath later.” Hermione mutters suggestively, running her fingers through your hair.

A smirk tugs on your lips at that, but before you can retort with something clever, Hermione's gaze shifts to Harry.

The Chosen One stood at the edge of the bridge, where there was once a bannister, now just a stump of concrete and marble.

Harry is observing the wand in his hand as Hermione addresses him. “How come it didn't work for him, The Elder Wand?”

“It answered to somebody else.” Harry replies, turning to look at the three of you.

“When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his. but the thing is, the wand never belonged to Snape.”

“It was Draco, who disarmed Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower, from that moment on, the wand answered him.” Harry explains, looking down to inspect it once more.

“Until, the other night, when I disarmed Draco at Malfoy Manor.” He continues and your eyes widen at the realization.

“So that means–” You gape, and Hermione turns to you in disbelief.

Harry nods. “It's mine.” He states, nonchalant as ever.

“What should we do with it?” Ron inquires, and Hermione merely grimaces.

“We?” She scolds.

“Ron's right, I mean, that's the Elder Wand. Most powerful in the world, with that, you'd be invisible.” You remark in support, now Hermione directs her scowl towards you, and you shrug innocently.

Although your expression twists once your gaze flits to Harry once again, he grunts as he struggles to break the wood in half.

You advanced forward to intervene, but it was too late. The wand snaps in two, like a twig. 

Harry turns around, chucking pieces of the most powerful wand in existence off the edge of the bridge.

You chase after it as far as your eyes can see before it disappears, forever.

“What the fuck–” Ron mutters under his breath in shared disbelief, yet Hermione only watches the both of you with amusement.

Then she grabs you by the collar, dragging you away from the ledge.

You are forced to follow as she falls in next to Harry, strolling back to the castle. 

Resisting the urge to confront Harry about what he had just done, you drape an arm across Hermione's shoulder, she welcomes it, intertwining your hands as you walked.

“I'm starving.” Ron remarks, trailing behind you. An effort to shift to a different, much simpler topic of conversation. 

“So am I.” Hermione replies.

“Yeah.. reckon The Three Broomsticks are still open?” You joke, and Harry is first to laugh, followed by your girlfriend and eventually, Ron.

You allow yourself a smile, it is one of relief. You relish in a careless joy you once thought you'd never get to experience again.

[lunarfeat21]

Sparkling Shakedown

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Chapter three: The Sparkling Palooza

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“Awww, she’s so cute!” Slipstream whispered as he quietly slid next to his companion holding the sparkling as ‘she’ cooed.

“It really brings tears to my eyes.” Denny sniffed as Russell patted his father’s back, but was also in tears at this special moment.

Others approached Bumblebee and Drift, met with the same, joyous reaction as Slipstream did, and one by one picked a sparkling out of the pod. 

A grand total of six sparklings are put in a very spacious bathtub as a temporary crib, and each is more diverse than the other.

One is a smaller and younger version of a Chompazoid, the main color is a dusty light blue with a darker color variation in certain platings, a grayish bright throat and also with a teal color optics. 

Next to the Chompazoid as its companions are snoozing, three little bots are confirmed to be car alts due to their small doorwings and are different from one to another. 

The first is a sleek lambo sunning herself, her warm cream orange paint job against the sunlight added wonder to it before yawning and rolling front side. It turns out, it’s a femme as well with little lashes on each optic, on top of the helm sports out the common headpiece of a pair of horns. The underparts and sides are a subtle dark purple and indigo, on top of that, the biolight of the sparkling is a strong turquoise.

“Look at her!” Sideswipe whispered excitedly as he pointed at the snoozer, which made Strongarm rolled her optics “She’s gonna be an awesome speedster under my wing!”

The rest couldn’t help but chuckle at Sideswipe’s little rambling, Strongarm noticed the second sleeping sparkling next to the femme.

Next to her, a little mech with seafoam green and a deep shade of periwinkle blue, shuffled a bit before settling back down again. His horns are a fuchsia red color along with other parts, plus a similar shade of indigo in the underparts as the femme. Biolights are also turquoise.

Strongarm couldn’t help but smile, the little mech vaguely resembled her, not only faded facial features, but also the alt as it turns out the little mech is going to be a pickup truck. 

Once the sparklings wake up, she’s immediately naming that mech ‘Nightro’. A mocking version of Nightra, her ex friend’s name. 

‘Is this out of sheer pettiness?’ Strongarm thought as she walked away to somewhere, probably thinking to herself if this even moral to begin with and the team will not stop her.

Bumblebee giggled when Fixit told him a cheesy, but hilarious joke as he and Bumblebee laughed. The laughter, though not quite loud, but was enough to cause the last sparkling to slightly stirred and started to fuss over the noise.

The two noticed and abruptly stopped, Bumblebee proceeded to walk over and picked the sparkling up as he swayed the fusser. 

The third sparkling is a copper rose mech, with matte accents of the same color in the underparts, shining bronze at the tip of the doorwings, edges of the helm, and the tips of his tiny servos. The helm is smooth and round, counting for two pieces of the helm shot out from the back with a split middle that formed in the shape of a smooth diamond. It had no horns or any other helm accessories, with the exception of a small row of three-to-ten diamond shapes repeating from big to small on the two helm pieces.

On the grayish faceplace, with a weird dark marking on the corner of the upper left faceplate, almost like a small heart shaped smudge. Bumblebee lightly traced the outline of the mark.

The fussing lessened and Bumblebee put the sparkling back to its spot, the tyke was content and went back to whatever pleasant dreamland.

After setting the copper rose sparkling down, the Minicon sparkling from earlier was sat beside another sparkling. 

To the team’s bewildered surprise, mainly Bumblebee’s, is that the last sparkling is a Wolficon pup. A much smaller, younger version of a certain grown silver tongued Wolficon.

Except for the bluish tones and yellow optics, this pup had a reddish buff color as the main. On top of that, from helm to tail, there some grayish faded patches with two different spots. One are tiny dark brown dots scattering across the hide with white tear like dots.

The upper calves, torso, ears, and faceplate had an almost pure white with a mixed light cream. Some had the little brown spots, but a very few.

 A noticeable feature on the faceplate, specifically the left side on the corner of the orange optic, is a black dot, like one of the white dots inverted and fell to the spot.

They initially thought the youngster was infected with cosmic rust, due to the rustic coloring and grayish patch. Fixit later examines the youngling and turns out he’s not.

In fact, Fixit checked all the sparklings and they’re healthy.

That brought a huge comfort for Bumblebee, the sparklings are healthy and are no way damaged or harmed from whatever they came.

However, there is a little dread in his processor as he sought the sleeping sparklings. He doesn't know what it is, but he had a hunch that something terrible is brewing out there, watching them probably as everyone else is in their own worlds.

—------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wolficon froze with ears still, grinning from the intel he gathered. This would be excellent, he didn’t care if the others couldn’t agree and nag at him.

“Fellas,” the leader began as he walked away from their spot, which made the other members follow suit,  and headed towards the opposite direction to the wilderness “let’s return and rest.”

“Well finally!” Underbite exclaimed then yawned. As tired as he was, nor the type asking questions, Uderbite couldn’t help but ask what Steeljaw heard, since he became quiet after the weird beam died down. “Wait, what did you hear in that junky slagged place, Steeljaw?”

The rest shifted their gaze at Steeljaw as he transformed into his car alt mode, which the rest did as well. That’s a really good question, as it excited Steeljaw.

“That is something that you had to see for yourself tomorrow, brother.”

Is the last word before he drives off with others in tow, back to their hideout to rest.

‘And,’ his processor whispered, ‘This is what I need for my Empire; the youth is the lifeblood of every group, nation, and world; large or small. These sparklings, under my care, are the future, and heirs of my dream. My dream of a Decepticon homeworld.’

┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆

[The Beginning] | [Chapter four]

[cyberrat]

78th Batch Of Fics: 6th Fill

Fisherman – Dredge – Part ½ – mild horror; aberration; aberration fucking; Dead Dove Do Not Eat – The Fisherman has arrived at Twisted Strands. By now he is starting to get really corrupted by his experiences.

---

The fisherman is staring into the wild jungle of the Twisted Strands until his aching eyes finally remind him to blink. He’s been docked just next to the traveling merchant for a few hours, he realizes when his head turns as if on creaking hinges to stare at the setting sun.

He could have sworn it had just been a second since stopping and staring to take in the odd beauty of the environment.

A shiver travels through his body and he finally lurches into action, getting ready to do what he has come to do.

Fish.

He can feel the traveling merchant’s eyes on him. She is standing leaning against the home she made herself on there, and while she is not trying to talk to him, he can tell that she wants to caution him just like everybody else.

Take some rest. Get some sleep. Eat.

Get some sleep. That does not sound too bad at all; he can’t remember the last time he slept. Whenever he puts his head down on the console of his ship, all he can hear is the water lapping against her metal hull.

He lowers the trawl, then sits down at the helm, intent on just checking out the perimeter of the location for now. Maybe he can see any points of interest from the outside. He can also get a grip on the fish that populate these waters.

Before his… short… stop to stare into the wilderness, the sun had still been high enough for him to make out thick, gnarly roots in the shallows, quickly vanishing in the blackness of the deep.

Remembering this, he gets up once more to point his light more directly at the water. He will have to be careful.

He leaves his anchor spot without a word to the merchant, guiding his ship slowly along the edges of Twisted Strand, hands curled tightly around the rudder as he leans forward, peering intently through the windows.

He can feel the net filling up fish by fish. The net is him. The fish are trapped inside his chest, filling his insides with their cold, wriggling bodies. They pull on him. They try to drag him away from the helm but he only grabs it harder and leans in closer until his breast is pressed against its hard surface, his heart beating in his ears fast and strong.

He can feel his strings starting to fray and finds himself thinking that he will have to let himself get fixed by the merchant once he returns to her. Lying on an icy table with her thick sewing needle poised above his ribcage-

The net is him.

Until he feels it joining the fray of writhing bodies. The sensation rushing through his body is both nauseating and exhilarating. He stops the motor but keeps the light on. There is mist wafting across the still waters and he does not trust it one bit.

There are eyes hidden in its depths.

The Fisherman slowly uncurls himself from his position. His chest is aching, the helm having been imprinted into his flesh. On legs stiff as boards, he makes his way outside and pauses briefly to stare intently out into the darkness of the night.

There are odd lights occasionally flashing or hovering patiently in the distance. To his tired brain they look like welcoming havens of peace and calm – but the Fisherman knows better.

He makes himself turn away, his fist slamming down on a button that has the trawl net start to lift. A few fish manage to wiggle their way out from the bulging mass inside the net, slipping back into the darkness of the sea, never to be seen again.

They don’t know that being fished by him is a mercy. A sweet, quick death compared to what lies below for them.

He stares at the writhing mass of glistening bodies trapped inside the trawl net. He can feel something similar winding through his brain. He briefly thinks of the dock worker he left behind in Little Marrow, though the image of his gray, slack face sinks back into obscurity before he can really grasp it.

Led by intuition, the Fisherman thrusts his arm into the mass of fish. He does not need to search for what he is looking for. The thing he caught has as tight a grip on him as he does on it when his fingers close around a squishy lump. The flesh is so soft, it is starting to give way to the pressure of his blunt fingers around it.

He jerks his arm back out of the pile and stares at the creature in his hand. It is bigger than the weight would suggest. He has to hold it on both palms to not have the flesh sloth off its bones entirely.

Just like any other of those… things, this one is dead immediately, though its body still… quivers.

The Fisherman turns toward the meager light coming from the small lamp he attached to the back of his cabin, examining the thing in its greasy glow. He can’t tell what fish it might have been once upon a time. The poor creature’s flesh has been bloated into a soft, unrecognizable shape. He is barely even certain which direction is up and which is down.

Shifting it slowly in his hands, the Fisherman watches as the pulsing, soft flesh begins to open up all over the fish’s body. Cold drips down his spine and creeping into his limbs.

A part of him is screaming in horror but for the most part he just feels… calm. Curious.

He waits to see what will happen. For eyes to appear behind the fleshy lips that have opened up, or maybe gnashing mouths to be revealed… but there is nothing. Only warm, squelching darkness as the corpse keeps undulating and moving as if it were alive.

The flesh is like an entity all on its own. Maybe it is the entity to begin with. An odd mass that has simply engulfed its host and used it to travel through the cold waters.

The Fisherman’s body rocks back and forth slowly, eyes mesmerized with the wet glistening surface of the aberration as the orange light of the lamp glances off of its body. The fleshy lips that have appeared all over its body are slowly opening and closing like gasping mouths.

He shifts onto his heels, lifting the thing higher. He can’t help his morbid curiosity, holding the drooping flesh on one palm so he can carefully round one of the openings with two fingers, testing the rubbery-silky texture of the bulging flesh.

He slowly spreads the opening apart and peers inside where only a glistening, oily darkness stares back at him.

There is a slowly dawning horror creeping through the Fisherman’s slowly pulsing brain – but there is also lust curling around the base of his dick in a tightly wound grasp.

His blunt fingertip slowly rounds the very edge of the opening, teasing it as one would a lover. He can’t remember the last time he had one. When was the last time he-

Then he hears her voice. Whispering into his ear. A lance of pain shoots through his body and ramming itself into the base of his skull. The Fisherman’s face twists in agony. He doubles over but does not let the aberration fall to the deck of his ship. He keeps it hugged against his abdomen.

The pain is gone as quickly as it has come, leaving him gasping and weak. The ensuing emptiness filled with more of her wordless whispers and an unholy lust crawling through his abdomen.

[overtime-city-works]

War against the world Part 2

Izuku, Shoto and Mei are now on ‘The Dragon chaser’. Now all they need to do is lay low until they can get back on land, but the crew have other plans. 

Chapter 1

cw: Swearing, fighting, mentions of kidnapping, gore 

Word count:  8,197 

The ringing of distant bells and creaking wood woke Izuku from his dreamless sleep. 

His brow furrowed at the hard press of a headache behind his eyes. The light seemed to be searing into him. He struggled to his feet, stumbled half asleep to the window and blindly reached out to somehow find something to stop the light. Izuku's wandering hand found something dangling from the window, and when he pulled it down from the hook and placed it under a book, the pain eased and he could finally open his eyes. Now away from the sun, Izuku could see the thing causing the light to become so sharp. 

It was a glass orb, with more glass twisted around it in a criss cross pattern and several teardrop shapes hung from a thin cord of red string. In the teardrops was a fine deep blue powder. He turned it over gently, it seemed to be some kind of talisman. 

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Lady Mei said brightly behind him. 

Izuku jumped. He'd been so wrapped up in removing the source of his discomfort he hadn't noticed the Prince and Lady Mei rousing also. 

"It's nothing, my apologies. Let us go eat." 

Luckily he'd stepped back over to Prince Shoto and had his back turned while Mei investigated the object. It would be inevitable with her never ending curiosity, he could hear her muttering to herself about its purpose and origins, and the light filtering through didn't seem to bother her as he helped Prince Shoto rebraid his hair. Even with his back turned he could feel the heat of it on him when Lady Mei held it back up to the sun. 

"Is everything ok Izuku?" his Prince asked. 

Izuku nodded, because how could he explain that the light had caused him pain? 

Thankfully, Lady Mei had replaced the hanging ornament in the window without breaking it. Then it was time to swiftly inform the Lady on what had been happening. To Izuku’s dismay, Mei didn’t seem perturbed when she heard about what the Captain had done. 

“There have been a few men that have come to my home who needed the same treatment,” she said in a voice more somber than her usual excited tone. “I am not as kind as the other maidens.” 

It was then that Izuku was reminded that Mei had not grown up in the safety of one of the rich houses like other ladies; the shrine where they had found her before their quest had been out of the way in the countryside. Izuku didn’t really know anything about the Lady, just that she had been said to be incredibly important in helping them get to their purpose. For a moment, Izuku couldn’t help but think of the worst before Mei smiled. 

“This ship is good,” she said as she thumped the wall of the ship with her fist. “There’s something about it, something good drawn to it. Like I sensed in you two.” 

As usual, Mei’s sure words made Izuku feel better. He felt better enough that he was starting to get hungry. “Let’s go. I’m sure if we wait anymore there won’t be anything left for us and it’s important you two eat.” 

He led them from the cabin out onto the sunny, noisy deck, and shielded his eyes from the early morning sun.

The salty sea spray felt almost magical on his skin as they walked, he no longer felt sick. For a moment he let himself really look out to the sea and watch the wispy clouds ahead. The endless water was almost the same color as the sky, it truly was more magnificent that he could have imagined. The air seemed to have a different quality, as if all of his burdens had been lifted just an inch so that they were not so heavy on his shoulders.

There were a few members of the crew on deck, but he could hear the raucous noise below on the mess deck. At the helm of the ship above the Captain’s quarters, he spotted a man so built he seemed to be as wide as the huge wooden wheel that no doubt steered the ship. He wore traditional Japanese dress, though the style was old as if it had been passed down to him from a grandparent but his sleeves had been cut right at the shoulders. Izuku could only see his watchful eyes, the rest of his face was covered in a light grey mask. 

To his surprise, the man nodded. Izuku nodded back respectfully. 

“My word, he’s built like an ox,” Lady Mei whispered hoarsely behind him. 

He looked at her, scandalised that she’d describe someone like that out loud, and of course Shoto had the small crinkle to his eyes that meant he was amused and trying not to say it. 

“Don’t be rude,” Izuku chastised as they descended down the wooden steps to the lower deck.

“I wasn’t! He has a marvellous physique, perfect for that job, I would like to ask him how he got so...”  

“Manly?” Eijiro suddenly appeared as if he’d grown out of the wood and this time he wore a tunic with sleeves that were bunched around his wrists, frilly. The same type as the Captain's. “If you’re talking about the helmsman.” 

Izuku nodded. 

“He is,” exclaimed Mei. 

Eijiro laughed, then he gestured over to the benches where the crew were still eating. 

“No one really knows. Mezo’s real quiet about his story. We don’t mind ‘cause he's as soft as anything.”

The three of them squeezed onto the bench, and were passed a heaping bowl of steaming white food. It smelled foreign, but had a slightly nutty taste, and Izuku found he was far more hungry than he first realised. Out of habit he took a spoonful of the Prince’s food before passing the bowl back. 

“Is it to your taste?” he whispered to Shoto. 

The Prince nodded wordlessly, and Izuku was content with that. Just that he was eating it, slowly but surely, was a good enough sign for him. 

The people closest asked them where they came from, and to Izuku, the boisterous shouting, questions asked while chewing food, and slight shoving every time someone moved was almost comforting. By the time breakfast was over, Izuku was sure he was bombarded with the introduction of at least six other crew members—though it was very hard to keep track of them all. 

Afterwards, Eijiro took them aside to see where they would be sent on the ship for the time they remained on it. While they were asked questions, the crew were busy pushing aside the benches and clearing up the wooden dishes from the meal with a quick pace as if they expected to be attacked at any moment.  

In the paths of light from the cracks in the deck above, Izuku could see people laying in hammocks that hung from the ceiling, one of them was in a shaded area out of the way, swathed up to his nose in black material.  

Curiously sat upon his chest was a small black bird; it seemed quite content to simply lay on him. Curious, very curious.  He sneaked a glance at Prince Shoto, and was baffled to see that he had a small upturn to his mouth. 

"You three. What are your skills?" 

Mei butted in first, announcing that she wanted to work with the gunners and she didn't mind getting her hands dirty. Izuku almost protested, but saw the animalistic look in her eye when she got excited about something and decided against it. Even Eijiro didn’t protest. 

"Anywhere you need us I'm sure we can help," Prince Shoto said politely. 

One of the crew nearby had snorted at that. 

"Really? We've only got one powder boy if you're desperate I'm sure he'd like some company." Over on the other side was another lithe man like Yuga who had been sweeping the deck. He wore traditional clothing, there was a black bandana around his head, his feet were bare, and a sly smirk stretched his lips. 

 A bushy haired woman next to him snickered as she worked on some sort of figurine, a sharp knife cut the edges. 

“Fuck off Denki." Eijiro sighed, then gave them an apologetic look. "You said you worked in an eatery?" 

"Yes," Shoto said. 

“OK. You two can be with Rikado until we reach Ama Island, and Mei...you’ll have to go and get Fumi the Master gunner.” Eijiro pointed over to the crew member with the bird. He looked peaceful, that was until Lady Mei went rushing over to the resting man and demanding he show her the canons. The bird squawked and flapped up against the ceiling, and the poor man almost fell out of the hammock. 

“She’s like a typhoon,” Izuku muttered, and Eijiro laughed good naturedly.

At the back of the ship was an area for cooking, and by a large pot hanging by chains to the ceiling was Rikado. He was inspecting an array of tubes with different coloured powders, next to him sat a small barrel that had a yellow coloured powder that smelt odd. But it was something that made Izuku almost hungry once again. 

"Rikado, hope you don't mind a couple of helpers until we reach the Island," Eijiro greeted lightly as he held his arm up and lent on the beam next to them. He was still shirtless. 

"No, but I'm sure I don't get a choice." The man looked up and smiled jovially despite his words.

The Quartermaster then turned to them and looked more serious. 

"So uh, both watches night and day have food together at six bells, Mezo is the one that rings it. Make sure not to be late or Tsu will poison you." 

The grin only made that half as dangerous. 

"Any supplies you need just see me and I'll sort it out," Rikado interjected, gesturing to the array of powders. 

"And Tenya Iida—the purser. Unfortunately unlike what Rikado over here thinks, we don't have a unlimited supply of money—" 

"Sure we do! We just let the ladies have you and we're rich!" came the shout to their left once again. 

"I swear, you get back up on that rigging Denki or I'm letting Ochako know it was you who stole her underwear!" Eijiro fired back, though there was a good natured grin on his face. 

Denki gasped, looking extremely affronted and placed a hand on his chest. "You wouldn't! She'd never let me down from the Mizzen again. Fuck you, it wasn't even me." 

"Who cares, she'd believe me," Eijiro flipped Denki off. 

"Yeah only because of favouritism." Denki stuck out his tongue before bounding up the stairs to the main deck. 

"Anyway," Eijiro said as he looked at Izuku again, "one more thing. The most important thing. No one gets any special treatment, no extra rations or spices or specific cuts of meat, nada. Not me, not the rest of the crew, not even the Captain. He'd actually throw you off the ship if you tried. We're all equal here." 

"Understood," Shoto said next to him. 

"Great!" Eijiro grinned. "I'll leave you to it" 

With that the quartermaster walked off, and he and Shoto were left in Rikado's company. The cook, even though he wasn’t intimidating to Izuku, was interesting in his own right. 

Rikado was quite open, open enough to tell them he’d had to run away after being falsely accused of poisoning his Master’s food. His little sister had come with him and even told them she was waiting for him in Tottori. He talked while they helped him wash rice and boiled it. He carried on talking while they peeled potatoes, and he scolded Denki for coming back for a second apple. 

There was a quiet moment. While Rikado and Shoto were talking about rationing and what food supplies they'd need, Izuku wandered off in search of more secrets. He wanted to know this ship from mast to the very wood if Prince Shoto truly wanted to stay here. He also desired to know why Shoto would pick this ship in the first place. 

He found nothing unusual for a pirate ship at first. However, in the back of the stores between the barrels and a near empty sack of rice was something that caught his eye. Izuku leaned forward—forced onto his tiptoes to reach it—and to his delight he pulled out a bow. 

It was well made, from a wood that allowed the user a light, powerful strike. Nothing like the stiff, formal designs of the bows at the Palace. After a quick glance around, Izuku ran his fingers along the string and found it to be in good condition. He lifted it, and with his right hand hooked his fingers onto the string and tested the strength. It was easy to manoeuvre, well used, and well taken care of. He wondered who on earth on this ship would have something like this. It was truly a beautifully crafted weapon. 

Upon further investigation, he found a leather bundle, and inside found nine arrows, all with the feather of a crow. Interesting. He was inspecting the sharp, serrated edges of the arrows when he heard Rikado call for him. Carefully but quickly, Izuku wrapped up the arrows once again and placed them with the bow back between the barrels and made his way back out into the lighter area. 

“Go and take this up to the Captain,” Rikado said as he held out two onigiri wrapped in the seaweed they’d just made. 

For a moment Izuku hesitated, but then mustered his courage. He nodded and took the food. Izuku made his way back up the steps onto the Main deck and shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked around for the Captain. 

The man who’d murdered over twenty people just the night before was stood by the helm. Izuku could tell he was conversing with Mezo, but when they approached up the steps he turned to them, his face expectant. To Izuku’s surprise Yuga was also at the helm deck, sitting on the thick wooden railing with back to a piece of wood that stuck up. He held a map. When he saw Izuku approach, he waved good naturedly. Izuku waved a little back.

“Captain,” Izuku started. 

Captain Bakugo turned, and fixed him with a questioning look before he looked down at the food that he held out. 

“Ah...Rikado’s babying me again.” The Captain grinned before taking the onigiri.

“Only because you won’t remember to eat unless someone brings it to you—despite what you preach about meals—you're not as bad as Hitoshi though,”  Yuga piped up, and didn’t even flinch when the Captain sent him a warning glare. 

 “Tell Rikado I can get it myself,” he said as he addressed Izuku again.

“Rikado says that you’re welcome.” 

Captain Bakugo rolled his eyes, and Yuga laughed where he sat, then they became focused on their work once again. 

“You’re dismissed for food as well, Kyoto.”

Izuku nodded and walked over to where Prince Shoto and Lady Mei stood at the left hand side of the ship in the corner next to the Navigator’s room’s window. Izuku was quickly learning that with a crew of twenty and three levels you had to fit yourself into spaces before other people could. 

Izuku bit into his onigiri and found it pleasantly edible. The vegetables he and Shoto had prepared themselves made it even more filling, and whatever powder Rikado had added made it taste even better. The Lady Mei had smudged powder on her forehead, she’d folded down the top of her kimono for comfort, and was already looking like a part of the crew. 

“The guns they have on this ship are fascinating. They have a completely different system to the Japanese army. Fumi was explaining they took the ship all the way back near a place called the Bahamas! Can you imagine going that far? The craftsmanship of  the guns are insane, they’re heavy to move, but such a beauty—”

Lady Mei suddenly leapt onto the rigging at the right hand side of the ship to look behind them. She was shading her eyes, and whipped her head up to the Captain; eyes wide in alarm. 

“Captain!” she yelled. “We’ve got a ship six hundred yards ahead of us!” 

“What the fuck? How’d she see that?” a shout came above him. 

Izuku looked up to see another of the rigging crew. A woman with a long bob held back by a pink slash of fabric—again in the same foreign clothing as the men. Izuku looked up to the helm to see the Captain pull out a large gold telescope, and Izuku and all the rest of the crew awaited his verdict. Surely, they wouldn’t attack? 

“He can’t be thinking of attacking can he? Aren’t we close to Tottori?” Shoto whispered to him. He sounded disbelieving too. 

“Naval flag! Get into your positions!” the Captain yelled. 

Izuku’s heart dropped to his stomach and he looked to his Prince. They had just begun their journey, he was not letting anything happen to them despite their need to get to the stars. If they died, or if they got caught by the Military, then it would be the end of it. Izuku wanted to hide both of his charges in the hold. 

“That’s the ship that has Hitoshi on it, we need to take her." Izuku heard Denki's voice from above. He  looked up to the rigging to see the man climb down from the rigging for a moment, and drop onto the deck in front of him.

"What if we get hurt, or if one of the men dies? We're getting close to Tottori, yes?" Izuku asked. 

Denki looked serious, and the rigger looked up to the Captain who stood looking as though he knew all of the world’s secrets. “I tell you not one of us has died since we joined. Not a single one.” 

Izuku found that extremely hard to believe, but the resoluteness with which Denki said those words was almost intimidating. He knew that Denki felt about Captain Bakugo the way he felt about Shoto. Plus, the determination they had to get their navigator back was admirable.

So, Izuku took a deep breath and looked at Shoto. At times it was difficult to tell what he was thinking, but Izuku could see the tenseness of his shoulders. 

“You’re not a sworn-in crew member, if you want to be safer I’d head down to the third deck where Koji is,” Denki added, before someone shouted at him and he leapt back up onto the rigging and climbed the ropes with ease. 

That information made Izuku feel a lot better, and he immediately began to guide Shoto down to safety. He could tell that Shoto wanted to fight, and wanted to prove he could be an asset.

“This isn’t a battle we need to get involved in. You need to be safe if we’re to make sure everyone can live,” he said in a low voice, as every crew member was bustling about. 

“I understand that more than anyone Izu...and I will stay down there, but it will take both of us to bring the Lady down there also.” 

Shit. Izuku had forgotten that. They hurried over to where Mei had seemingly sworn herself into the crew by aiding the riggers. How a lady could move with such agility he didn’t know. 

“Time?” the Quartermaster shouted as he practically leapt up the steps to the helm where Captain Bakugo stood with Mezo.

“We need to gain speed or we won’t match them!” Mei suddenly shouted amongst the noise. 

"Don't order me about!" a crew member shouted back.

The sea was loud, crew were rushing around, heaving the ropes and completing tasks that Izuku had no idea the meaning behind. He saw men and women pulling ropes, and he heard the sails above him groan in the wind as they were pulled forcefully open; the wind picked up as they surged forward. 

“Are all the sails fully open? What about the T’gallants?!” the Captain shouted. 

“You know what happens if she’s pushed too far Captain and you shouldn’t risk raising the T’gallants,” called a woman with bouncy black hair hair. In a traditional men’s kimono, she wore a bright blue sash across her waist and was holding a bucket, and attached to it was a small turn with rope wound around it. Under her arm she held a large hourglass.

“Tohru’s right, Captain.” From above, the short haired woman climbed down the rigging and slung the rope she wore around her waist over her shoulder. 

To Izuku's surprise, Tohru shoved the rope, bucket, and hour glass into his hands and he was ordered to follow her. He scurried after her and watched as the lithe, adept woman climbed down the rope ladder on the side of the ship unaffected by the whipping wind and sea spray as she balanced on a tiny ledge and held onto the rope ladder with one hand. 

“Leave the bucket on the deck and pass me down the rope and chip log!” 

Oh, Izuku knew then what she wanted to do. Izuku tossed down the chip log and Tohru caught it expertly. Izuku knew that there would be knots tied in regular intervals along the rope and when he called the time on an hourglass, Tohru would count the knots that had passed the ship’s stern: the back of the ship. 

Izuku flipped the hourglass as Tohru tossed the triangular wood into the sea, it immediately whipped behind them in the water and the rope turned faster than he could keep up with. As soon as the minute was up, he called the time and Tohru gripped the rope with the knot just below her hand. 

“Speed, six nauts!” she shouted. 

“Six nauts Captain!” Izuku relayed behind him. 

“We can push her harder, Ochako the back sails will hold it,” Captain Bakugo said. 

“Captain, even if the other sails hold we’ll end up running her down at the bow and go face first into the water or just have the whole rigging crew fall off the sides of the ship!” Ochako exclaimed, she looked close to pulling out her hair already. 

“I don’t really feel like drowning today,” Tohru called up. 

Izuku, despite the severity of the situation, couldn’t help but feel amusement at the sigh in Tohru’s voice, as if this situation had happened before. 

“Drowning would not be fun, especially if it's just us.” Ochako had reached Izuku’s level and was currently winding rope around his and Shoto’s waists. Izuku found they were being tied to the side of the ship. 

“Raise the T’gallants,” he ordered. 

Izuku’s eyes widened as Ochako just rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath how lucky Hitoshi was. 

Below him, Tohru made a sound of frustration. Ochako rolled her eyes but then it looked as though she took a deep breath and shouted to the crew up in the rigging to raise them. High, high above, the smaller sail above the Mizzen main sail was dropped. Immediately Izuku had to hold onto the side as the ship creaked and rocked. He looked down, and thankfully Tohru was OK. 

The ship suddenly jolted, and Izuku didn’t hesitate before reaching over and pulled Tohru into his side as they were sent crashing face down into one of the waves. The men were calling, pulling ropes as the sea spat furiously at them as they tried to level out the creaking body that was fighting to stay stable. Shoto was gripping onto the wooden edge of the deck behind him and Izuku was amazed that Ochako had even thought about the bumbling newcomers at a time like that. 

“Brace up! Bring her into the waves!” He heard the Captain shout, and then the faint yell of Eijiro copying the order. 

Izuku couldn’t breathe deeply because of the amount of salt attacking his lungs. Tohru had wriggled from his grasp and was now stumbling over to another crew member with flat hair. 

To his left, as the ship bucked and lowered like a horse, Captain barked at Mezo to put his full strength behind it and the large man yanked the wheel with all his strength. He turned and turned and seemed to fight against the very sea itself when he held the wheel in position. Finally the ship seemed to surge up and level out once again on the waves. 

“Speed?” The Captain shouted. 

Tohru was sprinting over and almost jumping into the sea before Izuku could react. She expertly slung out the chip log, and Izuku scrambled to set the timer once again. Like before he called the minute. 

Tohru laughed. 

“Seven nauts!” she yelled, and there was a chorus of cheers across the ship. 

At that speed the navy ship was coming into focus faster than Izuku thought was possible. The wind was whipping his hair around his face. He helped Tohru back over the side—and since he deemed his job done, he undid the ropes to go and get Lady Mei.

Mei was still watching the ship ahead, and she’d been gathering intel with the aid of the Captain’s very own telescope. It wasn’t until perhaps two minutes later that Mei climbed down from the rigging and headed towards the Captain, and where Mei went, Izuku went as he was responsible for her. 

“The man who Captains that ship has a stern that holds the carving of the moon, the second flag they fly also has an embroidered silver moon and a yellow sun,” she announced, voice grave.

Izuku looked at Shoto in absolute disbelief. He couldn’t believe their misfortune. Shoto stiffened, and it seemed that the rest of the men did not understand the implications of who was Captaining the ship...all except the Captain.

“It was a possibility they’d use a royal flagship to get him to Tokyo but I was hoping they wouldn’t make it so hard, fuck,” Eijiro said, voice harsh. 

“A Royal with just one symbol would be a military yes...but with both the symbols it means something more surely,” Shoto said, his voice carefully blank. 

Izuku realised that they both had to somehow convey their information without revealing their identity. 

"Higher than that?" Yuga asked incredulously. 

"The Emperor's personal fleet," came a deep, scratchy voice behind them. 

Izuku turned to see Mezo had looked over at their words. 

Eijiro’s mouth dropped open. Yuga let out a litany of swears as he slumped against the back of the ship.

“Why on earth would they hold Hitoshi with other high personnel?” Eijiro asked, his voice incredulous. 

“I think the better question is what did he do to make them put with the highest security?” Yuga rolled his eyes. 

“Did you see the Captain?” Shoto asked Lady Mei. 

The Lady revealed to them that he had worn a Yellow kimono with a red belt, was stocky, and had a katana with the head of a water dragon. Izuku would know that uniform anywhere, he’d seen it multiple times when the Emperor’s men sent them messages and orders. 

Keigo Takami, Izuku thought. 

Izuku had no idea, no inkling that Captain Bakugo’s navigator was on Takamin Tamaki's ship. If he had, then he would’ve absolutely found another Captain to take them to the stars. Takami was a force on his own, but if he was on deck, then Snipe would be too and those two working together meant that a lot of the crew were going to die. 

He wanted to ask if any of the crew were long range fighters—like both Takami and Snipe were, but he couldn’t exactly say that. 

"How much do you know about this ship?" Shoto asked the Captain. 

Bakugo explained in a gritted voice that  the Captain would be a bitch to take down, that going alongside them in battle and being boarded would be suicide. 

"What is your plan then?" Izuku asked, sceptical about whether he should go with the Captain or try to sneak his charges and himself onto a rowing boat. 

"Cannons. Hisashi. I have a fuck ton of cannons," Bakugo patted the mast in front of him affectionately.

The Captain's plan was ludicrous. Absolutely insane, and Izuku was becoming convinced that Shoto was the same when the Prince refused to let Izuku sneak them off the ship. From the Captain’s quarters, Eijiro brought out two large guns. They looked far more advanced than the Tanegashima guns that Izuku had remembered seeing when he was young. They had to be from other countries. It was at that point that Izuku finally managed to coax both Lady Mei and Shoto down to the hold. 

There was a period of waiting, something that Izuku found hard to bear. It felt like he was imprisoned again, just waiting for the battle to start, for Shoto and himself to be killed. Though this time his mind was kept more at bay while he helped a large, mute man move and pile heavy sacks of sand against the side of the ship. The ship thundered forward, and like the Quartermaster had hastily informed them, the ship would be heading straight towards the ship. 

Izuku heard the mass rumbling of the canons above moving, and looked over to Mei who seemed far too excited about the ordeal and then suddenly, as if a fog had lifted, he was unafraid. Shoto’s father had unintentionally harmed his fleet by outright banning any involvement with other countries. Izuku had been so busy thinking about how both Snipe and Takami were such good bowmen that he failed to comprehend the fact that this ship simply had so Much. Firepower. 

If they wanted to, Izuku wouldn’t doubt they’d blow the ship into the sky, and he then thought the only reason they weren’t going to do that is to make sure that Hitoshi wasn’t caught in the crossfire. 

“I don’t feel comfortable with how many people they’ll kill with those cannons,” Shoto said lowly. 

Izuku looked up at the ceiling, and two seconds later, someone screamed, “Fire!” 

He was unprepared for just how loud the cannon firing would be when they were just underneath. His whole head reverberated with it, shook him down to his very bones. He was feeling restless; he needed to know what was going on...if Captain Takami had died. Despite their desperation to get to their mission, Izuku still felt remorse at the fact men he probably knew of would die. 

“How far do those guns fire?” He turned to Koji who was squatting at the back of the hold, with a small goat in his arms, covering its ears. 

He tried to ignore just how terrified and distressed the creature was; he was surprised it hadn’t died. 

Koji held up a hand and lifted two fingers on one hand, and three fingers on the other. 

“Two hundred to three hundred yards?” he asked, and the man nodded. 

That was far more than a bow. He was terrified it wouldn’t work, but he hastily explained his plan to his two charges before racing up the decks to see what was happening. All of the crew were poised to board, and to Izuku’s disbelief, they’d targeted their firing to the front of the ship where the wood was weakest. They’d crippled it with two blasts. 

Smoke rose in plumes from the ship, and Izuku knew that Takami would be planning a boarding assault with whatever remained of his men. Denki had been right in trusting the Captain, Izuku was beginning to realize just how disadvantaged Japan was becoming with the banning of trade. 

He ran over to where he could see the captain. 

"Fucks sake. Hanta! we need to make sure no one mans her! Get the gunners ready to fire again on my signal!" Captain Katsuki bellowed. 

Izuku looked up to the Mizzen, and then at the other ship. He knew there were bow and arrows down in the stores and that more cannon fire would do nobody any good whatsoever. 

He sprinted below deck, ignoring Sato's calls and shoved his way through the crew into the stores. He dug behind one of the barrels and tugged the arrows and the bow free before racing back up into the chaos. 

"Captain!" Izuku yelled as the ship lurched in order to match the port side of the Japanese ship.

“The fuck is it!?” Bakugo's eyes pierced into his own as Izuku stumbled over to where he stood. 

"I have a good aim, and now we’re close enough this will give us an advantage… I can Shoot them individually when they try to climb up and we won’t waste gunpowder while the men are up there."

Bakugo grinned. Feral excitement spread in Izuku's belly. 

“Get up to the highest point and take down anyone that moves.” 

“Yes Captain.” Izuku nodded, before turning and slinging the bow and arrows around his shoulder. The rope was coarse under Izuku's hands as he hauled himself up the rigging, his muscles burned, and Izuku bit down against ache before finally pulling himself to the lookout post where Hanta was kneeling. At Izuku's arrival the man shuffled over to make room. 

“ One and a half metres before range,” Hanta yelled, and Izuku swiftly settled into position, pulling an arrow from the strapping and positioning it against the string of the bow as Hanta readied his gun. The deck was in his sights, the wind blowing the sail and covering the wheel at a pace of three. Izuku let out a breath, waiting for the right moment and kept his gaze trained on the deck. 

They moved in closer, and Izuku didn't even move his head when he heard Lady Mei climb up to the mizzen and shuffle along next to him.

“Don’t tell me to go back down. I won’t be ordered about. Shoto’s looking after the goat man,” Mei hissed in his ear. 

At this moment, with her superior eyesight, he could trust her, and so when she told him to aim and fire three degrees left, he listened. His arm ached; the arrow whistled passed his face and cut through the wind. He couldn’t hear it, but he knew that his target had dropped. 

“Cover your ears." Hanta propped the gun up into position and flicked the flint. 

Even while covering his ears, the noise from the gun next to him made him wince. He was still amazed at how accurate the weapon was. Izuku prepared a new arrow from the quiver, and watched for the sail to move out of the way of the helm. He blew out a slow breath, before his arm was yanked up to the Mast at the back of the ship.

"Snipe," he breathed. The man had been climbing up. 

Izuku had to kill him. It took another moment of composing himself before he sent an arrow whistling through the air. His stomach turned as it hit Snipe in the back, and the man fell from the mast. The only thing that gave Izuku closure was the fact he knew the man had no family. 

Izuku worked in tandem with Hanta. Each time he reloaded, Izuku sent arrows into the crew. When they became level with the ship, the other crew led an assault first—which Izuku was expecting. 

From the day before, Izuku knew just how brutal Captain Bakugo could be, and they certainly didn't hold back with the military. To his relief, the weapons that Bakugo's crew wielded were a match. The smell of gunpowder and burning filled the air as several of Bakugo's crew fired from their hiding places before people with knives and swords fought. 

"Don't stop now," Hanta muttered next to him.

He had three more arrows, he had to make them count. But, he knew deep down that he could not kill Takami. If he did, he would never meet the mercy of the Emperor. So, he aimed his bow elsewhere towards a crew member climbing across the planks Takami's crew had laid. He saw a man fighting with Eijiro, and it was then he saw Yuga being pushed against the edge of the ship, barely holding his sword against that of a much larger man. 

In this situation, he had no idea who he could help, who would die if he hesitated. 

"Who?" he let out breathlessly. 

Hanta didn't warn him before he fired, and the man who'd been battling with a different crew member fell from the platform.

"Aim for the ones trying to get across," Hanta ordered. 

Izuku nodded, and then he heard a whistle. He pulled Mei and Hanta down hard. There was a thunk above them and an arrow with a red feathered end pierced the wood. 

Takami. 

Izuku couldn’t see him, but he knew the man was there. 

"Fuck," Hanta cursed. "Shuffle around the mizzen, we'll just have to get a couple of the ones on board." 

Izuku obeyed, and he and Hanta took out five more men together. Izuku knew it was far too dangerous to head down then, and so he waited with the other rigger up in the eye. The fighting seemed to reach its crescendo, and Izuku felt useless without his bow. To his surprise, he saw Denki launch a spear from near one of the sail holds down to the deck, and then scurry away light on his feet. 

Izuku also wasn't used to seeing women fight, and he was impressed with the women he saw hold their own against the crew. The fight was bloody, brutal, with Bakugo's crew too sustaining injuries. But like Denki had said, when the fight lulled and the pirates flooded onto the naval ship, they were injured but none of them had died. 

Izuku wanted to climb down, but they were still at risk from being speared by an arrow. All Izuku could do was watch. It seemed the crew was pushing onto the other ship. But where was Keigo Takami? 

"Hanta! The archer's kicked it!" came the shout below, and Izuku held up the cracked mirror lady Mei handed to him. 

When it was not shot down, Hanta deemed it safe to climb down from the mizzen. He informed Mei and himself that 'they did good' and to help Tsuyu tend to the wounded. Izuku felt as though the world was going just a touch too fast. But he still stumbled over to help the crew on the ship carry the unconscious and injured down to Tsuyu. 

He was unafraid to show some of his skills, but this time he was content that he and Shoto had not drawn their swords so to speak. Truthfully, being up in the mizzen had been exhilarating, and Hanta had been quite enjoyable to work with. As predicted, not many of the crew had serious injuries since they had the upper hand. Izuku wondered again just where they got the ship. 

It was as he was helping Tsuyu bandage up Sato's waist that once again they heard the huge boom of the cannon above, and he was still gripping the swath of white fabric they used to move men from the floor onto the work bench. His eyes found Tsuyu's wide ones. Without a word he hurried upstairs to see what was going on. 

To his astonishment, when Izuku climbed across the planks onto the Japanese ship, he saw the smoldering, smoky remains of a reinforced metal door; they'd actually blown into the room using one of the small cannons to reduce casualties. At that moment, Izuku’s vision seemed to block out the rest of the men and Keigo Takami’s crew. Captain Bakugo and the others had charged into the room, and Izuku could see in the clearing smoke the Captain advanced upon Takami. 

He and Shoto had been kept separate from it all, and yet...Izuku knew that somehow, killing Takami would be a mistake. There would be repercussions for killing him; someone that Izuku was sure spent much time at the Emperor’s home. In a panic, Izuku wrapped the fabric around his face and forced himself to cough as he stumbled around still brawling men.

There were eight wooden cells, four on either side. Bakugo had Captain Takami against the back wall of the room, the military Captain was still loosely holding a katana.

“Captain!” he shouted, just as Bakugo was brandishing his gun. 

Bakugo barely looked over his shoulder and Izuku raised the cloth up to his eyes so Takami wouldn’t see his face. 

“If this ship is related to the Emperor we could bargain for money,” he said, coughing again. 

“Or we’d have a target the size of Japan on our backs,” Bakugo grunted. 

“Think of how much information we’d get about the other ships, I’m sure he won’t be useless,” Izuku tried, it wasn’t his best argument of persuasion, but it was all he could think right then. 

“Captain, I’ve got 'Toshi.” Someone said to his right, his hair was flat to his head and he wore a traditional kimono. 

Hitoshi. 

It was then that Izuku saw just who had been the cause of all this, being supported by a member of the crew was a man. He was filthy, bound in chains that fit painfully around his throat and then down to his wrists. When he looked up, it was as though Izuku had stepped into a cool lake of water on a summer’s day. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end as he met the other man's eyes.

It was then that the fighting ceased, and Bakugo’s crew were victorious, the last man on Takami's crew was defeated, slain by a woman with cropped black hair, a black piece of fabric covering her face, in her hands were much smaller knives. The battle seemed to have ended as if Hitoshi commanded it, as he raised his head just when the last man fell. 

“He’s right...that right there is Keigo Takami, a member of the Samurai employed by the Emperor himself.” Hitoshi’s voice was deep, but rough as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. 

Bakugo hissed so much vulgar language Izuku grimaced, but the Captain ordered Takami be tied up and taken with them. Izuku couldn't help but feel relieved, and yet still anxious as they bound Takami with his hands behind his back and led him from the barred room. 

There were men in several of the cells, and like before, the Captain made his speech about joining them before the intimidating woman passed him a ledger of their crimes. 

"Check the tags on their ankles, we've got two child murderers here," the woman said, voice like a venomous snake. "And I think I know why Toshi was brought with this lot."

"Good work Kyoka" Captain Bakugo said as he took the thick, blood spattered book. 

Izuku left before the Captain decided their fates, he'd seen enough of the brutality and the righteousness of the man for then. He knew his duty was to Tsuyu and his Prince, and perhaps if he could gain Takami's trust, save him a terrible fate and have information on the Emperor. 

Once out of sight of Takami, Izuku removed the material from his face and laid it down, he instructed the man to lay Hitoshi down on the sheet as the other crew members were busy raiding the ship for everything they had.

"Shit-careful of my hip" Hitoshi hissed as he was shifted and Izuku and the other crew member lifted him to carry him across. 

"I'm sorry, we'll try and be more gentle," Izuku said, and his voice was quieter than usual, as if he thought it would stop Hitoshi’s gaze from flicking up to him. 

Something about it was almost intimidating, his dark stare made Izuku grip the sheet tighter as they carried it up to the main deck.

"He's way tougher than he looks, he’s just being dramatic" The other crew member said with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m hurt Mashirao, literally and emotionally that you even think I’d over react,” Hitoshi said, Izuku couldn’t see the smile as he had to be careful where he stood but he could hear it in Hitoshi’s voice. 

Izuku helped carry Hitoshi across the gang plank, and to his surprise, Yuga appeared out of thin air and instructed him to take the injured man to the Navigator's cabin. 

"There's more space, Tsu said it's getting crowded downstairs," he explained. 

In the Navigator's cabin, Izuku found himself having more medical knowledge than the other three, but Mashirao  helped him managed to get the chains off with a lot of strength and tough work with a set of bolt cutters so large Izuku wondered how he even lifted them. 

"Do you have any injuries that you're concerned about?" Izuku asked as he began to check Hitoshi over. 

The man was a tapestry of bruises when Izuku started to clean him up, thankfully Yuga  had come back from Tsuyu’s with a thick, green paste that Izuku knew would be good for the cuts and bruises. Hitoshi told him not to worry, that there was nothing too serious. Izuku did all he could not to get distracted by the smooth plane Hitoshi’s stomach. Despite the other man’s protests, Izuku pressed gently on Hitoshi’s rib and hip, and the answering hiss told him all he needed to know. He’d likely either been thrown on that side or been beaten to the point he was injured. The huge bruises were yellowing though, so they had healed some, and Hitoshi said he could breathe comfortably. 

“My ankle...it’s dislocated I think, I tried to climb out the window and ended up face down on the floor.” 

“I don’t know how you survived those weeks,” Mashirao commented in a low voice as he helped Izuku wrap bandages that Izuku wiped with the paste securely around Hitoshi’s waist and chest. 

Izuku realised Hitoshi’s injuries must’ve been a lot worse than they imagined with the way Mashirao was Grimacing and Yuga was biting his thumbnail where he perched against the bed. He could see the pinch in Yuga’s brow, and feel the twitch of Hitoshi’s muscles as he reached a sore part of him which seemed to be everywhere. 

“I gotta say at some point I did that zen thing you said you do,” Hitoshi said, trying to be funny, but he just sounded strained. 

“Don’t you worry,” Yuga said with enough venom to kill a man. “We got them back.” 

“I’m aware-ow-I’m pretty sure Kyoka took down five of them on her own -ow, fuck-”

Izuku was gently turning Hitoshi’s face this way and that, to make sure his neck was uninjured, and apart from the bruising he seemed in good shape. Hitoshi’s eyes met his own as he looked down at him from above. 

“You’re new,” he murmured. 

“Yes,” Izuku said simply as he swiftly moved down to Hitoshi’s ankles to check the movement, it was a lateral dislocation. Hitoshi’s ankle was bent inwards, and the clean lines and lack of Hitoshi’s complaints told him there was no break.   “Mashirao, please hold his calf firmly”

Hitoshi only lifted his head to eye him, and Mashirao got into position.

“You know what you’re doing?” 

“Yes.” Izuku answered, and without warning, swiftly moved Hitoshi’s dislocated ankle back into position. He felt the thunk, and then the movement was suddenly much smoother. 

“Motherfucker! What the fuck-What” Hitoshi let out, and then he stopped and flopped back on the table. “Ow.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Yuga said, his voice faint. 

“Better?” Izuku asked and he gently lifted Hitoshi’s ankle up and pulled the man down slightly, so his calf was pressed against Izuku’s chest and there was no pressure at all on the now less swollen area. 

“Yeah...yeah it’s better-where did Katsuki find this one?” Hitoshi’s head turned to Mashirao who too was looking slightly stunned.

Yuga had taken out a bottle of alcohol from somewhere and was swigging it down, after a brief pause and a deep breath, he passed to Hitoshi who struggled up onto his elbows and took large swallows. 

“On his way to being sold in China” Yuga hissed, his cheeks now more colourful after the assault on the alcohol bottle. 

“I saw him shoot down at least three of Takami’s crew and he’s been here a day.” Mashirao said, eyeing Izuku also. 

Hitoshi’s eyes lighted in surprise, and Izuku saw the genuine lift of a smile to his lips. 

“Looks like he’s just the type of guy we need.” 

“Thank you,” Izuku let out softly, he could feel his cheeks heating, and he couldn’t help holding on a little tighter to Hitoshi's leg. “Your recovery time is six to twelve weeks.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hitoshi groaned, and flopped back onto the table. 

[crow-summoner]

Darklina Week Day 2: Role Reversal

Sun Summoner!Darkling and Shadow Summoner!Alina

Alina, a cartographer for the Ravken Army, undertakes a dangerous mission to stay by her only friend’s side. They must cross the Forge, a hellscape of intense heat and unrelenting light that has torn their country in two. Nothing can survive the Forge for long. Nothing but the monsters that call it home. Alina thinks she and Mal will make it as long as they’re together, but when their mission falls to pieces, Alina discovers something shocking about herself. She can banish light. Her powers draw the attention of the Golden General, a military leader who scares and intrigues Alina in equal measure. One thing’s for sure. Alina can’t go back to life of a mouse, and the General’s her best option to fight for something more. Can Alina save her world, or will she die trying?

Or, an AU where light powers aren’t necessarily good, and shadow powers get to be heroic. Content warning for some volcra expy related gore and some canon-consistent sprinkles of Malina at the beginning. There’s plenty of Darkles after that, now with extra sparkles.

Story under the jump

The Forge

Alina sits at the inn window, adding the last buttery yellow lines to her painting. For being such a blight against their nation, the Forge made a lovely landscape. She dons her fabrikator sunglasses, and turning her back to the unrelenting sunlight, she lifts her tented mirror up to compare her painting to the real thing. Her superior officers would kill her if they knew what she was using their equipment for, but the Forge is too bright to look at directly. Her superiors may not appreciate art, but if she’s going to risk her life for more supplies, she wants to leave a memorial for herself.

“It looks too much like a vacation spot,” Mal says, dragging up a chair so he can sit next to her. He’s already wearing his glasses and darkened veil, which will supposedly keep the Forge from boiling their eyes out and trap moisture near their faces. Alina would be happier if more than army issued fashion stood between her and certain death.

“You make a pretty bride, you know that?” Alina says instead of responding to the criticism. There were enough horrors in the Forge. She wanted make something pleasant. She places her canvas between the shelf and the wall, hoping that someone working at the inn will find it.

Mal huffs. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the bags under my eyes. Don’t know how people sleep around here.”

Alina supposes people can get used to anything, even perpetual daylight. She secures her mirror and knives to her belt and dons her veil and gloves. She shimmies down the narrow walkway as if showing off the latest fashion. “What do you think?”

Mal makes a show of considering it, rubbing his chin under the veil. “I think the sveta will be too smitten to eat you.”

Alina tilts her head in mock coyness. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” She leaves it unspoken that she wishes someone else was smitten with her.

“Come on,” Mal says, taking her by the arm. “I want to be on time for once.”

By the time they reach the skiff, Alina and Mal are five minutes late. Thankfully, Alexei, her fellow cartographer, covered for her.

“You owe me,” he says, shoving her maps into her hands.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Alina promises.

“You already owe me twelve cakes!”

“Then I’ll name my first born after you.”

Alexei snorts. “Like any of us are going to live long enough to have kids. We’re all going to be beef jerky in a few hours.”

“Squeak. Squeak, Alexei.” It’s the code their cartographers have for when Alexei’s boundless optimism is bringing them down.

Normally, Alexei would grumble but acquiesce. Today, he just stares at the skiff. “Do you really think the sveta are real?”

Alina shrugs. “What else could eat our men out there?” Admittedly, invisible creatures made of light sounded farfetched, but she’s seen the battle scars. Other soldiers had claw mark scars across their chest and spots where something inhuman had taken a bite out of them. The light could blister, burn and tan flesh, but it couldn’t do that.

“I dunno. Maybe him,” Alexei said, eyeing the golden carriage in the distance. “The Geldling.”

Alina quickly hushes him. General Kirigan tolerates others calling him the Golden General, but he does not take kindly to the Geldling. Sure, the epitaph was based on an old Kerch word for gold, but gelding is also what one did to a prized horse to keep it docile. It was as good as saying their leader is a ballless pet, and everyone knows it.  

Sure enough, one of the heartrenders lifts his veil and glares at them. He might have been handsome once, but his sour expression makes the lines on his face hard.

“Captain Herring may be rough, but he’s not a cannibal.” Alina hopes this is enough to cover over their mistake. The heartrender doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight them either. That suited Alina well enough.

“Watch what you say,” she whispers to Alexei. “We have to depend on these people to survive. Don’t make them mad.”

Alexei nods. “Sorry.”

Thankfully, the rest of their time at the dock goes smoothly. Soon, all the soldiers and Girsha gather inside the metal skiff, ready to take off. A tidemaker hoses them all down, making Alina feel like a drenched rat, but the water is important in such a hot place.

Alina makes sure to stand by Mal, gripping his arm for support as the skiff slides along the sand. There’s enough space to move around, but something about the lack of windows makes the room feel unbearably tight. It’s like one big coffin.

Squeak, squeak, Alina tells herself. No one’s going to die today.

The skiff rattles as they pass over marker zero. They’re officially in the Forge. The panels in the side of the skiff slide up. Rows of dark nets allow squallers to force air out without letting the light in. They’ll have to use the tinted mirrors along the sides of the skiff to direct it.

Alina fans herself, wishing the nets could ease the heat. She was drenched just minutes ago, but her uniform’s now bone dry. Sure, the tidemakers periodically release a mist from their fancy containers and push it around the cabin, but that’s like giving a starving man a single bite.

“I bet I can sweat more than you,” Mal jokes, and she’s sure it’s to help distract her. Even the dumbest man in their unit wouldn’t brag about that.

“No way. Sweat more than that heartrender over there, and you have a deal,” she whispers back. It was a hard challenge. The heartrender already smelled like he’d bathed in nothing but used socks for years.

Mal leans back in shock. “Yikes. Are you trying to kill me? I can’t beat that.”

Alexei sniffs beside them, rubbing under his veil. “My lids are scraping my eyeballs.”

Alina reaches over and slaps his hand the way she used to do with the younger kids at the orphanage. “Then stop picking at them.”

Alexei mumbles. He’s a good cartographer, but he also comes from money, and that didn’t always make for a good soldier. Alina wonders if she should have erased his name instead of Ruby’s. This mission called for two cartographers, and Ruby could withstand discomfort better than he could, but Alina wasn’t thinking rationally. Mal was going to go into the Forge by himself, and Alina needed to remove someone so she could forge her own name on the mission papers. Mal wouldn’t give Alexei a second glance, but Ruby had red hair and a slim figure. Alina couldn’t risk Mal having “glad we’re still alive” sex with her after the mission. It was petty, childish even, but Alina couldn’t help herself. If they all survive the skiff, she’ll woman up and tell Mal how she feels. Lord knows hanging in this middle ground wasn’t doing either of them any favors.  

The skiff shakes, and Alexei grabs the walls. “Saints! It’s the sveta.”

The squaller at the helm shushes him. “Just a bump. Don’t call attention to us.”

Alexei’s shoulders slump, but he retakes his position behind the squaller without another word.

Alina can’t help but lean around her squaller to peak in her mirror. She’d heard about calcified roots surviving the Forge long after the crops perished. The real thing must be prettier than the paintings. Instead of a root, Alina finds the fragments of a skull and the front of a skiff.

She steps back, her stomach sinking into her boots. It’s one thing to know the odds, but it’s another to stare the evidence in the face. Better men than them have failed to cross.

The crew stand in silence as the skiff passes the first marker. Alina gives her squaller the proper directions and distances, and soon they pass the second marker. The third. The fourth. Alina allows herself to hope. Just eleven more and they’re home free.

She scratches her arm, and flakes of dry skin come off. No wonder the skiff regulars look like leather. She’d rather go AWOL than do this again. Then again, she didn’t have be here this time either. She has no one to blame but herself.

The skiff rumbles and tilts. It’s just another bump, she assures herself, but something raps against the ceiling. The heartrenders tense up, and the squallers shift their positions.

Oh, no.

She checks on Mal just to be sure, but he’s clutching his gun tight, his head tilted up. It’s the same stance he took when he found that rabbit in a barren forest or when he was about to catch her during hide and seek. He’s sighted something, only this time, that something is stronger than them.

The squaller at the helm brings the skiff to a stop and signals for the shooters and heartrenders to take position. All the non-combat staff – cartographers included – must gather at the center. Alina takes out her knife and her tented mirror, praying she won’t have to use them.

“Protect yourselves if you must,” the squaller whispers, “but don’t get in anyone’s way.”

Alina’s never felt more useless in her life.

The skiff continues to shake, harder this time. Something whines above them. Something answers it’s call from somewhere in front of them. Another whine sounds from behind the skiff. From all sides. How many of them are out there? At least a dozen given the sheer number of cries. No one dares make a sound. The sveta are fierce, but they’re just as blind as a human in the Forge. Maybe if they don’t hear anything, they’ll get bored and hunt elsewhere.

The ceiling dents in with a clank, knocking the skiff to the right. One of the soldiers jumps at the sound, aiming where it came from. The squaller at the helm blows him away, but not in time. The shot blows a hole in the ceiling, letting the light in. The beam hits a tidemaker’s shoulders, carving a smoking black line through her kefta. She screams, tearing off the cloth to expose a blistering gash. A healer pulls her to the side as one her friends tries to stifle her screams with a damp cloth, but it’s too late. The sveta cries draw closer.

Something claws a large hole through the ceiling, the soldiers scrambling to avoid the new beams. Some squallers attempt to blow up a tarp to cover the open areas, but it stops in thin air. No. Not thin air. The tarp drapes over something Alina can’t see with her naked eye. Under the plastic, she can make out its large, pointed wings and snout.

“Blast it,” the squaller at the helm shouts, and the soldiers open fire on the creature. It whines, batting away the tarp, and then it’s gone.

For a moment, no one makes a move. The cabin is utterly silent. Then something flashes across Alina’s mirror, and the next thing she knows, the soldier beside her explodes in a splash of red. On the other side of the skiff, a healer’s hand disappears. He draws back, clutching his now bloody stump as one of the creatures screeches in triumph.

Alina backs up, though there’s nowhere left to go. Oh, saints. She should have never come here. She begs every saint she can think of to forgive whatever sin brought her to this horrible moment. Shooting her fellow man in combat. Wishing harm to the girls Mal so much as looked at. Disregarding Ana Kuya’s rules at every turn. Whatever it was, she repented. Just please don’t let her die at some monster’s hand.

The durasts burst dust in the air. It makes their own people cough, but it helps make the sveta more visible.

BAM!

Another chunk of ceiling caves in, forcing the crew to huddle along the perimeter to escape the light. Not all of them were quick enough. Several soldiers blister and peel, crying as the sveta tear off chunks of flesh from their bodies.

Alina can only stare. It’s too late for prayers. Too late to run. She should have talked Mal into fleeing while she had the chance, and now ... Alina holds out her mirror, a new hope setting in. They might not make it out, but she can at least die by Mal’s side. He has to know how she feels.

Alina slowly shifts through the chaos, dodging shots and beams of light. She finds him by the helm, taking deep breaths as he aims and shoots. Something heavy hits the floor, gurgling. Of course. Leave it to Mal to find the creatures without a mirror.

She shines her mirror in the direction the creature fell, hoping to avoid tripping its body, but to her surprise, she can just make out the sheen of its skin. The colors change as she tilts the mirror, first blue, then pink and maybe green. All the colors of the rainbow. It reminds her of looking through a prism. Not invisible then. The sveta are just reflective.

Alina giggles. Ana Kuya would be so proud of her, committing to her education even as she’s about to die. She keeps giggling over and over, knowing that if she stops, she’ll have to cry. There are just so many bodies around her. They used to be people, and now they’re meat.

Someone grabs her wrist, and a shot of energy courses through her, quieting the hysteria. Mal drags her beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he’s busy readying his next shot. “I lo – ” She doesn’t get any further. Another soldier’s bullet ricochets off the wall and hits Mal in the shoulder. He doubles over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Alina drops her mirror, pressing a palm against the wound. The blood seeps from between her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop the flow.

Mal slides to the floor, Alina crouching beside him. The light streams against them, burning her chest and his back. The pain means nothing compared to the loss.

“No. Not like this,” she says, covering Mal’s body with her own.

The pain in her back only lasts a second. It occurs to her that this is not a good thing. It means her nerves have been eaten away, but she’s glad to do it if it means Mal can live.

Something rumbles in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to burst, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

All around her, the creatures cry and flap their wings erratically. She doesn’t have time think about it as the world goes dark, sinking her into a deep oblivion.

 *****************************

 Alina wakes, draped over someone’s shoulder, face buried in the red cloth of his kefta. She only lifts her head for one moment, but the light’s unbearable.

The light?

“Mal,” Alina shouts. She wiggles to free herself from the Grisha’s grip. The sveta will come back at any moment. She has to find Mal. Protect him. Where is he?

But they’re not on the skiff anymore. They’re back at the dock, the skiff a shredded husk. People rush every which way, some tending to the wounded and some salvaging the cargo from the hold. Mal could be anywhere among them. Then Alina catches sight of the ground. Oh, saints! So many people lay unmoving on the dock, and Grisha and First Army soldiers keep dragging out more. All these people she trained with. Ate with. Sung bawdy songs with when they’d all had too much kvas. Dead. They can’t all be gone. Right? Right?

Alina kicks at the Grisha. She needs to see for herself who made it out. Mal better be among them. Of course, he would be. He was the best tracker Ravka’s ever seen. He’d always find his way back home. Home to her.

The Grisha swears at her, trying to stop her feet with one arm. “Be still.” She recognizes him. The heartrender that had sneered at Alexei’s comment earlier. Alina drives a fist in the heartrender’s back. If Grisha like him had done more they wouldn’t be in the situation. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? He let their soldiers die because someone spoke against his leader. His pride meant more than the supplies they’d get from West Ravka. More than human life.

“Fine.” With a huff, the Grisha drops her flat on her butt, sand puffing in her face. She’s coughing too much to fight him off when the heartrender takes her by her bicep and drags her towards the camp. Another heartrender takes her other arm, his grip gentler than his coworker’s.

“Was that necessary, Ivan?” The second heartrender asked.

Ivan only grunts “Fedyor” as a warning in response. Fedyor shakes his head with what Alina would call fondness if she thought anyone could be fond of something as sour as Ivan.

“Where’s Mal?” Alina asks Fedyor, but he only lifts a brow. Of course, he wouldn’t recognize the name of a common solider. There were so many of them, and Grisha only concerned themselves with their own. “The boy I was with on the skiff.”

“Ah. Him,” Fedyor says. “The First Army tends to their own wounded. He’s in their care.”

Alina knows what that means. He’s laying outside the infirmary tent, waiting for his turn to have an undertrained medic pour alcohol in his wounds then pack them with mustard plaster. If he’s lucky, they’ll still have enough bandages for him to get his own. Having to use the scraps from old uniforms inevitably led to infection, and without supplies from the west, the camp outpost could not provide the steady diet of alcohol needed to survive that misery. Mal is popular, though. She’s sure someone will be willing to sacrifice their stash for his comfort.

Then it occurs to her that she’s not doing the same thing. She’d been horribly burned by the light, and yet her back doesn’t ache. Someone must have removed her jacket while Alina was unconscious, but her undershirt is scorched where the light hit it. Her chest is unusually red, but it’s not blistering or charred. The worst she can say is that she feels like she’s been awake for days.

“Why would someone heal me?” She’s heard it a thousand times before. Healers were too rare to waste on common soldiers. They were for Grisha and those wealthy enough to be a priority. She is neither, and yet when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s gazing down at her with some feeling she dares not define. It was the same look the Grisha gave the golden carriage when it barreled into the encampment. The same look the peasants near Keramzin gave the bones of Saint Felix on his day of worship. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it reverence.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he finally says, “We survived.” Alina doesn’t know what she has to do with that. It was luck. Pure and simple. But then Fedyor closes his eyes and whispers, “Thank you.”

A chill runs through Alina despite the heat. She looks at the tents, the people running around them, anywhere and everywhere but at Fedyor and that look, full of expectations she can never fill. They’ve long since passed the First Army section, but they’re now leaving the main Grisha area, heading up the northmost path. There’s nothing there except for the single yellow tent towering over the rest of the encampment.

Alina pulls back, but it does nothing to stop the heartrenders. “What does the General want with me?”

“Just answer his questions, so we call all get on with our day,” Ivan says.

“I don’t know anything! Let go of me!” She turns to look back at the First Army camp, too far away for anyone to see her let alone help. Not that they could do anything if they wanted to. No one says no to the General.

Fedyor grips the back of her neck, and her whole body turns to puddy. The heartrenders lean into her, holding her upright because her knees can no longer bear her weight. She’s too relaxed to move at all.

Ivan sniffs. “You weren’t supposed to do that for anyone but me.”

Fedyor grins. “Sorry, luv. Desperate times and all that.”

They march her straight into the lion’s den.

She doesn’t know what she expected to see. A jeweled throne and a menagerie of exotic animals like the ones she’d seen in the illustrated book of fairy tales back at the orphanage? Enemy soldiers kept in cages and chained otkazat’sya serving the Grisha like the Fjerdan pamphlet a traveler tried to give them before Ana Kuya kicked them off the duke’s property? But this place resembled the main tent for the First Army. Soldiers clustered together around a round table. A large map hung from a board, thread and pegs marking paths, places and interesting parties. And yet the General’s tent was larger than theirs, made of bulletproof core cloth while they had to make do with spun cotten. They must not need to ration oil either given the number of lamps lit, and the gathered Grisha shone like banners in their blue, red and purple keftas. No olive drab for them.

Most of the room turned to face them when the heartrenders dragged Alina in. Some now look at her with open curiosity and others with incredulous expressions. Soft mummers pass through the crowd until someone raises their hand, and the whole lot fall silent. Saints, Alina never heard a tent so quiet before. Even during lights out, at least one person snored.

Without needing to be told, the Grisha step back, parting down the center to make a path. A lone man strides forward, his telltale yellow kefta billowing around him. Notes of silver, white and gold weave through it, enough thread to stitch three tents of this size together, but he’s not wearing the jewelry she’d expect from his high rank, and his clothes are core cloth like any other Grisha. She’s never seen a high officer without any silk on, no matter how impractical it might be. After all, most never saw battle. Not like this one had.

The Golden General is younger than she’d expected given what others said about him. She’d seen a shriveled man with boney hands covered in warts in her mind’s eye, but this man barely had a decade on her, and his warm blonde hair and fair, flawless complexion were pleasing on the eyes. Too pleasing. Even the most beautiful boy back home had some freckle or ruddiness to his skin, but the General’s looks almost painted on. It’s eerie, and yet she can’t look away. He’s like the very embodiment of the light, except there’s a coldness in his gaze and calm comportment.

He may be light, but he’s not warmth.

That right, she tells herself. Ana Kuya warned her about such things before. One of the orphans she’d grown up with saw a gold coin glittering in some bushes under a hill. He’d climbed down for it, only to be rolled by some travelers. They took the buttons from his coat and the boots from his feet. He came home with nothing but his pants and a gash on his forehead. Ana Kuya warned them all then: not all that’s gold glitters. Sometimes, it burns instead. Gold tempts the desperate, but Alina is not blind. The General only looked like a man. He can boil someone’s insides. Make their flesh rot from their bone as if they were already dead.  Burn them with a glance. And here he is, looking straight at her.

The General stops a few feet away and clasps his hands behind his back. He looks her over, and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful that she can’t read what conclusions he’s drawn. He nods at the heartrenders, and Fedyor rubs the back of Alina’s neck. Her limbs come back to life, panic rising from her core. She wants to run, but there’s no point.

The General stares at her, impassive, and then finally: “Is it true?”

For a moment, Alina believes the absurd. He’s read her thoughts and knows what she said about him being a monster. Then it occurs to her that he’s talking about the skiff. She closes her eyes. What does he want her to say? She was unconscious for most of what went down, and she can barely remember what she was present for. Flashes of her coworker’s blood and blistering arms intrude behind her closed lids, forcing them open again. Maybe it’s best she can’t remember.

She must have taken too long to answer because the General speaks again. “Is it true that you can banish the light?”

All Alina can do is blink. This has to be a joke, but the General’s expression is serious, and everyone around them is leaning in with anticipation. She knows better than to laugh in their faces and question their intelligence, so she makes do by stuttering, “No one can do that.” It takes a moment, but she remembers to add a quick “sir.” She’s not used to being around anyone important.

She braces herself for him to yell at her the way the generals in their army do, but he merely nods. “Then what did happen?”

Alina struggles for an answer. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t know how the sveta got in, or how their ship made it, but no matter what she says, she keeps returning to those burning soldiers. The General frowns, and she knows she needs to come up with something – anything – to appease him.

The General raises a hand to silence her, and when he speaks, his tone is smooth and calm. “It must have been scary out there. It’s one thing to read about the attacks, but it’s another to live it.”

Alina hadn’t expecting any sympathy, so she just nods.

“You must be exhausted.” When Alina nods again, the General continues. “It’s hard to make sense of anything when you hurt so much. I could help with that if you’ll let me.” He gestures beside him, inviting her closer.

He may have asked for permission, but Alina isn’t sure she really has a choice. Still, he’s been nothing but polite so far. She has nothing to lose by playing along.

Alina slowly closes the gap between them, and the closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. It’s like he’s a magnet, and she’s loose filigree coming together for the first time. She feels the warmth now, not in his continence, but all around him. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tingle. It numbs the heaviness of her limbs and banishes the panic that’s haunted her since the skiff penetrated the Forge. Before she knows it, Alina’s pressed up against the General. She’s vaguely aware that it’s not appropriate to stand so close to a superior, and it’s definitely not safe to be within biting distance of a monster, but it feels right. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

The General doesn’t seem to mind either, staring deep into her eyes like he’s trapped, too. Her reflection stares back at her in his eyes. They’re just so bright and shiny. She has a hard time placing the color. It reminds her of one of the duke’s vases. The blown glass was iridescent and shimmered with every color around it. She and Mal had argued for years over what color it really was. He said purple. She said green. They finally settled things with a good arm wrestle. Green won, of course. Alina decides that the General’s eyes are green, too.

“May I?” He asks, and though she can’t see where he’s pointing, she answers his unspoken request, sliding her hand in his. His palms are rough from life on the road, but they’re warm, and his grip os gentler than Fedyor’s had been. She could hold his hand and stare into his eyes forever.

“What happened?” The General asks in a voice softer than silks.

The words spill out of Alina on their own. She tells him about forging her name on the staff list. The attack. Shielding Mal. The sveta descending on them, and then – “All I could look at was him, but I could feel the light getting sucked away. Everything went black, and then I woke up on the docks.”

The General says nothing, but his eyes briefly narrow. It’s not a threat as far as Alina can tell. Whatever she said seemed to confirm something for him. The General pushes up her sleeve with his free hand, never breaking her gaze. She doesn’t fight it. She’s curious, too. Something happened back on that skiff. It’s there lurking there in the back of her brain, begging to be revealed. She knows once it’s free, it can never be caged again. The thought simultaneously thrills her and makes her shiver.

The General trails one finger up her arm. Something inside her responds to act, rejoices in it. His finger stops and curls around her forearm. She notes that the nail on his thumb is longer than the others. Sharp. He drives that nail into her flesh, and it’s like a thousand arms stream out of her at once.

Darkness surrounds them, putting out the lights. No, the lamps are still on. She can feel their flames licking at the shadows just as easily as she can feel the General’s grip on her arm. All around them, the Grisha shout. She can’t see them so much as she feels where they are in the dark. It the strangest sensation, and yet it feels like home. Everything is darkness.

Everything but him.

The General glows, smiling down at her. A true lamp would illuminate the world around them, but there he stands, the sole bright spot in the blackness. Standing together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Then the General lets go of her arm and the darkness withers, fading into the ground or retreating under Alina’s skin to fight another day.

Alina clutches her chest, suddenly empty inside. Her head swivels every which way, desperate to find that surety again, but it’s gone. The aches have returned, magnified tenfold. She can barely keep herself upright, and soon, she’s on her knees, her head swimming.

“A shadow summoner,” some squaller says, and it’s as if a dam broke in Alina’s mind. She stares at her rough, ruddy hands. They’re not the hands of a hero, and yet it’s true. It’s all true. She can banish the light. She saved the skiff from the Forge.

She’s … Grisha.

Alina frowns, remembering what Mal said when that Grisha girl made eyes at him from the General’s carriage. He doesn’t tumble witches. Alina was glad to hear it then. It meant less competition for her, and she and Mal had exchanged plenty of digs at the Grisha over the years. Surely, he wouldn’t think she’s like the rest of them just because she has powers. She didn’t grow up coddled and self-important like the rest of them. That had to count for something. He knew her. The real her. He wouldn’t be scared of her because of her shadows.

No matter how hard Alina tries, she can’t bring herself to believe it.

The General holds out his hand. Alina stares up at him, sure she should bat it away. She’s not one of his Grisha. She’s a mapmaker and an orphan and Mal’s best friend. But that may not be true anymore, and she’d be a fool to burn any bridges.

She takes his hand, letting the General lift her to her feet. He pulls her close again, so close she can feel his breath against her face. She should let go, but she clings to his hand like it’s the last safe ledge in a rockslide. He gives her a knowing smirk, and she wants to wipe it off his stupid face. She’s had a rough day. She would have clung to literally anybody, but then the General leans in, and she feels that warmth again. His lips brush her ear as he whispers, “You and I are going to change the world.”

Notes:

Whoo! This is my first Grishaverse fanfic. It may be a little late, but it’s here. One shot for now, but I might be interested in continuing this in the future. Hope you enjoyed!

[a-purple-lizard]

Hello! I love your blog! I want to ask if you can make a story of Raiden having sexual tension with his ex wife? Like she watches him train shirtless or something 😂 (I’m just thirsty for Raiden tbh)

Thundering rain

Raiden x Ex wife Reader

Ohhh my goodness! You are my first request! Thanks so much! I actually read this at 1am last night when you sent it and I was so excited! Oh and quick warning, this does get a bit steamy at the end, no smut though, but of course if anybody wanted a part 2...

The clouds defended from the sun, leaving no light down onto the Sky temple. A large stone balcony below was illuminated by a couple hundred candles. Behind one of the many pillars surrounding the training area, was a woman. She wore sleeveless, black robes, two metal rings were on each of her upper arms. Her scowl seemed permanent as she watched a man on the balcony.

Soft grunts filled air as the thunder god struck the invisible foe. He kicked and punched gracefully, never once becoming distracted by his surroundings. His hat rested on a crate nearby, his vest lay right next to it. The gods long silver locks flowed gently in the wind, the silk top of his robe peeled down, revealing his chest.

S/o growled silently to herself, nails clicking against the wall as sudden voices came from the halls behind her.

“She’s back!? Again?” A male said in a slightly rude tone.

“Yes, I suggest we tread lightly, she looked as if she wanted to eat me alive when I glanced at her.” A more respectful voice answered.

“Poor Raiden, marrying that woman was probably the worst decision of his li- ahh!” The monk was cut off as they turned the corner to find an extremely pissed off immortal woman seething at them.

The two men quickly turned the other way, their pace almost a run. “Kung Lao, Liu Kang!”

They both froze, glancing at each other before cautiously approaching S/o. She crossed her arms, eyes going from one monk to the other. “Hello boys. Good to see you again.” Her glare made her polite tone unbelievable.

The two monks looked at each other before both respectfully bowing, “S/o it’s… unexpected to see you here again, do you have business with the thunder god?” Liu Kang asked.

“I don’t need to have a gods damn reason to be here!” She snapped. “I was here when this cursed place was built and I’ll be here long after.”

“So you’re just here, on your own free will, just to watch Raiden train on the top balcony?” Liu Kang asked, careful not to come across as sarcastic.

“Shirtless?” Kung Lao added.

“I’m here because I enjoy the scenery!” The immortal growled. The monks analyzed the area around them, the dark sky painting over the sun, a sudden burst of lightning lashing out. Rain pouring and whipping at the backs of anybody who dared to emerge from the safety of the tower.

“Yes… it’s very nice…” Kung Lao said. “But I’m afraid we must get going, we have uh… business to discuss with the thunder god!” Tipping his hat, he grabbed the chosen one and bolted out of s/o’s sight, making a Beeline to the silver haired god.

“Lord Raiden!” Liu Kang started, earning the gods attention.

“Your scary ex wife is back.” Kung Lao announced. Raiden looked up, gaze meeting S/o’s briefly before she looked away. “I’m pretty sure she’s here to kill you.”

“I see, how long has she been there?” He sighed, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Well I first saw her a couple of hours ago climbing up the stairs, she was on the… 367th floor at the time I believe?” Liu Kang answered, his face strained trying to remember.

“Thank you, I must go speak with her now.” And with that, he started to walk over to the borderline feral woman.

“May Neatherealm have mercy on his soul.” Kung Lao mumbled as they both watched the god halt next to the immortal.

“S/o? Is everything alright?” He asked carefully. Blood krept onto the woman’s face as she quickly turned her head.

“Ya. I’m fine.” She answered quickly.

“Why are you here? Surely you have better things to do then scare the monks?” He prompted. S/o blinked and glanced over as his shirtless form. His body was certainly toned and muscled, the rain dripped down his body, tracing each crevice and adding an overall exaggeration of the man's body. “S/o?”

His voice brought her back to reality. She quickly thought, her and her ex husband had rarely had any civil conversations since they left, this was… refreshing. “I… I came back for my… crown.”

He tilted his head, confused, eyes at full attention. S/o felt a maddening blush overtake her, damn his rare, innocent expressions. “You know! That old golden one, with the glowing gems, it covers my forehead and curves down to my cheeks? Looked like a conquerors helm? I used to wear it with my armor?”

Recognition filled his glowing eyes as he nodded, “Oh yes, I remember. Do you… plan on wearing it?” He asked carefully.

S/o wanted to slap herself for picking the crown as her excuse. The crown was gifted to her by some ancient king of a realm conquered by Shao Kahn long ago. It was given to her after her wedding with Raiden, a symbol of her status as his wife. It also granted her great strength, yes she would use that as an excuse.

“Well obviously.” She snapped. “I plan on… participating in the mortal Kombat tournament.” She finished awkwardly. Raiden raised a brow.

“What do you have to gain from it? You are already an immortal s/o. Besides, what realm would you represent?” He asked.

“I- I, I don’t need to explain myself to you Raiden! Just take me to your damn room so I can grab it.” She angrily stuttered. Raiden grimaced but started to make his way to his things on the crate, the flexing of his back muscles quickly made s/o grab him. He turned, his gaze questioning. “By the elder gods, just teleport us really quick, no need to stop what you’re doing!”

“Very well then.” With a sudden flash, they were both standing in a clearly abandoned room. Dust has settled on their bed, candles were blown out and all of her things looked untouched. She blinked in surprise.

“You… haven’t used this room since I left?” She asked, her questioning gaze landing on the god.

He frowned. “Gods don’t need sleep, I only chose to sleep because you were beside me. Without you, this room is meaningless to me.” Something about that sentence stabbed through her heart as she quickly turned the other direction.

“Let’s just… get the crown so you don’t have to see me again.” She mumbled, opening her dresser drawers.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you again?” He inquired, walking over to her, strong, soaked muscles shining in the window light. Fuck, no no no.

“I was the one who left, figured you would hold it to me.” She answered quietly.

Guilt clouded his eyes, he halted behind her “we both were at blame. I’m sorry if I ever made you think it was purely you at fault.”

S/o huffed, “oh so I suppose we are just supposed to kiss and make up now?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I would not be opposed to that.” He stated simply. S/o felt her eyes widening, she turned around only to see Raiden, still without a fucking shirt, giving her an expectant look.

He couldn’t really expect this to work? Just kiss and say sorry and BAM marriage fixed! But then again they never necessarily got a divorce, they simply mutually agreed to stay the hell away from each other- fuck why was she overthinking this?

A fucking shirtless GOD was before her, asking her for a kiss. The answer shouldn’t have even taken a second.

Without a warning she grabbed him, slamming him against one of the tall bed post and placed her lips on his. He was definitely startled by the sudden movement but he returned the kiss anyway.

S/o leaned forward on him, hands finding his wrist and pinning them. She wicked onto his lower lip, biting it slightly. The god groaned, opening his mouth, giving her the perfect opportunity to claim it. There was no battle for dominance, only simple sweet submissiveness.

Sliding her body downwards, she left his still gasping lips, going down until her mouth met his neck. She mouthed his throat all over, nipping at all of his sweet spots that she had spent thousands of years memorizing. Each one granted a new sound of pure desperation.

Finally she pulled away, releasing Raiden from her hold. She took a moment to look at her work. Raiden leaned against the post, panting, his hair messy, his lip bleeding and small dark marks beginning to form on his throat.

Yes, this was going to be a very long night indeed.

Part 2

[whenimaunicorn]

The Heart of Admiration - Part 7

Charles Vane x OFC

In which some things are left unspoken that perhaps should be said, and others are uttered that definitely should not have been.

Prompt:  “Looking for mermaids?” Content: introspection, sex-negative attitudes, crass objectification, angst, angst, angst. Catch up here.

Notes: I’m embarrassed to admit how long it’s been since I posted the last part, so I’m not even going to look up the date. Especially since this chapter resumes right where the last one left off! I hope you can remember what was going on with all that “Mrs. Vane” nonsense, because none of the other characters are letting Hope (or Charles) forget it... Also, fair warning, this ends on an cliffhanger, but I do have most of the rest already written and hopefully will be able to put it out in a more timely manner. Words: 2300

It's so much worse than she had thought. Bad enough that Captain Vane might now have the impression that she feels some romantic inclination towards him, but to learn that it’s spread to the entire crew, too? Jack’s words have set her to brooding all the more intently. Hope barely even noticed him depart.

Because . . . she doesn’t feel that way about Charles Vane. Does she? What face could she be making, that Jack thinks he sees longing in her eyes when she contemplates their captain? A ridiculous notion.

And yet. Hope has never believed in lying to herself. A capable woman faces all of the facts head-on. To do otherwise would leave a lady trapped. Outmaneuvered. Society thrives on the soul-numbing lies it requires women to tell themselves. And Hope’s most fervent promise to herself was to leave that sort of thing behind.

No self-deception, then. When she thinks of Charles Vane, her chest warms. His presence on deck sets her heart beating faster, and the effect is not solely due to his authority, is it. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does she listens eagerly, interested in every rare glimpse into his mind.

Bother. Jack might be onto something. 

Those stray thoughts she suffered through in the wee hours last night may not only have been sparked by Vane’s unusual proximity. The warmth in her body spreads lower.

When she turned to piracy, leaving Society, she abandoned its restrictions. This included a short period in which she satisfied certain curiosities. So her maidenhead is gone. Its passing was . . . anticlimactic. She hasn’t thought much about sex since then. Pities the women required to perform that marital duty on a nightly basis, if she’s being honest. And she’s quite motivated to keep to her course now, a life of independence that will hopefully culminate in the acquisition of a small fortune sufficient to set up her own comfortable retirement by the time age starts to stiffen her joints.

She’s surprised, then, to find the notion hidden in the depths of her mind that with Vane, such intimacy could be different. The way his hand had molded itself around her thigh last night, the feel of his arms around her and his breath against her neck when he’d smelled her perfume. Her body had responded so much more vigorously than expected.

But it was probably just the drink. And reactions such as those are always fleeting, aren’t they. Such feelings are not an acceptable reason to risk her respectful place on this crew by tumbling into bed with its captain.

Hope turns away from the rail, puts her back to the sea and gathers her thoughts into a forceful summary of conclusions. Yes, it seems she is harboring a certain affection for Charles Vane. But it’s manageable. Not something she is going to allow to interrupt her plans. If she can just figure out how to wipe the dreamy schoolgirl look off her face that certain perceptive members of the crew have apparently noticed, she should be fine. Because it’s not like her feelings are returned. He would have made a move by now. She remembers her early suspicions, that Vane might be attracted to her, but things had settled, quite comfortably, between them since then. She’s almost embarrassed to have been prideful enough to have thought it.

That issue being settled, she marches herself back up to the helm to adjust their course and sets her thoughts to things that are truly important.

~*~

Fellows pulls through; the cache is there, and no soldiers in sight. They make quick work of hauling it all onto the Ranger. The sun is slanting low by the time they’re done; they’ve had to swing around the long way to avoid being spotted by anyone that could later connect their ship to the theft.

Days like these remind Vane why he’s so grateful to have such a skilled navigator, who can locate their position so precisely that they can leave the sight of land and come back in at such an exact, advantageous angle. Swoop in on the cache from nowhere, and swoop right back out again. They’re like ghosts today.

Rich ghosts. He’d never hear the end of it if he ever drove her away with his clumsy, misguided affections.

Vane knows he will have to be very careful tonight. Their ship could not be seen returning from the location of the cache, and there was not enough time to return Mr. Fellows home from a more roundabout angle before sundown. Which meant their guide was spending the night on the ship, bunking with the crew, and Hope . . . Hope would of course be sleeping in the captain’s quarters with her “husband.”

Vane exhales, fingers gripping the railing as if the wood might impart some of its steadfastness. To have had her unexpectedly in his arms was one thing. A pure, heavenly moment that had caught him by surprise. It was quite another to know that she was to spend the night with him again. How could he possibly stay calm, and feel her body just beside his, in his own narrow bed?

It would be a simple thing to sneak a hammock into his quarters, of course. He feels his face burn a bit as he becomes aware that he’d like to pretend that particular solution had just never occurred to him.

Hope’s smart. She will definitely think of it herself, anyway.

~*~

Hope finds herself down by the guns. It’s not her turn to help with the cleaning and re-setting, but she doesn’t want to be anywhere near Fellows, or Vane, or the boisterous crew in the mess. Besides, she likes being seen doing extra work; helps combat many of the prejudices about a lady on board. She settles in next to Stevens, one of the handful of her old Starling crew that had been accepted with her into the Ranger’s fold.

“Mrs. Vane,” he says by way of greeting just as she starts the scrubbing. He doesn’t say it like the other crewmen had. There’s scorn in his voice, and perhaps a hint of a question.

Hope scowls. “Not you, too.”

Stevens nods, as if she’s passed his test. They work in companionable silence for a while, until the only other man on this deck stretches, stows his tools, and exits via the ladder. Probably sneaking off now that Hope has effectively taken his spot. Only then does Stevens speak. “Been hopin’ you’d come talk to me.”

Hope looks up, without pausing her work.

“Seem to be finding your place here.”

“Everyone has use for a good navigator.”

“More than that. Look like you’re fitting in.”

“Do I?”

“Or is this just what you do. Make people like you. Find your way to the top, the inner circle, even if you’re just making the best of it.”

There’s a bitterness to the way he’s speaking, but Hope doesn’t feel like it’s directed at her, necessarily. Stevens has always had friendly feelings for her, that’s why he followed her to this crew. She decides to say very little, invite him to say a little more. “Can you blame me?”

“Guess not. You’ve always had a way with people.” He glances at the hatch, though there’s no one there. “Big take today,” he comments.

Hope grunts in agreement.

“Biggest we’ve had, since leaving Nassau.” He puts a little more oil on his rag. “Big enough to make up for the Starling.”

Hope’s hands stop moving. She forces them to continue. “I . . . hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Stevens sniffs, a sudden rush of nose-clearing air. “We have. Me and some of the boys.”

He has to mean the rest of the Starling crew. There’s four more of them, those that Vane hadn’t seen a need to punish for her brother-in-law’s stunt, fine seamen who hadn’t seemed like a mutiny risk to Jack when he recruited them out of the splinters of that disbanded crew. Hope had even vouched for them.

Apparently Jack can’t be right about everything.

“With your help, Hope, it’d be easy.”

~*~

Vane’s quiet contemplation is interrupted by Jack’s voice. “Looking for mermaids?” he asks, joining his captain on the deserted stretch of deck and staring down into the dark waters alongside him. The ship is safely hidden in a cove, and most of the crew are down in the mess for their nightly meal.

Vane replies with a rather rude gesture.

“No, there’s only one maid you’re interested in.”

Vane looks up sharply.

“Has a nice ring to it, ‘Mrs. Vane.’ I suppose that’s why the crew can’t seem to stop saying it.”

He grunts. “Torturing her.”

“Maybe just a little.”

Jack lapses into silence, but Vane is certain that won’t last for long. Maybe he should walk away now, avoid the question that is sure to be coming next. However . . . Vane can’t stop asking it of himself, either. So he may as well just let Jack say it.

“I’m out of more subtle advice,” Jack says. “And you never were one for subtlety, anyway. So here’s this: if you want her, just take her already.”

Not exactly what Vane thought he’d hear. He shifts, looks more squarely at Jack, and plays dumb with his reply. “I have.”

“Not onto your crew. It’s obvious how much you want her in your bed.” He’s eying Vane closely.

Is this what Jack thinks of him? He’d always pegged Jack as a bit of a romantic, seeing how well he treats Anne. He’d been bracing himself for a conversation about deep feelings. Not this crassness. “And as a member of my crew,” Vane growls in reply, “she’s got full rights here. I can’t have her by force.”

“Who says you need to force her?”

This is not what Vane wanted to hear, either. The last thing he needs is to build up a false hope. “Lay off, Jack. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turns squarely back toward the water.

“You really can’t tell.”

“I’ve tried flirting with her, Jack. When we first got her. She rejected me quite squarely.”

“Sometimes I wonder what it is you consider to be ‘flirting,” Charles, when most of your experience is with whores who already know how your coin spends.” Or girls looking to yoke his power, but at least Jack was kind enough not to mention that part. “Is it possible your approach lacks a certain . . . art?”

“Don’t say you’re offering to teach me,” he growls.

Jack’s hand flutters in the air. “You’re a lost cause anyway.”

“I’ve already resolved to never try again.”

“But why?” Jack leans over the rail, seeking his eyes. “She’s as smitten as you are; I don’t see how you can’t see it.” He sighs. “You’re too much alike, too proud and too timid, both at once, to see what’s right in front of you.”

“I know what’s in front of me,” Vane retorts, choosing to ignore the accusation of cowardice. Because he likes Jack. He’s let him get away with worse without rearranging his face over it. He can let this one go too. He takes a deep breath, and feels himself scowling. “I’m not going to say anything to her. Leave it, Jack. You weren’t there this morning. When she woke up and found herself in bed with me . . .  she made her lack of interest abundantly clear.”

Jack is shaking his head. “I can’t believe that. More likely you’ve scared her off with your extreme stoicism. How is she to know of your interest, if you’re not giving any signs of it?”

Vane looks over from the corner of his eye. “If I’m not giving any signs, then how can you be so certain that you know my heart?”

Jack claps him on the shoulder. “Because I know you too well, Charles. I know your tells. And you’ve gone through too much trouble to capture this bird.”

Vane growls his disagreement with that choice of phrasing.

Jack keeps barreling on. “Yes, yes. She’s a great value to the crew. But that’s not why you took her.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Is that not what you did? You saw what you wanted, and you got control of her. We didn’t have to come down so hard on the Starling. But you needed to stake your claim. Now I feel like we’re all just holding our breaths. I’ve never seen you like this. You took her, I don’t understand why now you won’t take her. Tough as she is, she’s too much a maid to be the one to take the initiative. She might even be a virgin still. In need of a strong, experienced hand like yours to guide the way.”

Vane grunts, he can’t help it. He’s been trying so hard not think this way, but Jack’s words bring unbidden images to his mind. Hope’s wide eyes, looking up at him from his pillow. The softness of her flesh; the sounds she’d make if he—

Jack’s still talking. “God knows you both could use it. And she won’t be getting it anywhere else, not with you looming over her as you are. So why don’t you get on with it? Scoop her up and throw her in your bed. Hope’s not more than a bird you’re keeping in a cage if you keep going on like this.”

“Is that what I am.” Hope Wickham herself materializes from the shadow at the end of the deck. How long had she been standing there, listening, fuming? Long enough, judging by the look on her face. Charles Vane feels his heart sink down to his knees.

On to Part 8

Taglist is open: @navigatrixnarrations​ @ladyhubris​ @summertimesadness101 @23orso @n3rdybird​ @bitchyikes​

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (new beginnings)

Summary: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - Also, a talk about Merlin and grief. It’s big feelings time. (part two)

Warnings: Swearing, theres like three bad puns and at least one meme im sorry

Word Count: 2713

A/N: inspired by the fact that i recently moved states and it was the most tedious trip ever. It took the entire day. i was bored out of my mind. So i decided to write about going on a long boring roadtrip with Douxie instead. also, i have a black cat myself and i can attest that they are little domesticated demons. she didn’t like the long trip either.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Douxie deadpanned when he saw (Name) run up to join him on the ship, perching on the edge. “Well I’m coming with you, obviously.” Douxie had known the young woman long enough to know that there would not be a point in arguing. They would just go round and round for hours before she ultimately won. She fought dirty, puppy dog eyes and all. He didn’t have time for this.

After making sure that Archie and Nari were secure, Doux turned back to (Name), “You’re absolutely sure about this decision, love? Once we take off there’s no going back. We could even be running for the rest of our lives. You really should stay with the others,” he warned.

She looked annoyed. “Yes, Doux. I am absolutely sure. I wouldn’t want you to do this alone. And besides, you’ll need me.”

He blushed for a second before realizing she meant he would need her as in extra backup and not that he needed her needed her. Trying not to show the slight disappointment that was written on his face, he chuckled and covered his cheek with his palm, “Of course.”

They set off into the early morning sky. After waving goodbye to the rest of the gang, (Name) clung to the golden railing, looking out over California in amazement. It was like she was in a movie. This was her life changing magic carpet ride. Of course, a lot about her life had seemed to be out of a movie lately. Ever since she discovered her gift for sorcery. Ever since she got mixed up in all this Arcadian mess. Ever since she met Douxie.

Surprisingly, Douxie was really talkative for the first few hours of the trip. (Name) had expected him to be a bit more closed off, considering the week they had just gone through. He was really gushy too, with his heart on his sleeve even more so than usual, and that’s saying something for Douxie. Maybe momentary death was good for unclogging heart pipes.  (Name) was loving it. Not the momentary death thing. That had almost stopped her heart. No, it was so nice to be having such lighthearted conversation with her friends. Kept her from dwelling on things. Once night got closer, though, she couldn’t help it. What could she say, the pink splattered purple sunset made her sentimental. She and Douxie had slipped into a little talk about Arcadia, about the kids, about what had happened, and about what was next for them. Despite her gushing about how happy she was to be here with him, Douxie still felt really guilty that he put her through all this. She made the mistake of telling him how much it scared her, everything that happened earlier. She made a bigger mistake telling him how she cried over his body, refusing to accept that he was gone. He wasn’t of course, but she didn’t know that.

He suddenly got quiet after that. The conversation lulled. Even Nari and Archie seemed to sense that something was off and kept quiet. After watching the stars roll by in silence for a few hours, (Name) started to feel the tug of sleep. She tried to find a cozy spot, but failed, because she was on a ship. A pretty basic little vessel. There were no seats or anything even kind of cushiony. She contemplated using Archie as a pillow, but that probably wouldn’t fly well with him. Pun intended.

Douxie was still as statue, staring out straight ahead into the clouds. Like a grizzled old sea captain. The bags under his eyes were getting worse than usual, but (Name) decided to not to say anything to him and let it be. He looked like he was enjoying the silence. She didn’t think he’d sleep tonight. How could he? She mused. (Name) herself hadn’t even begun to truly process all that had happened. She wished she knew what to say. Anything to comfort him, to let him know she’s be there. But (Name) was no use now, in her sleepy state. She might make it worse. She’d try talking to him in the morning. If he even wanted to talk.

In the end, (Name) wound up leaning against the corner, using her balled up over-shirt as a pillow. It was a bit colder now, but with Nari snuggled up in her lap and Archie stretched out over her legs, she’d be just fine. They might as well had been heaters. Doux wouldn’t join them, insisting that they needed to fly through the entire night to put as much distance between them and Arcadia as possible. He assured them that he’d wake them up if something was the matter. Of course, they were sleeping on an open deck floor. Any sort of trouble would wake them up immediately anyway, but it was a nice thought. (Name) snuggled into her makeshift pillow. She took one last look at Douxie, brooding at the helm, before slipping off to dreamland. It was a mediocre dream.

The morning sun came sooner than (Name) wanted. The cheeky bugger. There was no use trying to go back to sleep. The sun was too big and bright. so, so bright. Nari also stirred when the sun beam hit her face. She blinked blearily and let out a cute yawn. Or at least it would have been cute, had it not been directly into (Name)’s face. (Name) had to give it to Nari though, her morning breath actually didn’t smell bad. It was earthy, floral even. Damn nature spirits. Despite (Name) and Nari being awake, the sun’s rays seemed to have little to no effect on Archie. He could sleep through anything, on anything, at any time. Damn cats.

Douxie looked like the dead. His raven hair was a mess, lips chapped from the wind. Those eyebags had somehow gotten even worse. Douxie gave Tim Burton characters a run for their money. (Name) decided it might be better to wait until she was a bit more awake and articulate to try and talk to him more about… the, ah, events from yesterday. Yet, she was fully aware that if she kept procrastinating, the conversation was just going to get worse and worse. But the timing’s not right. Yes, the timing’s just not right. The stars, they’re not in position. In fact it might be easier if she got him to take a nap first. Yeah, no need to cause sleep deprived Douxie to have an unnecessary breakdown.

It took some convincing, but (Name) finally got him to agree to let her take the helm and get that well deserved rest. Not that Douxie thought he deserved it. He wasn’t too happy about leaving (Name) and Nari alone, figuratively, while he was unconscious and unable to protect them. He wasn’t too happy about a lot of things, really. He especially didn’t care to be alone with his subconscious. But with the worried look (Name) gave him, he couldn’t help but comply with her demands. Her and her bloody puppy dog eyes.

He woke up to the sound of (Name)’s singing. She probably hadn’t meant to wake him up, with her soft voice hushed, but nonetheless he was awake. Douxie was a light sleeper. He had to be, after all his troublesome years. She was singing a sweet little love song. He felt a drumming in his chest as he listened. Speaking of his chest, there seemed to be a bit of pressure on it. A familiar pressure. It started to purr, sending the comforting vibrations through his ribcage. He gave Arch a good scritch behind the ears before sitting up.

“Your voice is so lovely, you know. I cannot imagine why you’re always hiding it.”

Name startled. “Did I wake you?” she asked, concerned since he hadn’t been out but for a few hours.

“Yes, you had,” He began gently, “But, I’m glad.”

“You’re glad?”

“Of course, I got to hear that beautiful singing voice of yours. Quite the rarity, innit?”

(Name) flushed. She wasn’t sure if she was flattered by his compliments or embarrassed that he had caught her singing once again. Still, she tried to refute his words but all that came out was a flustered sputter. Thankfully, Nari came to the rescue. Unintentionally, but a rescue all the same.

“Hisirdoux, now that you are awake, may I ask where it is that we are going?” the small goddess asked.

“Oh, uh, about that,” Doux wrapped his arms behind his back and sucked some air through his teeth, “I actually didn’t have a set place in mind. I think we’ll just wing it. On our winged boat.”

(Name) whipped her head towards him so fast she’d get whiplash. She didn’t even acknowledge the terrible joke. “I’m terribly sorry, but you what.”

“I just thought we’d head northeast for now. Once we run out of land, we’ll pick a new direction. It’s not like we’d be able to stay too long in a place, after all. It’s safer to be constantly moving.” He tried not to sound to unsure in this rambling. He did have a plan, just not one that looked too solid on a piece of paper. It’ll be fine. They’ll be fine.

“I- okay.” She didn’t sound too panicked, which Douxie counted as a win. Still, he didn’t want her to be too stressed about the uncertainties. He figured he might as well just pick a place to ease her fears a bit. She couldn’t worry herself raw, that was his job.

“How about New York City? That can be our first official destination on the Never-Ending Roadtrip.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. New York City, that sounds nice.” Victory.

***

“Ugh, we’ve been flying over basically the same damn thing forever! Can’t this thing go any faster?” (Name) whined as she leaned over the edge like a wilted flower. Her wind-mussed hair hung over her face. It took everything in Douxie not to flinch whenever she got to close to where she might fall out. Sure, she would most likely be able to break her fall with magic, not coming out with too many scratches, but it still scared him just the same. (Name) was gonna give him a heart attack one of these days.

“It’s a fucking magical flying boat, (Name). It goes eighty miles per hour tops. Do you know how advanced that was in the twelfth century? It was a fucking miracle of technology, (Name). It’s not the boat’s fault we’re currently travelling through Kansas.” Doux huffed. He quickly felt guilty for snapping at her and apologized. He felt a bit on edge lately. Their conversation last night kind of freaked him out. He wanted to be a little more protective of her now since she told him about how scared she was, but snapping at her would just accomplish the opposite of getting across how much he cared.

Name sighed. Looking around the ship, she noticed that Nari and Archie were just napping in the sun, completely unbothered by her and Douxie’s loud outbursts. She looked back out into the seemingly infinite grass field again.

“Well, I guess now is a pretty good time,” She said cryptically, “Hisirdoux, we need to talk.”

It was like she just injected ice water into his veins. He didn’t like her tone, plus, those words were never proceeded by something good. Never. “To talk?” he asked with a nervous tinge in his voice, hoping if she elaborated it wouldn’t be as bad as the conclusions he was jumping to.

“Yeah. Talk. About your feelings.” Well now he was panicking. She said that so solemnly. How did she know? Fuzzbuckets, she was about to reject him, on this boat they were stuck on, in the middle of Kansas. Rip out his heart and throw it into the grassy void.

“To talk, about my feelings?” he repeated her again, incredulously. He put on his best fake smile.

“Yes, Doux.” She sat down on the railing near him and crossed her legs. “I just- I think it’s time we had a proper conversation about stuff. Like say, I don’t know, how you’re handling your grief over a certain mentor.”

Douxie quickly let go of the breath, he wasn’t sure when he started holding, in a loud sigh of relief. Oh thank Merlin, he thought this was going to be bad. That’s what she wanted to talk about? Okay, not the problem he was expecting, but one he could deal with. He’s already had a couple of good cries. He spent most of last night mulling over not just Merlin but the whole concept of death. He could talk about the weight of grief hanging over his heart, no big deal.

“I believe I am handling it well, thank you for your concern, Love.” He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Hisirdoux Casperan, you stared out into the distance with unblinking glassy eyes for hours last night and barely spoke to any of us. Hell, you fucking died yesterday, Doux. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that. You’re not fine. And you’re not weaseling your way out of this conversation either.” She said sternly. They entered an unspoken staring contest.

“Alright, Love, fine. I am fine. Okay?” She quirked her brow. “I am, truly. I’m at peace. He lived a good life and I’ll continue his legacy with honour. Of course I’m still sad about it, but I’ve got other things to focus on right now. Sure, my chest is still heavy, but it’s not crushing like it was when the wound was fresh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “And I did get my last goodbye talk with him when I was dead,” He chuckled to try and lighten that last bit up, but name still winced at his words.

“Douxie, I just- I know what it’s like, ya know. To suddenly no longer have that father figure in your life. Someone you looked up to for so long. It’s hard Doux, I get that.” She sympathized. She tipped her head down towards the deck floor.

“Well, in a way, he’s already been gone for about, say, nine centuries. I’ve had my time away from him, so I know that I can do it. It’s the knowing that now he’s gone gone that’s the real kicker.” He glanced across the boat over to the sleeping pile of fur and greenery. Nari was curled up into a ball while Archie mirrored the same, but on top of her. They were like a couple of stacked buns. Douxie smiled at the sight. “And yet, do you know what makes it all feel better?” Name looked back up at him and furrowed her brows.

“You. And Archie. And Zoe. And Claire. And my bandmates and my coworkers and the rest of the Arcadia gang. I’ve got plenty of people in the world now. I know I’ve got all kinds of love.”  He hung his arm over her shoulders. He had made up his mind, he was going to open his heart to her soon. Almost dying really puts one’s priorities in view. “Recently, a great man, well, a great dragon, told me that family is not just who you have, it’s also who you’re with. If one thing I’ve learned in this nightmare week, it’s that you’ve got to enjoy people while you can. Because once they’re gone, they’re gone. You can’t dwell on past love, you’ve got to soak in the love you’ve got now, or you’ll miss it.”

“I guess I understand that.” (Name) said softly. She took in his words. Focus on the now love, huh. She could use to do that too. She felt his hand move from her shoulder to the small of her back.

“Oh hey look at that, we’re coming up on Missouri. How about we stop for brunch, Love?”

“Oh I’m starving,” Archie butt into the conversation and flew over to rest on (Name)’s shoulder. He did one of those black cat yawns where they turn their entire faces inside out and they become nothing more than a black hole with teeth, “I could really go for a bagel with extra lox right now.”

[jessiewritesthings]

Saudade - Epilogue

Prince Zuko x Reader

Here she is!! Saudade is my baby and i’m so happy and so grateful for everyone that has taken the time to read this, i love you all! thank you thank you thank you x

Part I - Part II - Part III

168 AG

Izumi smiled softly, flipping through the pages of the family album. Black and white photos dotted the pages, documenting the life you had shared with Zuko for more than seventy years. Images of you and Zuko at the helm of numerous Fire Lily Festivals, visiting Fire Nation Citizens, meeting with delegates from all over the Four Nations. The images Izumi liked the most were the ones with all your friends in them – as a child she had thought it was just the coolest thing that her parents were best friends with the Avatar.

She also particularly loved the photos you would take on your vacations to Ember Island – loved how proudly you held yourself, scar and all. Most people would take to hiding away, a scar so bad as yours was enough reason to, Izumi had figured. She knew her father struggled with it every day – no matter how many times you tried to comfort him, he always saw it as a sign of his weakness, a reminder of the cruelty that Azula and Ozai, and the rest of his predecessors had put the world through.

Your life with Zuko hadn’t always been easy, though it had definitely been worth it. Numerous assassination attempts on the both of you had plagued your first few years together, and the backlash from Zuko’s advisors as he proposed and promptly married you, crowning you his Fire Lady, hadn’t gone down particularly easy. Nonetheless, you were stronger together, and in time the Fire Nation grew to love you, just as they did Zuko.

Izumi sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek as she closed the album, placing it on the corner table before joining her father on the balcony.

“Izumi, my dear,” Zuko murmured, reaching for her hand as she placed it on his shoulder.

Izumi stood silently with her father, watching as their guest’s ships began to depart. If she squinted, she could see Katara with Tenzin and Pema, waving as Pema wrangled with Jinora and Ikki, young Meelo clinging to his father. Raising his hand to wave in return, Zuko thought about how desperately he wanted Aang, or his Uncle Iroh around – someone that could help him come to terms with the most devastating blow he’d been dealt yet.

It had been two weeks now, since Zuko had woken to find you cold, yet soft and peaceful in his arms. Your arms had still been pressed across his chest, the same groove you always found yourselves sleeping in, legs pushed together like you were two halves of a whole – which, in a way, you were. Zuko had swallowed down his fear, and his cry for help, as he looked at you, softly brushing your white hair from your face, his fingers delicately running the beads along the strands.

“Oh, my sweet y/n,” he had whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his tears starting to fall over your face. He stayed there with you, unable and unwilling to move, as if he stayed still forever you might open your eyes and greet him. His eyes didn’t move from your form when his attendant, Mira, entered the room, a tray of hot breakfast and steaming tea in her arms.

The tray was quickly placed on the side table as Mira rushed to the bedside, gasping in shock.

“Lord Zuko,” she started, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Mira, please.” He let go of you now, gently removing himself from your bed, as if trying not to rouse you.

Mira came to his side, placing an arm on Lord Zuko’s shoulder before he smiled softly at her and pulled her into a hug. Zuko continued to cry, comforted by Mira. You had been loved and admired by all of the palace staff, and many of them had requested to follow you and Zuko when you had moved to Ember Island following Zuko’s abdication as Fire Lord.

“The Lady y/n will be remembered fiercely, Lord Zuko. The Fire Nation’s most delicate flower.”

Zuko smiled, fondly remembering the first time he had introduced you to his dragon, Druk. Zuko had the utmost confidence in the dragon, and you had been positively terrified – not because he was a giant fire-breathing dragon – you’d proven yourself more than capable of handling fire by now – but he was just so big. Nonetheless, you had mounted Druk, and shrieked in surprise as Zuko leapt off the dragon, watching as you soared into the sky, your wild hair flowing as you clutched onto Druk’s scales. Zuko was positively enamoured – he’d already spent a lifetime loving you, but seeing you ride Druk with such tenacity and grit had sent him straight into the past, flying through all your history until you were both back in the Crystal Catacombs in Ba Sing Se. Zuko was enchanted by you, and he knew he would be until his heart stopped beating.

You were beaming as Druk had landed, your hair windswept and your blue robes loose, exhilarated. Leaping off the dragon, you ran to Zuko’s arms, flinging yourself to him as your arms found their natural home, your lips pressing to his scar.

“Zuko, that was incredible,” you’d exclaimed, astounded.

“Mmm, it certainly was.” Zuko smiled – watching you ride Druk was better than being in the reigns himself.

“My Dragon Queen,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses against your neck, the spot he knew you loved the most.

_____

Zuko sat with his daughter until the sun had entirely disappeared, and then they sat together for longer, watching the night as the stars began to dapple across the sky, the moon incandescent in its beauty as it graced the sky. They sat silently, hands clasped together, tucked into a patchwork quilt you had made for Izumi’s birth – a delicate, stunning piece of work that seamlessly incorporated both sides of you and Zuko, magical swirls of red and blue speckled with gems and beads.

Izumi twirled the blue beads adorning the quilt through her fingers, recalling the countless nights that she would rouse you both from sleep, claiming to be plagued by nightmares. You never complained, always opening your arms to pull her in, letting her nestle in-between you and Zuko where she would sleep freely. Sometimes, before sleep took her, Izumi would feel your fingers drifting through her hair, and she would fall asleep in such a tranquil, safe space.

Eventually Izumi heard stories about her grandfather Ozai – horrifying stories of what he’d done to the world, his nation, his family. She’d never asked her father about his scar – in-fact it never occurred to her as a child that it deviated from malicious intent, because her mother had one too. In Izumi’s young mind, she used to imagine that the two of you being scarred was just the spirits way of making sure you found each other, as if your scars acted as magnets that would bring you together wherever you were.

“I was so lucky to have her love me, Izumi,” Zuko hummed, voice raspy. “I always knew I would love her, after we first met. Your mother, she was magic. Ethereal. It has been the greatest honour of my life to love her, and that love brought me the greatest gift: you.”

Izumi smiled fondly at her father, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“She was lucky to have your love, too.”

Lord Zuko turned to his daughter, a soft smile gracing his face. She was an excellent Fire Lord, and he recalled the time Ursa had told him that a Fire Lord producing a nonbending child was a disgrace in Ozai’s eyes. Of course, Ozai was wrong. Izumi was not a bender, but Zuko constantly found himself in awe of his daughter’s calm demeanour, and when he abdicated his throne, he had never been prouder of Izumi as she was crowned Fire Lord.

Izumi’s birth had not been easy for you – she was a stubborn babe, and you’d been in labour for hours – days actually, as you later found out. Katara was assisting you, and Aang had taken Zuko away to keep him distracted – it was awfully improper for a husband to be present at a birth of course. Naturally, that didn’t deter you, and you constantly pleaded with Katara and your handmaiden to please, please, please get Zuko. As Zuko and Aang returned to the palace, Fire Lord Zuko was informed that your child still had not been delivered. Anxiety consumed him, and to the horror of his advisors he’d dashed to your chambers, grasping your hand and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you finally delivered a healthy, beautiful, precious baby girl.

Zuko was enamoured with Izumi immediately, and would often be found after a particularly highly-strung meeting with his advisors sitting on the balcony in Izumi’s nursery, holding his soft, sweet girl in his arms. Before Izumi was born, Zuko had confided in you that he wasn’t sure about his ability to be a father – he wanted to be a good father so much that it overwhelmed him, and he wasn’t able to comprehend it. He’d blurted it out in the middle of a game of Pai Sho, neither of you knowing that you were in-fact already carrying the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation. You’d reached your arm across the board, hand gently caressing Zuko as you gave him a reassuring smile.

“You will be magnificent, my love. Any children we have will grow to see their father the same way I do – brave, intelligent, loving and kind.”

Zuko took your hands, pressing them to his lips as he watched you, shadows from the flames flickering across your face.

“Have I told you that I’m madly in love with you?” he replied, a cheeky grin forming. Forgetting the game of Pai Sho, you crept over to his side, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Not nearly enough,” you answered, your lips pressing together as Zuko put his hands in your hair, pulling his fingers through.

“I’m madly in love with you, y/n. Every minute of every day.”

175 AG

Lord Zuko stirred softly in his sleep, out on the balcony as usual – you had spent most of your time here curled up together, after all. He was smiling softly, thinking of you as he always did. It had been an interesting few years without you, but nothing could fill the void that was left inside Zuko after you left. He would often wake from a restless sleep, desperately clutching the sheets as if you were there, only to be disappointed every time. He played many games of Pai Sho with Mira, and she would sit with him each evening, enjoying a cup of tea on the balcony as they kept each other company. Most often, Zuko would sit on the loveseat in the balcony, your favourite blanket draped across him for comfort instead of warmth. He’d sit there with his tea, usually forgetting it as he would drift into a deep sleep, visited by you and your memories together.

“Come, Zuko. Let’s go down to the beach,” you urged.

The sun was setting on Ember Island, and you were due to return to the palace tomorrow, Fire Lord duties to be resumed. Iroh had graciously stepped in in place of Zuko to allow the pair of you to have on ‘official’ honeymoon, something you were both incredibly grateful for.

Slipping your hand into his, you’d made your way down to the beach, both barefoot and revelling in the soothing nature of the sand. You’d let go of him now, running through the waves as they crashed on the shore. Zuko couldn’t do much more than stare at you – your hair shined in the fading sun, the red hues making you look delicious and warm. Your gown wrapped around your waist, unravelled slowly, revealing your scar. Zuko grimaced, a flash of pain echoing on his face. Seeing this, you ran to his side, placing your hands in his.

“I just…,” he started, swallowing. “I just wish I could take it away, for you.”

“Don’t, my love. It is as much a part of me as yours is you. I am proud to have this scar. Proud of what it represents for us, for all that we’ve been through. I don’t want you to feel this way every time you look at me.”  

Zuko smiled softly, pressing his lips to your forehead.  

“I look at you, and I am alive.”

Zuko placed his hands on your waist as you wrapped yours around his neck.

“Dance with me,” you whispered. Zuko blushed – forever the one with two left feet – and the two of you danced, softly, delicately, holding each other as if all the love in the world had been given to only you both in that moment. Water rushed over your feet as you moved across the sand. A laugh escaped you as Zuko caught his foot on yours, accidentally tripping you up as you both fell into the sand, water lapping at your feet. Sighing, you ran your fingers through his hair as you rested on top of him.

“I think I loved you the moment I saw you. Even if I didn’t know it then,” you’d whispered, gazing into his eyes. Zuko had raised his head slightly, watching you carefully, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “We will be remembered, Zuko. For the right reasons.”

Pulling himself off the sand, Zuko lent back, allowing you to shuffle into his arms. You sat silently together, watching as the stars began to dot across the night sky, peaceful and content like neither of you had ever felt before.

Zuko woke slowly, the first rays of the new day dawning. You stood before him, hazy and radiant and celestial in your beauty, before reaching one hand out to him.

“Come, Zuko. There’s still so much more to see.”

Zuko’s eyes closed, a long, deep breath escaping for one final time. He was in his dreams now – dreaming his dreams with you.

_____

“Lord Zuko,” Mira called, unsurprised to find the elderly Lord had once again slept on his balcony.

Mira approached him, a gasp of shock leaving her as she realised just how peaceful he looked. In his hands he held a small, silver hair clip, adorned with white and blue gems and beads.

Ah. Together again.

_____

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yiyibetch

[zonnemaagd]

Diary of Kuinslosn Deisn, with translator’s notes

Throwing this up here again. It's the first part of Phei's favourite book growing up, the chronicles of Kuinlosn Deisn, a Eastfaric scholar who took it upon themselves to travel to Morkuria a few years after the end of the civil war. It's mostly something I write on the side so it's rough and unpolished but hopefully still enjoyable! Translator's notes are in italics.

Ð18 127, early spring

Today is the day I, Archseer of the College of Blightstone, will travel to the sapphire seas and set foot on Morkurian coast. The treaty has been in place for years but finding a sailor adept at crossing those treacherous seas has proven difficult. Nonetheless, dear Kousei has been a lifesaver once more. Apparently, my sailor is a Morkurian Soncheon. I’ve read about the crocodilelike beings, but never did I dare to dream that I would meet one in person. I’ve been studying the language books for months, hoping that we may have a conversation or two, but will have to wait and see how deep my grasp of the language is.

-x-

The ship was easy to spot. It's much smaller and narrower than the ships of our continent. It only had two masts and a small raise at the end for the helm. The crew itself is small as well, made up of only three humans and our captain. Speaking of the captain, she is even taller than the books describe Soncheon typically to be. Although her legs are shorter than human legs, her chest and alligator-esque head makes her at least two pikes (that's roughly 25 centimeters) taller me. Her head is at least 2 pikes long as well with maybe four vases (88) of teeth. Even more, I expected her reptile skin to be dark green, but our captain’s skin is as green as a lime! A dozen tattoos are drawn upon her skin (is this the famous Soncheon gem-based ink I’ve read so much about? I’d have to inquire further).

The captain complimented me on my command of the Quadric tongue, though I've also made my first mistake as well... confusing the word for captain with wasp, introducing myself as “My name is Kuinslosn Deisn, honoured to be at your ship, Wasp.” I don’t think that my cheeks have ever been redder.

Perhaps I’ll jump overboard.

Moving on; My sleeping quarters are minimalistic but comfortable enough. I enter through a trapdoor in the deck and have a hammock to sleep in and a table to write on. The journey should only take two moons, so my comfort isn’t the priority.

-x-

We’ve spent quite long on sea now. I tried to keep track of the number of passed suns but failed miserably. The captain has given me the nickname bee. It seems that I will not be thrown overboard just yet. I tried to get to know her but she is more reserved than I initially thought. She’s told me that she travelled to Eastfarin for business, but then quickly changed the subject when I asked for more details. I won’t push further for now, since I’d like to keep myself aboard the ship, instead of next to it.

Sidenote: I keep hearing strange noises in the night. Things moving at the lower desk. I don’t dare to ask but I don’t think that I can keep my curiosity under control for much longer. I think I’ll sneak there in the night.

-x-

Tonight, I went into the storage room looking for the source of the noise. When I opened the trapdoor, I noticed that that a lamp was turned on. Who needs a lit lamp in a storeroom in the middle of the night? (middle of the night is underlined three times). Then the most curious thing happened. The shadows against she crates looked like a human sized creature ! It even seemed like it had some kind of antenna or animalistic ears of a pikeslength on is head! But when I approached the beast all I found was a small mouse enjoying breadcrumbs.

The sea is getting to me. Send help.

-x-

After what seemed like an eternity at sea (the ships logbooks suggest 31 passed suns), we have finally spotted land. On starboard I can see a large landmass. We’re too far away to spot the details, but I think I made out a deck of snow-clad trees. After a few days we could see a coastline on portside that has been similar to the coast back home so far. Soft hills with the occasional forest or shrubs. I wonder why there aren’t any fishing villages on the coast. I’ve seen plenty of fish during in the water during our journey; fish I haven’t seen likes off ever before ! When we reach land, I must find a fisherman to help me differentiate between them ! Red fish, blue fish, long fish short fish… I feel like I am not the woman for this job at all. (A few sketches have been drawn at the sides of the parchment, I assume they are drawings of fish, though without the context they look more like drawings of squashed potatoes.)

-x-

At last, we have reached our destination. The capital of the Omsenian Empire is an even greater sight than I could have possibly imagined. The harbour lies in a mountainous circular bay. The docks are placed wherever people could find a platform to build, ending up in a complete mess of a harbour. The rest of the island appears to be more organised on first glance, with neat streets cutting through the grey buildings. Overlooking the harbour is an exceptionally large but narrow mountain. It has a small platform with red stalls on top of it at the middle, which could be some kind of market that I’d like to explore tomorrow. On top of the mountain stands Anyn Keep. The castle itself isn’t the most impressive of structure, but any building placed on a narrow mountain piercing the clouds is an intimidating sight. There’s only a small circular staircase that leads up to the castle. I feel for the servants who have to carry resources upwards. Unless they have managed to build a lift system on the inside of the mountain, that must be an exhausting way to spend your days. I will look into the castle later. For now, I have to help unload some crates. We’ve already managed to unload the largest one which was substantially lighter than I thought it would be.

-x-

During the unloading I noticed the strangest thing. The light crate I mentioned was completely empty except for that single mouse. I do wonder why Dhaang went through such trouble carrying a massive crate. Alas, I thanked her for the journey, without making any mistakes this time, and travelled into the town. The first thing I did was climb up the nearest hill to take in the harbour in its full glory. Eastfarin’s harbours are clean and organised and while so far, Omsenia has a similar feeling, the harbour feels like a completely different world, ruled by different people. In my walk to the hill, I’ve already seen people’s pockets get emptied and I thought I saw a person getting dragged into a cellar in one of the alleyways. I will be admiring the harbour from a distance, I think.

-x-

I inspected the staircase to the castle and found two extremely grumpy guards ‘guarding it’. They turned me around the moment I approached but I was able to take a good look at the staircase leading up to the castle. It’s a square structure that pushes into the sky. At the top it turns into a bridge that connects to the castle that has been built on top of the mountain. I don’t know Omsenian culture very well, but I can safely assume that they like expressing their power because no sensible engineer would construct such a giant building on a dofe shaped mountain.

(A dofeis a type of fruit found in the western parts of Eastfarin. It’s shaped vaguely like an hourglass.)

Regardless, I must get up there.

-x-

When strolling through town I found a structure shaped like a snake’s head. It was made of stone with a white colour. A white so alive. The whole structure seemed to resonate with a strange sense of energy, almost as if it were alive. (Could this be the white stone that is used in Lamor? ). When I approached it, I noticed that the mouth of the structure actually had a door. A locked one, to be precise. I asked a passer-by about the structure and they said occasionally see people enter in the night. Apparently, it’s part of an ancient ritual where ather come to prove their strength in Omsenia. The kind man told me that every realm has one of those structures and that inside you are supposed to find your greatest fear. I’m not sure if we are old-fashioned back home but having giant lizard statues as a requirement to be called a realm seems… odd? (“Cult??” is scribbled next to the text.) I have come upon the word ather in my research, but I always imagined them to be almost angelic star-blessed warriors. Yet, they seem to be very much real. I wonder if the Scalians of the east hold similar trials? Ather is heavily connotated with Morkurian, thus Empire-based, religion yet the kind man suggested that there were at least 6 while there are only 4 realms in the Empire as of writing this.

-x-

I decided to end my day visiting the Moonfall market, named after the place where the moon was created to battle the void that is the night. Though I do wonder why they’d put a market on a place that bears such significance in Morkurian mythos.

[sheerfreesia007]

Finding Love in Legacy Oaks pt. 8

Title: Finding Love In Legacy Oaks pt. 8

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Original Female Character (OFC)

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Words: 7,632

Warnings: Fluff, mention of bullying

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @synystersilenceinblacknwhite, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo

Author Notes: So we are back! Sorry for taking so long with this. Blame COVID. Anyway Jack’s back! And we’re starting to move onto these two idiots starting to catch feelings for each other. Also the bouquet means something, it’ll be later explained in a later chapter. I love writing out the small little nuances of relationships. Like really love it. I added a little bit of my own childhood in this part when it pertains to Bunny so we’ll come back to that at a later time. Anyway enjoy! I’m excited to get back to writing this like really excited! Woot woot!

Gif Credit: Google

The sea spray misted over the top of the railing as the ship rose and fell with the churning waves. Dark gray clouds covered the sky above the impressive ship as a heavy set fog crept its way along the water. An ominous feeling was settling over the early hours of the day as Jack began to unravel the rope of the main sail so the ship would be able to use the slight breeze to help travel along the sea faster.

The other crewmen were still asleep at this hour and Jack preferred it that way. It gave him more time to observe their captain. Captain Bunny was an eccentric woman who sailed the seas with a firm hand and a sharp sword. She took no quarter and gave no mercy for those who wronged her. But she was a resilient captain who took good care of her crew and made sure that they were all well accounted for.

While Jack admired her guff and grit to be able to captain a crew of unruly men, he couldn’t sleep without dreaming about the captain in certain ways. The captain was a beautiful woman under that lofty title of hers and Jack often fantasized about her visiting him in his cabin late at night. Often when she would visit him in his dreams she was the one in charge and it sent a thrill through Jack’s body just remembering his dream from last night where she made him wear her hat and nothing else.

Looking up to the helm Jack spotted her manning it with a stoic look on her face. She was the only one on deck this morning and Jack found himself gazing at her with an admiring eye. She was wearing an overly large long sleeved white shirt that was still slightly tinged off white no matter how much she washed it. She wore a long button up sleeveless over shirt the color of an emerald. She had one large leather strap running across her chest that held her sword at her hip. Her legs were clad in deep brown trousers that were covered by her worn calf high black boots. She hadn’t donned her signature brown jacket with the gold colored stitching or her Captain’s hat. Her hair was blowing back away from her face in the slight breeze and Jack watched mesmerized as she shut her eyes and tilted her face into the breeze, a soft smile forming on her lips.

Jack knew he could stare at her for hours and still need to see her more. There was just something about the woman that drew him in and locked down on his attention and affection. Just then she turned her head and spotted him, the smile that blossomed onto her lips hit Jack squarely in the chest and stole his breath from him.

“G’mornin’ Jack!” she called out to him and he smiled at her before moving of the steps to where she stood.

“G’mornin’ Captain.” Jack replied warmly as he came to stand beside her. Jack faced her as she continued to look out to the sea still standing at the helm.

“G’day for sailin’ ain’t it?” she asked jovially and Jack scoffed softly as he shook his head.

“You’re always so optimistic.” He murmured softly and she turned her head to gaze at him with a bright smile.

“Y’gotta be optimistic. Keeps the cabin fever away.” She proclaimed knowingly as she leaned towards him and Jack grinned at her.

“There’s always other ways to keep cabin fever at bay.” Jack mused softly as he gazed at her pointedly. He knew he was being bold with his Captain but they had been dancing around this unspoken thing between the two of them ever since he joined the crew. A seductive grin spread across her face and she leaned further towards him.

“And what would you know about these other ways Jack?” she asked softly as her eyes squinted in delight at him. Jack leaned closer to her and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip.

“I may know a thing or two.” He advised softly as he leaned down to press his lips against hers. But just as he was to make contact someone called out his name loudly and close by.

“Jack!” came the loud shout of his name waking Jack from his dream. “Whiskey! Wake up! Good lord man!” shouted Tequila as he grinned over at Jack from his spot in his own bed. Jack groaned softly and dragged his hand down his face before turning his head across his pillow to stare at Tequila. Tequila was sitting up in his bed with his back pressed to the headboard and his laptop in his lap.

“What Tequila?” Jack groaned out lowly and Tequila grinned wickedly over at him.

“Who’s the Captain?” Tequila asked teasingly and Jack felt his whole body stiffen.

“What?” Jack asked softly trying to play dumb as he tried to figure out what Teqila was talking about.

“You were moanin’ about a Captain in your sleep.” Tequila explained gleefully. “So who’s the captain?” he asked again and Jack groaned before turning back his head to stare at the ceiling. While outwardly Jack seemed annoyed internally he was panicking, had he really moaned while he was dreaming about Bunny in her pirate costume? Jack’s mind raced as he tried to process him moaning and dreaming about Bunny. Was he starting to have feelings for Bunny? He knew she was obviously attractive and he had noticed but in the short time that he had gotten to know her could he develop feelings for her?

“No one. Mind yer business.” Jack grumbled out as he lay there keeping composed and Tequila burst out into laughter.

“Aye aye captain!” Tequila called out between his laughter as Jack got up from his bed shaking his head before he headed to the shower.

“We’ll leave as soon as we finish gettin’ ready.” Jack said as he grabbed his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Sighing loudly he gazed at himself in the mirror before he shook his head. He was having intimate dreams of Bunny dressed in her pirate costume and Tequila had nearly caught him! Jack shook his head once more trying to dispel the image of Bunny in her costume tilting her head towards him and pursing her lips to receive his kiss. But as Jack slipped into the shower her image was at the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t seem to chase her away.

It was going to be a long day; thankfully it would be spent mostly traveling home. Jack was eager to get home and see Esme. This had been the first mission away from her after the death of Maria, and while he was glad to be back at work he missed his little girl more. He needed to get home so that he could see her and hold her again. He missed hearing her giggles and listening to the stories that she came up with.

As he stepped into the shower his thoughts wandered to what crazy antics Esme and Bunny had gotten up to while he was gone. He dragged his hand down his face, clearing it of the warm water and made a mental note to pick Bunny up a gift card for groceries and some flowers as thanks for watching Esme for him.

*-*-*-*

Jack stared at the illuminated clock on his dashboard while he sat at a red light. He and Tequila had taken just a little bit longer debriefing from the mission with Champ and he was eager to get home. Letting out a wide long yawn Jack covered his mouth with one hand and squinted his eyes closed. It was just a little after four thirty and he was so close to home that Jack could feel the stress leaving his body in waves. Pulling up to the back guard shack Jack smiled as he stopped to see Jeremy stepping out to greet him.

“Hey Jack. How was your trip?” Jeremy asked warmly as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door jam of the guard shack. Jack sat back in the driver’s seat and rested his arm on the window ledge of his truck.

“It was good. Felt a lil’ rusty gettin’ back into the world of work but it was overall good.” Jack responded easily as he nodded his head.

“That’s good. I’m glad it wasn’t too stressful for you.” Jeremy said truthfully and Jack nodded his head again and hummed softly. “So I just left the girls. They hosted a movie night and ice cream sandwiches. If you head over there now I’m sure Esme would love to make one for ya.” Jeremy advised him and Jack smiled softly at the way he called them ‘the girls’ and how fondly he spoke about them.

“Is that right? Sounds like you guys had a fun time while I was away.” Jack said happily and Jeremy nodded enthusiastically.

“I know those two did. They’re thick as thieves now so you better watch out!” Jeremy said animatedly. Jack grinned and shook his head thinking about how close Esme grew to Bunny with this week with her.

“I bet they’re two peas in a pod now.” Jack said knowingly and Jeremy burst out into laughter.

“Oh without a doubt.” Jeremy agreed as he nodded his head at him. Jack nodded as he chuckled softly. “Alright get outta here. Go get your girl.” Jeremy said as he stood straight from the door jam and grinned over at Jack. Jack waved and slowly drove into the community heading towards Bunny’s house.

*-*-*-*

Jack pulled into his driveway and got out of the truck, the sun was quickly setting and dusk had fallen over his neighborhood, he leaned back into the cab of the truck and swiped up the bouquet of white camellia and yellow roses that he had bought at the flower shop along with the thank you card and gift card for the local grocery store. Looking over towards Bunny’s house he could see the front room lights were all lit and he smiled as he spied shadows moving across the windows from room to room. Starting to walk over to her house Jack grinned when he saw the front door open and a loud shriek filled the air.

“Daddy!” cried Esme out in excitement as she made a mad dash towards him. Jack picked up his pace as he reached Bunny’s front gate and started up her walkway. He dropped down to one knee and opened his arms wide as Esme almost tackled him to the ground. “Oh Daddy, I missed you so much!” cried Esme happily as her little arms clung to him tightly.

Jack sighed softly as he nuzzled his face into her hair and took in a deep breath. Esme’s distinct scent filled his nose and he felt his whole body relax and melt against hers. This was home to him, having his little girl in his arms happy to see him once again.

“I missed you too, peanut.” Jack said softly into her hair as he held her close. “I missed you so much.” he reiterated to her. When he felt her pull away slowly he sat back and looked at her fully. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a high ponytail, her eyes sparkled with happiness and love as she gazed at him, and her smile was bright and wide. In the week they had been away from each other he could see little differences in her while she grew without him.

There was movement behind Esme and Jack focused his eyes to see Bunny standing in front of her front door with her arms crossed across her chest and a smile on her face as she watched the two of them reunite. Jack smiled softly at her and nodded his head in greeting and watched as her smile widened slightly.

“I love you lots like Jelly Tots.” Esme said tearily and Jack grinned fondly as his eyes turned back to Esme and he pulled her further into his embrace.

“Love you lots like Jelly Tots.” Jack said softly into her hair as he squeezed her with his arms rocking her back and forth.

“Come inside! I have something for you!” Esme suddenly cried out happily and pulled away quickly from Jack and raced up the walkway to Bunny and her front door. Jack laughed softly as he watched Esme disappear into the house before he stood up to his full height. He looked up at Bunny who was still standing there at her door watching him kindly with a smile on her face.

“How was your trip?” she asked considerately as he made his way to her.

“It was good. A little weird gettin’ back into the swing of things but not too many hang ups. Thanks for asking sweetheart.” he said truthfully and Bunny nodded her head. Jack was still uncertain about using the pet name with her but he could see a slight blush creeping up her neck from his words and he knew he would be using the pet name more and more now. She went to turn and walk into the house when Jack stopped her. “Wait Bunny, these are for you.” he said to stop her and held out the bouquet and card that were in his hands. Her eyes widened and lit up with a soft sparkle before a soft blush graced her cheeks.

“Thank you! Oh that’s really very sweet of you. You didn’t have to though.” She thanked him happily as she accepted the flowers and held them close to her nose and took in a deep breath. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” she thanked him again and Jack felt his face flush proudly at her reaction. He didn’t know that he had been worried about her reaction to the flowers he bought, but found he was pleasantly surprised and happy with her joy over them.

“You’re welcome. It’s just a small thank you for watchin’ over Es for me this week.” he said honestly and smiled warmly at her as he stepped onto the top step of her little porch and looked down at her while she looked up at him grinning widely.

His breath is stolen from him as he gazes down at Bunny in the setting sunlight. Her hair is pulled back from her face and her eyes are sparkling brightly up at him. A soft sweet smile is settled on her lips and the bouquet of flowers seems to make her face look that much softer and sweeter. The moment is quiet between the two and Jack takes it in reverently.

“Dad! Come on!” Esme calls out loudly from inside and Bunny is chuckling softly as she steps to the side to let Jack into the house. The moment is broken but the warmth still remains between the two of them as they walk into the house together.

Bunny walks around Jack to the kitchen and begins gathering a vase to fill up for the flowers. Jack moves further into the kitchen and sees the dining table is littered with construction paper, glitter pens, tape, glue and other craft items. Esme is standing proudly next to the table holding up a large poster board that has the words ‘Welcome home Daddy’ in glittery colors.

Jack moves over to Esme and takes the poster board from her. His eyes move across the board to see all the pictures that Esme had attached to it, most likely with Bunny’s help. He can see a picture of Esme posing with Butter in her arms, Esme and Bunny laying out together in a field, Esme walking Butter down a long sidewalk with trees surrounding them, Esme doing yoga at the park, and a few silly pictures of Bunny and Esme together making silly faces. And then Jack spotted a picture of Esme and Bunny dressed up in their pirate costumes. Jack felt his heart rate skyrocket as his eyes danced across the picture of Bunny dressed as a pirate. The dream that he had early this morning quickly came back to mind and Jack cleared his throat softly before he turned to look at Esme. She stood nearby waiting anxiously for his critique and Jack smiled brightly at her.

“It’s beautiful sweetie!” Jack said truthfully and smiled warmly at her. She beamed proudly up at him before doing a little dance around him making him laugh.

“She was very worried that you wouldn’t like it. But I kept telling her she’s got a creative eye and nothing to worry about.” Bunny said warmly as she leaned against the kitchen island watching Esme with a warm smile on her face.

“She’s super creative, always coming up with these crazy stories and plays that she acts out for me.” Jack said knowingly as he nodded his head at Esme who was still dancing around. “Alright sweetie let’s get you back home now ok? Do you have everything packed and ready to go?” Jack called out to Esme to catch her attention.

Out of the corner of his eyes Jack watched Bunny nod her head and Esme stopped dancing around to pout and stare at him disappointedly. Bunny had moved out of the kitchen and disappeared upstairs while Esme moved closer to Jack in a conspiratorial manner.

“But Daddy Bunny made dinner. We can’t leave yet.” Esme whispered to him urgently.

“No peanut, we gotta get home. I want to wind down and just hang out with you.” Jack disagreed with Esme and watched as her lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout.

“But Daddy!” Esme cried distraught.

“Hey Es, it’s no big deal remember I made a separate tray?” Bunny asked kindly as she walked back into the kitchen.

“Yeah but I want to have dinner with you one last time.” Esme protested before stomping her foot into the floor.

“Esme I said we’re going home. That’s the end of it.” Jack stated firmly and frowned at Esme. Esme crossed her arms over her chest and pouted some more before Bunny cleared her throat.

“Hey Es why don’t you say bye to Butter before getting your bags.” Bunny suggested and Esme whipped her head around to look at Butter who was laying in his bed watching the whole situation going on. Jack watched as Esme flounced over to Butter and began saying goodbye to him and giving him hugs which the dog loved and curled up in her arms easily. A soft hand fell on Jack’s forearm and he looked over to see Bunny standing close to him. She was smiling a little uncertainly at him and Jack smiled softly at her.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to but in like that.” Bunny said softly and gestured for Jack to follow her over to the fridge.

“No, no it’s alright. She needed a distraction otherwise it’d be a nuclear bomb going off.” Jack admitted softly as his eyes strayed over to Esme still cuddling and talking to Butter.

“Okay, well I did make a separate lasagna with garlic bread for you and Es to take home. Figured it’d save you some hassle with dinner time for the week at least.” Bunny explained as she opened the fridge and pulled out a silver tray and tinfoil wrapped garlic bread.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to do that. But I appreciate it.” Jack said kindly as he took the food from her and set it on the kitchen island he watched as her eyes seemed to sparkle as she looked down at the ground in shyness. “I wanna tell ya thank you so much for watching Es for me. You’re a lifesaver and I wouldn’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t step up and offer to help me.” Jack said earnestly as he stared down into Bunny’s eyes. He watched as her eyes widened slightly and her breathing seemed to pick up before she subtly shook her head and grinned up at him.

“No worries Jack, she was really great and I loved watching her for you. You don’t have to thank me it was a lot of fun. And what did I tell you about thanking me so much. It really was nothing to watch her.” Bunny said quickly and Jack watched amused as her hands began to grip each other and twist around together. His eyes dragged up from her fidgeting hands to see that her eyes were slightly widened and she was staring at him with a hopeful look on her face. “I actually wanted to let you know that if you ever need someone to watch her again I’d be more than happy to do it.” Bunny said a little uncertainly and Jack grinned warmly at the woman before him.

“She charm you that easily sweetheart?” Jack asked amused as he gently teased Bunny. Her eyes snapped up to his and squinted slightly before they relaxed and a bright pretty smile graced her face. She shrugged lazily and her smile grew into a grin for him.

“Must run in the family.” Bunny said softly before she winked at him. Jack stood there a moment simply dazed as he took in the confident Bunny as she teased him. And for a minute Jack felt butterflies flutter in his stomach as he felt a hot flush start to creep over his face. Bunny chuckled softly and shook her head. “Sorry, I don't know what came over me there. But you can’t blame me, you and Es have that charming gene.”

“Huh, yeah I guess she gets it from her Daddy.” Jack agreed and watched amused as Bunny’s eyes widened slightly and she gasped softly.

“Ye-yeah I guess so.” She replied, nodding her head. Jack smirked softly when he watched her turn her head to look over at Esme and Butter, there was a definite blush crawling up the back of Bunny’s neck. “Alright Es I want a goodbye hug before you leave.” Bunny called out as she turned completely to Esme.

Jack watched as Esme stood up from hugging Butter and made a mad dash to Bunny who had her arms held out widely to catch his little girl. As Esme collided with Bunny their arms wrapped tightly around each other and Bunny rocked the little girl from side to side as she crouched down on the floor at Esme’s level.

“I’m gonna miss you Bunny.” Esme cried softly and Bunny chuckled softly at the little girl.

“Oh I’m gonna miss you too but I’m just down the block from ya so I’m not that far.” Bunny reassured her kindly and Jack nodded along to Bunny’s words. “You can always come visit me as long as your Dad says it’s okay.” Bunny told her as she leaned back and held Esme by her shoulders. “I promise I’ll always be here for you.”

“Okay.” Esme said dejectedly and Bunny pulled her back into her arms hugging her tightly.

“Don’t worry we’ll still see each other.” Bunny said softly before pulling away and standing up. “Alright c’mon grab your poster for your Dad. You can hang it in your house once you get there.”

“Oh! Yeah! I know just the perfect place.” Esme said excitedly as she bounced away and grabbed the poster board. Bunny grinned as she walked back over to Jack.

“You look surprised.” Bunny said with uncertainty and Jack shook his head softly. He was surprised by how easily Bunny reassured Esme and was able to keep her calm when normally she’d have a tantrum meltdown if it was just her and Jack.

“You’re really good at that.” Jack said, still slightly shocked.

“At what?” Bunny asked curiously as she tilted her head to the side.

“Parenting. How come you don’t have any kids?” Jack explained and asked all within the same breath. Bunny flushed brightly and Jack suddenly felt like an ass for asking. He watched as she waved her hand in the air dismissively and smiled kindly at him.

“Oh I grew up with a lot of foster kids coming and going in our house while growing up. I was normally the ‘mom’ for them all when my mom was working so much. It just kinda comes easy to me.” Bunny said, shrugging her shoulders. “And to answer your other question, I guess I haven't found the right guy to help me with that.” She said candidly and Jack had a feeling that there was more to it than what she was willing to divulge. But Jack didn’t press even though he wanted to badly, he knew all about keeping things close to the chest and he didn’t want to upset Bunny more by prying into something she wasn’t willing to talk about.

“That’s pretty cool that you were able to be there for the foster kids in your life. Did your parents ever adopt any?” Jack asked as he picked up the tray of lasagna and garlic bread before walking over to Esme’s bags. Bunny easily helped sling Esme’s duffel bag on his shoulder for him and held Esme’s backpack out for the little girl to slip her arms into.

“Oh yeah, my parents adopted my younger sister and younger brother.” Bunny informed him as she nodded her head with a smile on her face.

“Oh that’s really generous of your parents.” Jack said as they all began walking towards the front door.

“Yeah they’re good people and know how to donate their time to great causes.” Bunny said proudly as she opened and held the front door open for Jack and Esme.

“So that’s where you get it huh?” he asked, smiling over at her. Bunny stared at him shocked for a moment and then grinned widely. Jack felt himself softening as he watched Bunny grin at his praise of her. There was just something about this woman, who offered to watch his little girl for him on a moment’s notice, that was just drawing him in.

“I guess so.” Bunny said softly, still grinning and pretty much glowing at his praise. “Well you two have a good night. If you need anything let me know, I’m always around.” Bunny said as Esme and Jack stepped out of her house and onto the porch.

“Thanks Bunny, I appreciate it.” Jack said fondly and Bunny nodded her head at him as she smiled warmly.

“Bye Bunny! See you later!” called Esme as she bounced down the steps and started walking down the sidewalk. Jack chuckled softly and quickly followed his daughter down the front sidewalk.

*-*-*-*

“So you had a lot of fun with Bunny while I was away?” Jack asked curiously as he cut up a piece of lasagna and dished it onto a plate for Esme. Esme was busy standing at the kitchen island arranging the pieces of garlic bread on a separate plate that they had heated up along with the lasagna.

“Yeah. Bunny’s really cool Dad. She was a really good babysitter. We had nail polish parties, spa nights, and movie nights. We also did a lot of crafts together and she helped me with her hot glue gun so I could make a treasure chest for our pirate ship. Oh oh! She made a pirate ship out of cardboard boxes and we had a pirate play!” Esme began rattling off quickly and excitedly.

“That’s right I forgot she made you a pirate ship that one day.” Jack said awestruck as he stood there holding Esme’s plate. He was still blown away that Bunny went above and beyond to make sure Esme didn’t feel too bad about the situation with the bully at school.

“Yeah it was really cool. She knew I was feeling crappy because I was missing you and because the girls are still bullying me at school so she made a pirate ship and we played pirates one day after school.” Esme explained happily.

“The girls are still bullying you?” Jack asked softly as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Not really bullying me anymore since I told the teacher but the other kids aren’t nice to me since they heard I told on the bully.” Esme said with a shrug of her shoulders. Jack looked at Esme concerned and saw the dejected look on her face and slump of her shoulders.

“Hey then those kids aren’t worth yer time. Ya hear me? If they can’t be nice after you stopped someone bullying you then they ain’t yer friends.” He said firmly and passionately as Esme nodded her head at him. He knew his accent was starting to come out more and more as he talked to Esme all because of the emotions he was feeling about Esme being mistreated at school. Taking a deep breath Jack reigned in his emotions and looked at Esme earnestly. “Really Es, they’re not nice kids so don’t bother with them.” He said more under control of his emotions. He was thankful that his accent pretty much disappeared from his voice once he was calm and collected, he knew if he let his emotions get away and anyone heard his true southern accent it would mean his move with Es was all for naught.

“That’s what Bunny said too.” Esme said, nodding her head. Jack nodded his head as he placed the plate of lasagna in front of Esme. “She said that I’ve got you, her and Nadia who care about me and will always look out for me.”

“Bunny’s right. I will always be there for you. No matter what. I promise.” Jack vowed solemnly to Esme and she smiled happily up at him making him ease up and smile back at her.

“Love you lots like jelly tots.” Esme said softly and Jack felt his heart melt in the middle of his chest. He felt his whole body relax where he stood and he grinned widely at her.

“Love you lots like jelly tots.” Jack replied softly to her. “Now let’s eat, I’m starving and this smells delicious.” Jack said as he turned around and plated up his own piece of lasagna. He was so grateful that Bunny had been there for Esme this past week. He knew he wouldn’t ever be able to repay her for everything that she had done for his little girl.

*-*-*-*

The next morning as Jack is ushering Esme out the front door of the house he spots Bunny and Mr. Quinten talking together in front of his open garage. Bunny’s shaking her head as the older man rests his hands on his hips and talks to her. By the looks of it Mr. Quinten is trying to tell Bunny something and Bunny’s disagreeing with him.

“Oh there’s Mr. Quinten and Bunny!” Esme said happily as she bounced down the front steps of the house. “Good morning Mr. Quinten! Good morning Bunny!” Esme called out happily as she waved eagerly. Jack watched as Bunny and Mr. Quinten turned to Esme’s call and the two of them smiled brightly at her and waved back eagerly before calling out a good morning to her.

“You know Mr. Quinten?” Jack asked curiously as he and Esme began walking down the sidewalk. Jack was still watching Bunny and Mr. Quinten interact animatedly as Bunny rummaged through his garage for something.

“Not really like Bunny or Jeremy but he came with us to the community day. Bunny helps him out because he’s old and needs help. He always teases her and tells her he doesn’t need help but Bunny says he’s just stubborn and actually needs her help.” Esme explained as she continued down the sidewalk with Jack.

“Doesn’t he have family to help him out? Why does Bunny help him?” he asked curiously not thinking Esme would know the answer.

“Bunny said he’s got a son but he doesn’t come visit Mr. Quinten that often. She said that Mr. Quinten is lonely sometimes and he might sound mean when he’s teasing her but he cares about her and looks out for her in his own ways.” Esme said as she began to skip down the sidewalk towards the bus stop.

Jack smiled softly at his little girl as she skipped alongside him. She was such a perceptive child that it was sometimes amazing how much she picked up on. When they came to the bus stop Jack stood to the side and watched as Esme waved at a little boy who was also waiting with his Mom for the bus. Jack was happy that while Esme was having some problems with the kids in school there were still others who were willing to be friendly to her.

It didn’t take long for the bus to arrive and Jack wished Esme a good day before watching her climb the steps of the bus and find a seat in the middle of the bus. She waved at him from her window and grinned happily as he waved back at her.

Walking back down the sidewalk Jack spotted Bunny standing in the front yard of Mr. Quinten’s house with his lawnmower trying to get it started. Jack slowed his steps as he neared the fence of Mr. Quinten’s house so he could watch Bunny quietly.

Today she was dressed in a pair of well-worn light denim coveralls that had the hems turned upwards, a light red flannel shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to her elbows with a pair of gray sneakers on her feet. Jack’s eyes trailed over her body as she bent over the lawn mower and grabbed the pull cord for the engine of the mower. He watched as the denim pull tight across her ass showing him what she was hiding underneath her clothes and Jack felt his body grow hot.

When she stood to her full height he caught a glimpse of her flannel shirt that had the first three or four buttons undone. Jack could see a plain white tank top underneath the flannel shirt before the top part of the coveralls impeded his view. Jack stood there at the fence watching as Bunny yanked the pull cord back a few times to no avail. He knew that Bunny was an attractive woman but the clothes she wore and the glimpses of her body that she was unintentionally giving him was starting to drive Jack crazy.

“You need help starting that thing?” Jack called out to her and watched as she jumped at his voice. “Sorry didn’t mean to scare ya!” said grinning at her. Bunny chuckled softly and shook her head at him.

“No worries, I wasn’t paying attention. Focused on getting this piece of junk to start.” Bunny explained.

“It’s not a piece of junk!” shouted Mr. Quinten from his porch. Jack turned his head and saw Mr. Quinten sitting on his porch swing with a tall glass of iced tea.

“Good Morning Mr. Quinten!” Jack called and waved at the older man who waved back.

“It is a piece of junk! It’s older than you are!” Bunny cried out exasperatedly to the older man and Jack had to bite his tongue at the sass she was giving him. “Stupid old coot won’t listen to me and just buy a newer model.” She mumbled as she turned her head back to the mower.

“Here let me try. That way if I get it working you can just mow his yard and be done with it.” Jack offered his help and Bunny sighed as she looked over at him.

“Alright you give it a try then.” She said gesturing to the mower and taking a step back to give him room. Jack opened the front gate and stepped up to the mower smiling at Bunny.

“You gotta be delicate with the older ones. They get crotchety sometimes.” Jack said amused and Bunny huffed out a breath.

“Oh I know that all too well.” She grumbled and Jack laughed happily as he gripped the pull cord. Bunny stood just far enough away for him to have enough room to maneuver the cord and Jack caught a whiff of her scent, a mix between coconut, lime and some sort of flower that he couldn’t place. It was an alluring mixture that seemed to work and Jack took in a deep breath inhaling the addictive scent.

Jack pulled back on the cord and let it release back to its natural position listening to the engine turn over. He readjusted his grip on the handle and yanked back hard on the cord. Bunny cheered happily next to him when the engine caught and powered on.

“Thanks Jack!” she cheered gratefully as he moved to the side and she took over the lawn mower. “Oh hey before you go I have the pamphlets for the tai chi classes that my friend knew about. If you want later I can bring them over for ya.” She said and Jack nodded his head easily.

“Yeah when you have time, no rush.” He reassured her easily. Jack watched as her eyes shifted slightly and her feet began to shift back and forth while her hands gripped and readjusted on the handle of the mower. After seeing this behavior before last night he realized that Bunny was uncertain about something and he smiled warmly at her. “What?” he asked soothingly and she looked up at him surprised for a minute.

“How do you know something’s up?” she asked curiously.

“You shift on your feet and your hands can’t stay still when you’re unsure of something.” Jack answered truthfully. Bunny stared up at him surprised for a moment before letting out a chuckle.

“Of course you’d pick up on that.” She mumbled softly and Jack almost didn’t hear it over the mower engine. “Anyway I wanted to ask you if it’d be alright for me to still take Esme to the dog yoga class on Saturday mornings. If not, it's ok. I just figured that she loved it and she was really good at it. It'd be great to keep her in it until she gets bored.” Bunny began to ramble and Jack grinned at her before placing a hand over hers that gripped the mower handle.

“Easy Bunny, easy.” He said softly and she took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out to calm herself. “I think that’d be really great if you still wanted to take her to the dog yoga class. She’d be able to have some time with you on the weekend and still do the class.” Jack reassured her easily. Bunny’s face seemed to light up from the inside and shine outward with how happy she instantly became.

“Really? Oh that’d be great Jack!” she said happily and relieved all at once. Jack nodded along to her happiness before gripping her hand a little tighter.

“Oi! Are you gonna mow the yard or just flirt with the new neighbor!?” called out Mr. Quinten and Jack grinned as Bunny’s eyes widened and a blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry.” She mumbled softly and Jack chuckled softly, shaking his head. He looked down at her grinning.

“I’m not. You look cute today. I'd happily stand here flirting with you all day.” Jack teased her gently and watched as Bunny’s eyes sparkled softly before she burst out laughing.

“Get to work Jack. I’ll drop off the pamphlets later.” She said with a roll of her eyes and a smirk on her lips. Jack grinned and stepped back from her with a salute.

“Yes ma’am.” She said and she shook her head before she began pushing the mower across the yard.

“Finally you start mowing! Stop making goo goo eyes at him and get to work!” Mr. Quinten called out loudly and Bunny shook her head at him as she continued to push the mower across the grass. Jack laughed and walked out of Mr. Quinten’s yard with a wave to the older man who waved back with a wicked grin.

Jack knew that Bunny thought he was just teasing her about wanting to stay and flirt with her all day but Jack was starting to find out that he wouldn’t mind flirting with Bunny all day. As Jack walked across the street to his house he was shocked to realize that flirting with Bunny was something he wouldn’t mind doing. Especially if the flirting generated that cute blush on her cheeks each time or the sparkle in her eyes.

Just as Jack was stepping up onto the curb in front of his house a loud giggle pierced the air and he heard someone calling his name. Turning his head to the side he spotted Cynthia and Diane walking up to him and Cynthia was giving him one of those wiggly finger waves. Jack sighed softly as he stopped and waited for the two of them to finally reach him.

Ever since meeting Cynthia there was just this dread that filled Jack whenever he spotted her and she came over to talk to him. Her open flirting with him while she was still married turned him completely off from her. Marriage wasn’t something that he took for granted and he held his marriage vows very high in his opinion. So the fact that Cynthia was forsaking hers and flirting with him at any chance that she got was not only upsetting to him but it painted Cynthia in an unflattering light.

“Good morning Jack! How are you today?” Cynthia asked as she stopped so close to him that his arm almost brushed against hers. Jack gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded his head at her before smiling softly at Diane.

“Good morning ladies. I’m doing alright how are you?” he greeted them politely. Suddenly Cynthia trailed her long manicured nails up and down his bicep over his button up shirt, her nails dragged harshly up and down his arm and Jack knew that it was supposed to be tantalizing but to him it just made his stomach turn and made him feel sick.

“Oh we’re doing just fine. I see you returned safely from your work trip. Did you have a good week away from Emmie?” Cynthia asked in her high grating voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Jack huffed softly at the woman who was now stepping closer to him and still dragging her nails up and down his arm, she couldn’t even get Esme’s name correctly.

“You mean Esme?” Jack asked unimpressed as he stared at her with a hard glint in his eyes.

“Oh my mistake! Is that her name? I’m so sorry.” Cynthia said sounding over the top sugary sweet that Jack sucked his teeth, almost feeling the cavity start to form. “Ya know I’d love to take the two of you out to a steakhouse for dinner one night. Get to know you two better. What do ya say?” Cynthia simpered as she stepped even closer to him and pressed his arm down the middle of her body. Jack stepped back as soon as he felt her breasts on either side of his arm with a disgusted twist to his face.

“Actually Es and I are busy. I just got back from a work trip and would like to just spend time with her by myself. Maybe another time.” He said in a tone that implied he didn’t want to ever have dinner with her.

“Oh! Wonderful I’ll get with you to let you know when my schedule is free.” Cynthia said eagerly as she nodded her head at him quickly. She took another step closer to him and Jack stepped back while looking at his wrist watch.

“Look at the time I’ve gotta get to work or I’m gonna be late. You ladies have a nice day!” Jack said quickly as he waved at them and retreated to his yard and quickly walked to the front door escaping into his house. Leaning against the front door he blew out a breath and shook his head. That woman was tenacious if nothing else.

Pushing off from the door Jack’s mind couldn’t help but compare Bunny and Cynthia against each other. Cynthia was ruthless in her pursuit of what she wanted while Bunny was more laid back and easy going. Cynthia couldn’t remember Esme’s name properly while Bunny went above and beyond for his little girl and made her a pirate ship just to make her feel better after a crappy day at work. Cynthia openly flirted with him while still married and Bunny was just starting to come out of her shell and covertly flirted with him. Bunny was so generous with her time and effort while Cynthia hadn’t shown that to Jack yet if she would be generous with anything other than her money and pursuit of him. Jack walked over to his work briefcase and sighed softly there really was no comparison between the two women, Bunny was someone that Jack felt lucky to know and was so grateful that he was slowly starting to befriend her and possibly more.

Picking up his briefcase he shook his head one more time and smiled softly as his mind turned to thoughts of Bunny in her cute coveralls that she was wearing earlier this morning. Chuckling softly as he stepped out of his house he thought of the sass that she gave to Mr. Quinten and the way the two of them bickered back and forth with each other. Bunny was someone that he would enjoy getting to know.

[xxdearlybeloved]

The Kingmaker

Summary: Earl Ragnar takes a journey to greatness and may have met his destruction. This is not cannon, but that’s kind of the point of fanfic soooo yeah. 

A/N: Thank you to @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for the fic header!!!!!! It is better than I could have even imagined and also thanks to @fjor-ok-skadi​ for reawakening my Ragnar thirst enough to finish this first part.

“Why are we doing this, Ragnar?” Floki asks in his casual, unassuming tone. Ragnar casts him a sideways glance before looking again to the horizon. Floki has been with Ragnar since the beginning but has never easily deciphered Ragnar’s vision.

“Because we need to,” is all Ragnar replied, in his frustratingly simple way.

“Okay,” Floki said, rising to head to the back of the boat. It was only a small team. One boat sailing to see the Viking King. No one knew why they were going, but with their numbers it was safe to assume they were not planning to attack.

The journey was short. They had left as the sun set and arrived as it rose, the morning light still not bright enough to make the kingdom seem welcoming for the travelers. As they drew closer, they saw men, the warriors of the King’s guard, standing at the dock waiting for them to approach.

Ragnar told his men to be calm, but ready. The king did not become king by letting lone ships board his dock without question.

Ragnar’s men rowed towards the dock with their Earl at the helm, his arms in a gesture of peace with an almost smile on his face.

Despite the gesture, the men at the dock stood ready, eyeing the travelers steadily. The boat floated towards the dock, but one man approached the edge, his axe tight in his grip. He raised his other hand to halt the approach, and the men did.

“What brings you here?” the men asked. No one spoke, waiting for Ragnar to break the silence.

Before the man could ask again, Ragnar finally answered him. “I request an audience with the king,” Ragnar said, standing as the boat knocked against the dock.

“And who are you?”

Another guard approached. “This man is Earl Ragnar”

The first guard looked to the other in annoyance, turning his frustration back to Ragnar. “You should have sent word”

“I thought my message would be better delivered in person,” Ragnar replied easily. The first guard looked to the second, who nodded. They backed away and allowed the boat to dock, surrounding the men as they disembarked.

The men were brought to the hall and waited until the first meal would begin. They were tired and thirsty, but Ragnar didn’t ask for a single cup of water, so his men didn’t either.

They had watched as servants went through the back, bringing water and fruits to the king. They returned either with smiles on their faces or with terror in their eyes.

At first, he thought she was a hallucination. One of the angels Aethelstan had mentioned to him before. She stood in the shadows, her eyes watching him. She wore a white sheet tied around her waist and a band around her chest, but the shadows hid her body.

He still could not tell if she was real, so he looked over his shoulder at Floki to find him staring in that direction, too. The same expression of wonder in his generally playful eyes.

“Do you see her?” Ragnar whispered, afraid that the sound would scare her away.

“She is gone” he replied. Ragnar turned to find the truth in his words.

Before he could ask any more details, they heard the sound of boisterous laughter. The King came, his voice booming as he greeted his guests.

The men all rose as Ragnar did, and the King approached him first. “Earl Ragnar, I’ve heard so much about you”

“As I have you, lord king”

“You and your men must be tired from your journey. I’m sure it must be important, to have you come all this way, hmm?” He looked at Ragnar expectantly. Floki could not tell if there was suspicion in his voice, but he did not trust this king. “Here, let us feast”

He ordered the servants to bring them food and water, and the men ate gratefully. Ragnar watched the King as he ate, but he also felt his glance drift towards the corner, wondering if he would see the angel again.

The king continued to talk loudly, as if his voice amplified his already massive presence. As the men finished, the king became quiet, his smile almost threatening as he looked at Ragnar. As the men noticed, the room grew quiet, the silence almost louder than the king’s laughter had been.

“What is it that brings you here?” he asked, the smile fading from his face.

Ragnar finished chewing slowly, taking his time yet again before providing his simple answer. “I need your help”

The king laughed, but this time it sounded mocking. “And how can I be of service?”

“I need your men”

“And what ever for?” He could not hide his surprise at this blatant request.

He leaned in more closely. A whisper that carried through the silence around him. “Paris”

The Viking King laughed at him. “And why would I send my men to be slaughtered?”

Ragnar sat back in his chair, his tone shifting as if he was talking to a petulant child. “How do you know?”

“I have my ways”

“I see,” Ragnar replied. “Well if you don’t give me your men, I’ll have to go to all of the earldoms to ask for theirs. When they ask if I have your support, I will have to tell them their king is a coward” He waited to make sure that the man had processed these words. “He has no heart for adventure”

The king’s face, already red from the drinks that had accompanied their meal, grew purple. “How dare you threaten me in my own hall,” he yelled, rising so fast that his chair flew behind him. His guards stood as well, pointing their weapons at Ragnar and his men.

They looked around uneasily, not sure of Ragnar’s plan. He looked calmly at the king, as if he were still sitting in front of him. “It is not a threat, lord king”

The king had regained his composure, and paced to his throne, before turning back towards Ragnar. “We cannot go to Paris. It will end in destruction; it has been seen”

And now Ragnar rose, going to meet the king. “But who did you ask?” Ragnar was familiar with the power of a seer, and he wanted to know what the gods had revealed. “What did he say?”

The king eyed him warily, but felt safe with his guards. Besides, he had nothing to lose. “She said, ‘A great king will fall in Paris and the people would long for his return'”

“Did she mean you, lord king?”

His eyes flared and he turned to face Ragnar as he roared, “You are done insulting me at my own table, in my own hall”

At these words, his guards took Ragnar’s men, his own sword he drew and placed at Ragnar’s neck. He had every right to draw it across his throat, but he thought of the wars after the story was told. The king, in his great hall, murdered an earl who came on a single boat because the mighty king felt threatened. A pitiful story indeed.

“Take them away”

Some of the men resisted, but most followed Ragnar’s lead, letting the men lead them towards their prisoner hold.

------

Ragnar felt her before he opened his eyes. Her presence was like a mist, making his arm hairs stand on edge. She had been humming a haunting melody as she lay in front of Ragnar, tracing patterns in the dirt. He watched her, taking her in, her hair in long twists, the tattoos on her arms. The white she was wearing seemed to glow against her skin from the moonlight. He was afraid to blink.

He didn’t move as she continued to draw, still afraid she would run like a startled rabbit. She finished her song, then looked at him, her smile more beautiful than he could have imagined.

Her voice was just as melodic as her humming had been. “I will get you to Paris,” she told him, resting her head gracefully on her arms.

He couldn’t help but smile back at her. All of it was surreal. He wasn’t even sure if he was awake. “You can’t even get me out of this prison,” he said, turning on his back. She rose on her arms again leaning closer to him, lightly tracing the same patterns in his arm.

“I can,” she said simply. She rose and went to the door, casting a soft smile at Ragnar as she opened it. He stood clumsily to follow her to find the guards outside the gates fast asleep. At least he believed they were asleep. He did not know if they were breathing.  “Are you coming?”

He looked around to his other men, finding some of them awake as well, watching Ragnar and the angel. She held her finger to her lips and beckoned, a smile on her face. He was still unsure if this was a dream, and looked to the guards again to see if he could see signs of life or death. Ragnar looked to Floki, who nodded, and the men followed the woman into the night.

He barely heard her steps as she danced ahead of them towards the forest. Ragnar did not know if this was a trap, but he reasoned that the king had no reason to set such elaborate plots.

As the men hunkered in the forest, he looked towards the docks to see if they remained guarded. Their weapons were on the boat, and it would be difficult to get to it without them.

He moved to signal two of his men to follow him, but her hand stopped his. Her touch was cool, sending shocks up his arms. His eyes met hers and for the first time he saw fear.

“We must go by land,” she said sternly.

“But that will take days,” one of Ragnar’s men said. “Send me, lord, we can take them and be on our way before they know we are gone”

He believed him, but he saw the look in the woman’s eyes. He didn’t know if he could trust them, but she had gotten him this far.

“We walk,” he said, his eyes on her. So they did.

They hiked as far as she could before her legs gave out. They decided to camp there, not wanting to set a fire from fear the king would spot them. They would go to the nearest earldom and ask for boats, hoping that they arrived before the king’s messenger.

The men watched the woman sleep, the peaceful look making her seem even more ethereal. It wasn’t long before the men who weren’t on watch joined her.

Ragnar again felt pulled from his sleep by her presence. But she wasn’t there. He sat up, looking around until he saw the fire. He walked towards it, carefully stepping as he investigated who had disobeyed his orders.

He found her dancing around the fire, the sparks bursting in the air in time with her movements. The men who were supposed to be on watch were instead watching her as she seemed to cast the sparks into the air, sending them on their way to join the stars.

Her dance grew in intensity, and he found himself in a trance, moving closer until he stood in the edge of the firelight. The dance brought her to the ground where she stayed, breathing heavily. The trance faded and the men noticed Ragnar who still had his gaze fixed on her. The men stood, muttering apologies as they left to continue their watch, casting backwards glances.

He would deal with them later. For now, his focus was on the woman who lay lithely before him, her skin glowing in the firelight. She had disobeyed him and put them all in danger. He was preparing to tell her that when she spoke first.

“Come to me Ragnar, I need you,” she called.

He went to her without hesitation and joined her on the ground.

“You disobeyed my orders” he said to her, matter-of-factly.

“We have nothing to fear,” she replied in kind.

“How do you know?” he asked her with such intensity that he saw her laissez-faire attitude falter.

“What difference does it make?”

“How can I trust you?” She paused at this because she did not have an answer. So she gave him the best she could.

“You have to.”

“Have to?” Ragnar said softly, his rage boiling slowly. “You put a death sentence on my head, on the heads of my men, and you set a beacon for your beloved king to find you, and you tell me I have to trust you?”

She had sat up at this point, her knees drawn to her chest as she closed in on herself. Ragnar felt the strings of his heart pull but he cannot afford to be a fool.

He rose, so that he towered over her. “Tell me what you know”

She looked up at him, “Don’t you see, Earl Ragnar? I only know what the gods show me.”

“You are a seer?” She nodded. “But you are his seer?” She looked at him, and he saw the tears begin to form in her eyes. She looked away from him and into the fire which had begun to fade along with her spirit.

Ragnar lowered next to her. Her shoulders began to shake and he knew she was crying. He placed a hand on her shoulder and the other he used to wipe her tears. She still would not meet his eyes.

He found himself pulling her more closely, her usual coolness replaced by the warmth from the fire. He was drawn to her, but she was for the king. So he asked out loud the one question that echoed in his mind. “How can I trust you when you are his?”

The fire blazed behind her as she glared at him, her skin almost hot to the touch. “I have saved your life, Earl Ragnar. He wanted you dead.” She burned under his touch, but he did not let go. She looked away again. “The king is a terrible man. He will soon die.” She looked at Ragnar again. “The gods have plans for you, my lord”

Ragnar could not be sure she was telling the truth, but he saw in her eyes no trace of a lie. She saw in his all of the greatness the gods had foretold, and she knew the gods were right to make this Earl their king.

“I will get you to Paris,” she said softly, and as his lips met hers under the night’s fading stars, the fire flickered and died.

[tinabean37]

Distant Harbor

This story idea came out of a dream I had. Yes, I dreamed of Pirate Henry, and it was fantastic! Please be aware that this is my first AU story, my first olden time period story, as well as my first OFC story instead of a reader insert. That being said, feedback would be amazing!! Tell me if you liked it, hated it, want more of it...I’ll take it all.

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If you want me to start a tag list for this story and want to be on it, let me know.

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Summery: As the daughter of a merchant sailor, you convince him to let you accompany him on his current voyage. But when a Pirate Ship is spotted on the horizon, you realize the sea is a dangerous place.

Characters: AU Pirate!Henry x OFC Lucy

Word Count: 2,366

Warnings: Violence, cannon fire, talk of blood, character death, captivity, unwanted touching and kissing, abuse, if you find anything else I need to add here please let me know.

**I do not know or own Henry Cavill(even though I would love to!) The original female character, Lucy, was made up by me.**

***Feedback welcome and encouraged :)***

~~~~~~~

The gentle rocking back and forth of the sailing vessel helped lull you into a restful sleep at night, and also woke you from the same slumber. The glow of the rising sun reflected off the ocean, and onto your face. It was the third day into your journey, and the motion and close quarters were already becoming bothersome. Your father was a merchant trader and had reluctantly agreed to let you accompany him on this voyage as you requested. You always dreamed of adventure and new horizons. All you had gotten so far was stir-crazy and discouraging looks from among the crew. 

They reasoned that it was unlucky to have a woman aboard a ship as she would anger the sea. But they also apparently felt that certain hygiene practices were unlucky, so you couldn’t put stock in much of what they said. Your father, however, kept a very close eye on you, and usually relegated you to your cabin, to not rile the crew. You were never one for following rules, however, so you decided to dress quickly, and head onto the deck to take in the fresh sea air. You leaned against the deck rail, hands gripping it tightly, eyes scanning the horizon. You squinted your eyes against the sun. Was that a spot of white you just saw? You turned to see if anyone else had seen something when you were joined at the rail by your father. 

“Lucy, you know you should not be out here unaccompanied.” His voice sounded tired, but you were unsure if it was due to the nature of his work here, or the number of times he has had to remind you of this fact.

“Father, I know you worry for me, but I am no longer a babe clinging to the nursemaid. I cannot be locked in that cabin the whole journey. I want to experience what you do. I want to experience anything at all.” You looked at him with a steely expression. He softened as he cupped your cheek. 

“I know, my dear daughter. But after we lost your dear mother, you are all I have left. You cannot fault me for being an attentive father.” You knew he was right. When sickness took your mother seven years past, it nearly broke him. He gave up sailing for almost a year, to keep you close. To keep you safe. But the banks were only sympathetic for so long before he knew he had to return to the sea. So having you on this voyage with him was, you felt, his way of allowing you freedom, while still keeping you close. You gave your father a kind smile and embraced him close. 

“I understand father, and I promise, I will heed your instructions from here out.”  Giving you a nod of acceptance, he turned his gaze to the sea. You both stood in calm silence for a few moments, until you saw your father tense and grip the railing. He shouted to the passing crewman. 

“Hawkins, get me the spyglass. I think I see sails!” Once the metal tube was placed in his hands, he focused out on the horizon. “Sail, ho! There’s a ship starboard side, 2 leagues out. She’s flying a black flag. Pierce, get to the helm. Keep it at a distance. Don’t let it catch up!” Your father’s authoritative commands both impressed and terrified you. 

“Black sails? Father, pirates?” Without answering, he grabbed your arm and led you quickly to your cabin. Once you were safely inside, he commanded you as well. 

“Lucy, you must listen to me, this is very important. You must stay in your cabin. We are going to try to outrun the vessel, but we are heavily laden. I cannot guarantee the safety of this ship. I need to know you are safe. Do you understand?” Too terrified to speak, you let out a whimper and frantic nod. Your father gave you a quick smile before running back on deck. Terrified for him and the crew, you knelt where you stood and began to pray. 

You were soon startled out of your prayer by the sounds of frantic shouting on deck. You ran to the porthole and saw that the pirate ship was much closer than you thought possible, and getting closer. The order from the deck was to man the cannons and prepare for crossfire. You were in disbelief. This was supposed to be a routine supply voyage. How quickly it had come to this. You hurriedly crossed the cabin to get away from the windows. You sat on your bed, pulled your knees to your chest, and wrapped your arms around them. And that is how you were when the first cannonball hit the ship. 

~~~~~

The barrage lasted what felt like forever. The loud blasts of the cannons soon became shouts and the clashing of steel when your ship was boarded. You sobbed as you drew even further into yourself. You couldn’t tell who was winning, but you were too scared to see for yourself. And you promised your father you would stay in the cabin. Your heart was pounding when the sounds of fighting outside seemed to stop. Was your father's crew victorious? Is your father safe? What will happen next?

You got your answer when someone began banging on the door from the outside. Your father had locked it, thank god, but if whoever it was could not unlock it, then it was not your father. Panicked and thinking quickly, you hid in your wardrobe. A few more loud bangs sounded against the door before it burst open. You held your breath, terrified whoever just entered would hear you. From your hiding spot, you couldn’t see anything, but you heard them ransacking the room. They must not know you were there but just looking to pillage. You couldn’t help shaking knowing that they would eventually look in the wardrobe and discover you there. Almost as if you willed it by thinking it, the door was wrenched open, and you let out a small scream of surprise. 

“Oi, what do we ‘ave ‘ere, then?” The pirate grabbed you by the arm and pulled you to stand in the cabin. “Yer a pretty lass, ain’t ye? Methinks me treasure been found ‘ere, ay?” You desperately tried to get out of his rough grip, as he began to grope and grab at you. 

“Let me go! You cannot do this!” You made your voice sound as commanding as possible, but the pirate just laughed. Your heart clenched as fear grew in you. 

“Ye think so, princess? There is plenty I can do, don’t ye fret.” His hands kept grabbing through layers of fabric, and you kept swatting them away. Once he got frustrated, he grabbed your chin in his dirty hand and kissed you roughly. Throwing your head back to escape the kiss, you slapped him roughly across the face. “Oh I like em feisty, I do.” He spat and tried to kiss you again. You struggled against his rough hold on your face and kept tossing your head back and to the side to avoid his foul mouth. Angered by your defiance, he roughly grabbed both arms and slammed your back hard into the cabin wall. Pain shot down your spine as it collided with the hard surface. You were unable to stop his mouth’s assault this time. When you felt his tongue attempt to break through you bit down as hard as you could. He let out a scream mixed with pain and anger. His hand was lightning quick as it struck you hard in the cheek. Tears blocked your vision as blood pooled on your split lip. “Don’t make me get a muzzle on ye, bitch!” Just then, another pirate stormed in, took in the scene in front of him, and his eyes clouded with anger. 

“Smythe, ye know the Captain’s rules. All prisoners need be brought to him. What do ye think yer doin’?”

“Just having a bit o’ fun. No ‘arm in that, is there?”

“Ye can have yer fun when ye finish yer job. Now get the girl to the Captain, and shove off!” You had been too scared to speak during their exchange. You only managed a whimper when the man called Smythe grabbed your arm painfully and began to drag you onto the deck. More strangled sounds came out as you saw the carnage on deck. Your father's crew, the men you had been sailing with, all dead. The bottom of your dress dragged in the blood on the deck as he pulled you towards the gangplank. However, your body stopped still when you saw one particular face you recognized amongst the havoc. The lifeless face of your father. 

“FATHER! NO!” You wailed. You pulled with all your strength and managed to wrench free of your captive’s grasp. You ran to him and knelt at his side. Your hands fluttered over him, helpless, as you wept for him. You laid your head on his bloodied chest and sobbed. Too soon, you felt the pirate yank you to your feet. “Please, no! I cannot leave him. Let me go! Please…” you begged to deaf ears. He continued to drag you to the waiting pirate ship, all the while you were fighting to return to your father’s body. He didn’t utter a word to you. You didn’t expect sympathy, but you expected something. The rest of the way, every lifeless face had the visage of your father. 

Now on board the pirate ship, you were led to the cabin directly under the helm, the captain’s cabin. The room was empty, but you were tossed in any way. The pirate roughly sat you on a wooden chair in the corner of the room, and without care, tightly tied your hands behind your back. You thought of trying to fight your bonds, but you couldn’t find the strength. You had nothing left. You were alone. And now, you belonged to the captain. 

~~~~~

You were unsure how long you waited in that cabin, tied to the chair alone. Your thoughts were only of your father, his crew, and your horrible fate. Would the captain kill you? Enslave you? Molest you? As terrified as you were, your fight was gone. You decided to accept your fate, whatever that may be. A short time later, you startled as the silence was broken. The doorknob turned, and the loud boot steps of the captain rang in the cabin. 

You were terrified to look up and face him, so your gaze stayed trained on the ground. A few steps later, the boots came into view, and then stopped in front of you. The silence filled the room again, almost as if he was waiting on you. Shaking, you slowly raised your head and took in the man standing in front of you. He was a giant of a man. Tall and broad. His dark curls rested wild on his forehead, almost hiding his striking blue eyes. His mouth was set in a hard line as if he was unsure what to do with you. You weren’t sure why he wasn’t saying anything. Doing anything. He was just staring at you. 

“Please, sir. Please don’t hurt me. My father was on that ship. He’s dead now. I don’t want him lying there alone. Please.” You begged between sobs. He sighed deeply before speaking. 

“I am Captain Henry Cavill. You are a prisoner aboard my ship, The Wretched Blue. While you are a prisoner here, you will be in my care. But do not think it will be a comfort. You will fetch a large amount of coin for me, so I will see to your captivity. Do you understand?” His tone was very direct and full of business. When he looked you in the eye, he did not show emotion. Trembling with sobs at your fate, you lowered your eyes from his gaze and let out a defeated sigh. Taking that as the only acceptance he needed, he turned towards the pirate that appeared there and started giving him orders that you were unable to hear. 

Before long, he had returned with a cot and bedding, seeing as there was only sleeping furniture for one in the cabin. It was apparent that he had also ordered the pirate to return to your ship, and your cabin, because the next item he brought in was your trunk. The lock and hinges were broken on it, so it was clear it had been riffled through. The last item was secreted to the captain before you could discern what it was. But you paid it no mind. You were thoroughly defeated and wanted nothing more than to surrender to the blackness at the edge of your vision. The captain gave his crewman a satisfied nod and granted him leave. You were once again left alone with the intimidating man. 

“I am your captor, but I am also a fair man. I will not be cruel, but there will be rules to follow. And punishments if those rules are not obeyed. Do you understand?” Your head nodded in shallow agreement. “Well then, as I stated, I am not a cruel man, so I will leave you to grieve. Do I have your word you will not try to escape? Or do I need to bind you?” Again without words, you shook your head to assure him you would not try anything. “Fine. The accommodations are small, but I offer you the bed as your own. Cross me, and your stay will not be nearly as comfortable.” He turned to walk away but stopped just short of the door. He came back to you, reached into his vest pocket, and pulled out the item that was handed to him along with your trunk. Silently, he handed it to you and breezed out of the room. You stared at the item in your hands and fresh sobs grew in your chest. It was the small portrait you had of your mother and father. This brought everything into perspective. You were now very alone. 

[thevirtualcanvas]

Of touch and time

Mando x Reader [GN - for the time being]

Suitable for all. No TW.

It's been three weeks since Mando picked you up from your home world, scared and alone. How will things change going forward and just what is he doing with this small alien child?

The thrum of the engine had become a comfort, one of few in the weeks you'd spent aboard the Razor Crest. The other was the delightful sounds of the little green companion who'd found itself becoming your comfort and outlet as you dealt with the blows of grief from losing the last of your family. His, at least you thought it was a he, smiles and gurgles of  joy as he ambled around the deck after you and his adoptive father gave you a small glimmer of hope in a very uncertain time.

You had nothing to your name, bar the clothes on your back and the pulse rifle currently stored in the Mandalorian's personal armoury. Speaking of, he had been very – quiet. Not that he hadn't been before, but since rescuing you on Arbor there was an air of tension between you both, as though he couldn't quite decide what to do with you, and as such just left you to wander aimless and listless about the small, confines of his ship.

For three weeks you dragged your sorry self through the grief, incapable of making a decision for yourself. Left wondering which pitiful rock the Tin Man would leave you on. He never did, he simply parked the ship on an outer reach, left the child tucked away in the cubby and lingered on you with as though trying to say something, before leaving with a turn of his cloak and disappearing into the terrain. You mostly sat in the same spot, drowning in sallow thoughts and reliving those last moments, picking at your fingers, your borrowed tunic, anything to try and drag you away from that pained look on your Father's face as the Mandalorian coddled you onto his ship. Somewhere in the silence, the sound of a pressurised door would open, a guff of exertion and a small beige bundle would be at your feet, arms outstretched, begging to be picked up.

“C'mon then, little one. Let's see what we have let for you.”

You open the rations cooler, pulling out sticks of jerky for the little green alien to chew on enthusiastically as you rocked him against your hip. A little burp would indicate his fill and he would bury into your chest, snuggling into the smell of his dad's spare tunic. Soon, he would sleep, elongated ears twitching as he slept soundly and you would find a wall or a crate and lethargy would take over your body and you would sleep with the child bundled against you like he was the only thing keep you sane.

Boots clanking against the grate woke you. A rustle of metal and fabric. A tinny huff and the sight of Beskar roused you from your nap, the little one grumbled, pulled from his sleep against your breast.

“Welcome back.” You looked at him as you rose to your feet, shushing the child as the disturbance made him a little cranky. Something about the Mandalorian unnerved but also comforted you, you couldn't place it. There was an atmosphere, ironically. He a man of few and concise words; he seemed to have a lot to say, yet left them unsaid. Starting conversations with agitated huffs, heavy silence and direct instructions. And you, with one companion incapable of speaking common and the other unwilling, you lost the will to speak at all.

Mando nodded as he placed his rifle back in the armoury, and slung the pack from his back onto the nearest crate.  The child was awake completely now, chatting to his Dad from your arms as though the Mandalorian knew exactly what he was talking about.

“How has he been?” He asked, voice soft and laced with static through the vocoder. He reached for the little green alien, and took him from your arms, bundling him up against his own chest and giving him the once over as his bundle patted at the cool metal with animated hands.

You missed the warmth instantly. “Fine, he escaped within the first hour of your leave. He's eaten, I changed him and we've slept the rest of the time.”

A grunt of acknowledgement came from him as the visor tilted towards the pair of big watery eyes that demanded his attention. “And you?” He was looking at you now, you think, it was hard to tell but you had a sense of eyes on you. The tilt of the visor led you to believe he was concerned, as you attempted to decipher the armour clad man.

You grumbled to yourself, eyes hitting the deck. You weren't hungry, you never were anymore. “I'm fine.”

Mando moved the child onto one hip and reached into the rucksack; he pulled out a small box and handed it to you. “There was a Naboo baker in the bazaar.” As if that had explained everything. He waited for you to open the box, finding a bundle of bean buns, still warm to the touch. “You're not used to the rations, but you should eat something.”

The small action had shook you, here you were thinking the man was ready to jettison you out into the cold void of space and he'd thought of your grief enough to buy you a treat. You looked at box, decorated in blues and ribbons, and tried not to cry, an overwhelming sense of guilt and selfishness overcame you. The Mandalorian sidestepped you, ignoring the child's grabbing hands towards the baked goods. He made his way towards the cockpit, not caring about platitudes when he felt a tug on his cloak. He turned his helm to see you, hand balled tight into the coarse material, lips thinned and eyes cinched to keep the tears from betraying you. Your hand trembled, vying you to grab onto to some part of him, something that was human, calling out for some familiarity, and warmth.

“Thank you,” you managed, lip wobbling, knuckles white.

He waited, until you calmed, until you'd processed enough to let go of his cloak. “Eat,” he repeated with a soft rumble he saved for the child. “We set off into hyper-space in twenty. You'll need to be in your seat in fifteen.”

He disappeared up the rungs of the ladder, leaving you to your privacy and you ate all but two of the buns. Leaving one for the child, and one for him. A warm feeling flushed across your skin, not just from the tears but from this one small act of kindness and the hope it gave you.

-----

Two days later found you on a small planet a few hundred thousand miles away from Tattoine. Full of moisture farmers, scrap sellers, and the occasional Jawa scampering about the underbelly of the bazaar. The Mandalorian had dragged you out of the ship; well, he'd told you they were going out, threw a poncho in your direction and put the baby in a bandolier hidden by his cloak.

“Stay close,” he warned. There were no imps here, but a good variety of vagabonds, opportunists and slavers who would take one look at you and decide you were worth the credits to some warlord or senator. Both of which would use you for unspeakable purposes and the bounty hunter would much rather avoid that.

A man named Greef had sent him a tip about a scrap seller who'd come across some interesting pieces, swore they were Jedi, from Coruscant. But it was all strictly hush hush. The imps were fractured, but still strong, their ears and eyes still reached certain parts of the Galaxy beyond the reach of the New Republic. With one hand on his blaster and the other on the bandolier to keep the child quiet, Mando guided you through a back alley of sandstone buildings laced in scrap metal, tubes, rubber piping and electrical cabling from an era just settling into the dust. You were dubious to say the least, being the grandchild of a defected clone just about anything to do with the Jedi and the old Republic made your skin crawl. Your grandfather had shown you the faded scar at the base of his neck where the Jedi whom he'd served used the force to tear the chip from his skull. Saving both their lives long enough to escape Coruscant to go into hiding. Your grandmother would smack him across the back of the head playfully.

“You always embellish the story, my love. Don't be so dramatic. You make it sound like I was some naïve youngling bouldering through with force in tow. Ignore your grandfather, little one. The story changes every time he tells it.”

She would tease your cheeks, and potter off, watering her plants and reading her books, casting a loving look at the back of your grandfathers head each time she passed. He always looked so much older than her, despite the fact she was twice his age, their dynamic had always thrilled you.

“I don't like this,” you muttered pawing away at the happier time.

Mando agreed. “That's why I brought you. I need you to tell me if the artefacts are fakes.”

You both stood at heavy set door, settled in the shade as though the sun had forgotten it's existence. The child wriggled in his perch, something agitated him. Mando spoke in Mando'a, the words calmed you all, though he aimed it at the child. Once the little one was settled he rattled his fist against the door four times in bouts of two. A hollowing minute went by before the door peeked open. A beady eye looked at your party before opening up a few inches more, encouraging you over the threshold. A grizzled Toydarian greeted you, moss green and with fractured wings – it hobbled down a corridor leading you both with distaste.

The alien snorted, “This way, quickly.” They hurried on their short, stubby legs, leading you and the Mandalorian past a slew of doors, with maker-knows-what behind them. The sounds were overwhelming; a barrage of shouts in a myriad of tongues, bangs, sounds of blasters and screams seeped from under the gaps in the doors. You held your rifle in your hands, it would be useless, of course in such close contact, but it gave you a comfort and a blip of confidence.

You were led into a dome shaped room, a fire pit in the centre and pews decorated in plush linens and expensive hanging lights. Heavy plumes of incense hung thick in the air, designed to relax but it only served to set your nerves alight. In the centre sat another Toydarian, with a knowing smirk and swathed in jewels. They were no mere scrap merchants, of that you were certain.

“Mando,” you hissed, heart palpitating. Your hand tapped the back of his wrist, feeling a blossom of warmth through the back of his glove. For a moment you thought he would reciprocate, giving you the reassurance you so desperately needed, yet he stood fast. Helmet directed at their contact.

“Ah, Mandalorian. Good to see you, my friend. Please, come and take a seat.” The Toydarian leant back against the head of the pew, rings clinking against their spindly fingers, eyes watching from it's tilted head for your reaction.

Mando nodded, but made no movement forward. “Setu, it's been a long time.”

From your position behind your Tin Man you felt him relax at your touch, releasing some of the tension you both held. The situation was sketchy at best, but it wasn't the first nor last situation Mando would find himself in where danger was afoot.

The alien let out a croaked laugh and burst into a strained wet, cough. “Still don't trust me, eh, Mando? A man could be insulted.”

Mando let out a contemptuous sigh, “Good thing you're not a man, Setu.” He folded his arms above the child and eyed the alien down through his helm. “You said you had artefacts – so lets talk.”

-------

An exchange; a bounty for the Jedi artefacts, which you'd verified. A couple of scrolls and glass cube, a holocron. Your grandmother had one left over from when she abdicated the order. Why your Tin Man needed Jedi relics was beyond you, but it wasn't your place to ask. He led you back to the Razor Crest, handed you the baby and left with one instruction. Don't leave the ship. So, for two nights and days on a small planetoid with too many suns, you waited and you watched. One eye firmly on the child who had an unusual knack for disappearing among the crates, nooks and crannies and reappearing when he wanted feeding or comfort. The other on the the hatch, watching the metal creak and groan under the planet's heat, air shimmering as midday sun made temperatures aboard the Razor Crest soared.

On the first night alone with the child you were fearful, the tension palpable. It was the first time you'd been alone in a very long time. The cold night let your imagination run wild. Bounty hunters were waiting in the shadows of the parking deck. Empire elite were stood outside of the Razor Crest, blasters held high with smug grins under fierce helmets. The sounds of hull settling as the desert winds blew tricked your mind into believing salvers were canvassing the ship, looking for entry points. Sleep didn't come easy, but the child seemed undisturbed lulling into an easy slumber as the sun slipped from the sky. He, at least had faith in his Father's success. You watched his strange little face twitch in it's deep sleep, wrinkles moving softly as it's little mouth let out a tiny mewl. His tiny claws coiled around the blanket as he tussled in his dreams, the metal dome from the top of the thruster nestled under his chin.

“At least you're sleeping sound little one. Wonder if your Dad is doing the same.”

The second day was strained, you could hear the bustle of the ship yard. A cornucopia of races and creeds living and working as you stilled in time. You both watched quietly from the window, searching for a friendly familiar face but seeing nothing a but a sea of strangers. Which when you thought about it left a lot of room for irony. The face you were looking for, wasn't even a face at all. You had no idea what manner of man hid behind the Beskar. What his face looked like, or the colour of his skin. Were his eyes warm, or his mouth kind? How would his hair feel, did he have any? You could visualise in your head what you think he could look like, it made you feel safe, warm. One of his tunic's clung to your skin, his scent fading from the threads. You held it tightly against your form, caught in a spiral of want and loneliness. Grief and fear beckoned at your door, it was as dark as the void and thrumming in your veins.

Then light.

Three small, green fingers rested against your forearm, a tiny beacon of warmth and hope. Somehow the child had sensed your disposition. His large, dewy eyes squinted in concentration. A wave feel over you, cocooning you, wrapping you in a field of  metaphorical light. Your mood shifted as the child fell to his bottom with a huff of exhaustion. He let out a big yawn, his mouth stretched wide and he looked to you with a sleepy smile, arms grabbing for you.

You took his slight weight in your arms and cradled him, astounded and confused about what you'd felt. His pointed lobes flickered as he breathing slowed and he fell asleep once more. You padded to and fro in the cockpit as your thoughts coalesced. Just what was this kid and why did the Tin Man have to keep hiding him? He had certainly done something to you, what he'd done, you weren't sure. Your mind would drift to the mission, and how a bounty was being collected for old Jedi relics. Surely not? This little thing, a Jedi? You placed him into his cradle, and took a seat opposite watching him sleep. His little chest rise and fell in a soft metronome. The outside world fell apart as you focused surely on the bundle in silver. What power could one so small wield? And to be with a Mandalorian at that? Which was hilarious considering your heritage. A mere three decades ago and you would have killed on another on site, funny how the galaxy changed.

Blaster fire, a solemn smile and the distinct sound of metal against metal.

You woke up, the pressurised doors opening from the base of the ship catapulting you alert. It was the middle of the night and much cooler, goosebumps graced your bare forearms as the planet's suns had disappeared. In his cradle, the child slept still. Poor little tyke must have been exhausted. You sat, and listened to the sounds in the hull, waiting for something to appear up the ladders. Blaster in hand, pointed at the top rung, you waited. A cold shiver ran down your spine as you shook away at the fatigue that clawed at your mind. You held your breath as a foot hit the bottom rung of the ladder. You pushed yourself back against the Captain's chair as a second clang chased up to the cockpit. You heard a grunt from down below and could have screamed if your voice hadn't failed you.

The child awoke, smiling, waving a tiny hand at you as if waving good morning. He babbled conversationally and you tried to shush him the best you could, but he was already wriggling out of his blankets and making his way to his little feet.

A glimmer of something dark appeared at the top of the ladder. “You know, if I really was a raider, you'd be dead by now.”

The child let out a laugh, and you slumped into the chair, limbs going limp. “Mando...” you breathed a sigh of relief.

His head appeared, and the rest quickly followed. His fingers tapped quickly at the controller on his wrist and the lights of the console gave the Razor Crest enough light so he could see you both. He grunted a greeting and dropped his rifle against the back of one of the co-pilot seats along with the backpack he had hauled over his shoulder. As the strap of the bag wrapped around the back of the chair he winced, a pained hiss mottled by the vocoder.

You were on your feet instantly, inspecting him. Beskar was pocked with blaster burns, gunpowder and caked in blood and mud. “What happened to you?”

“ Mhm, m'fine. Just Setu's bounty.”

Your fingers hovered over the metal of his chest plate, fingers itching to rest themselves against it. “Did you get the bounty?” You asked, voice low, eyes scanning the damage.

A groan of pain crackled through the helmet. “Yeah, he was holed up in some caves outside of the city with a crew. Knew I was coming and put up a fight. It's fine. I have the artefacts.”

It's fine? Fine. No it bloody wasn't. He could have died, and  you would have been stranded with a magic kid and no idea on where to go next. He didn't even leave you with comms. You balled up your fingers and they wrung against the armour, a deft cling rang through the cockpit followed by the sounds of your wailing. “It's not fine! I had no idea where you'd gone, or if you were coming back! I kept thinking the Empire or some kriffing raiders would blow a whole in the hull every five minutes. It's not been fine since I was dragged from Arbor! My family is dead, my home is gone and then you left me too!!!”

He ignored the pain as you wailed against his chest, sure he'd been out in the wilds hunting down a rival gang for Setu. Leteron's were scrappy and resourceful little bastards, and with four arms meant they could carry three more blasters than him, but he managed – eventually. Beyond all of that, Din knew what it was like to be torn away from everything you'd ever known and forced to cope with a strange situation.  He could understand your plight. So he waited.

You crushed against him, feeling the cold beat of metal against your chest as your wrapped your arms around him. He had some height on you, so your head rested against the top of his shoulder, tears dripping into the thick cotton cloak. The sound of babbling came from your feet and you could feel his tiny fingers against your calf, like he was trying to hug you.

A sigh of frustration came from the Mandalorian, his kid always won in the end. “Fine,” he said looking down through his visor at the small mediator. “But no crying the next time I put you in the fresher.” You heard the small mewl of acknowledgement.

With uncertainty, Din wrapped both of his arms around you. Encasing you into a warmth you settled into your very soul. He was unsure, uncomfortable, but he bared it. He still remembered being carried and held as a boy, soaring into the sky, along with a member of the Death Watch. The warmth and compassion shown by the warriors that saved him, shaped him. He supposed you just needed the same. His thick gloves curled around the opposing shoulder and brought you closer. Sure, he smelt worse than a decomposing Rancor, but you didn't mind. Soon your wails curbed to hiccuped sobs, and trembling, you let go. Knowing that if you didn't soon, Mando might soon keel over. In a moment of uncharacteristic affection he cupped the back of your neck with a gloved hand, running his thumb along your jaw.

“Jate, udesla jii,” Good, calm now.

Electricity ran through you as he reached over you to pick the child up. You held your cheek where the leather had traced and found yourself clamouring for it all over again.

“Tin man?” He looked at you an nodded, child on his hip as took a seat in the Captain's chair. “Thank you, for rescuing me. I'm sorry I shouted.”

Mando shook his head, as the child patted the Beskar with growing concern. “It's fine. Can you get the bacti spray for me?” He groaned as the child tried splay his little fingers against the metal – what was the kid trying to do? “No,” he directed at the alien. “I'll use the stim, understand, adiik?”

You watched as the child sat, dejected on his Father's lap, the metal dome of the thruster tight in his little claws.

“Sure,” you said, looking at the bag containing the artefacts. “And what about the Jedi relics?”

“They're going to help me find his people.” He replied, again, as if his short answers solved anything.

Curiosity took the better of you, so you took a peek. Peeling back the tan lip of the bag, a soft glow filled the contents. You grabbed it with both hands, pulling back the hessian slip that encased it. In the palm of your hand sat the holocron cube, no bigger than the box your bean buns sat it. Except, this was different from a bakery box. Get a true look at it, you noticed it was glass, adorned in intricate gold and it lived. From the inside you could feel a wave, a humming of life and a big change. The box lifted from your hands, a soft blue glow emitting from the glass. You stood back, confused, watching it as it floated across the cockpit and landed into the hands of the child. His shiny dome forgotten about as this new object filled both of his tiny hands. The metal corners shifted, and the cube activated.

Everything was about to change.

[so-i-dont-forget-again]

So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 97: Gerudo Town

 There’s all sorts of different women in the town. Gerudo, Hylians, Rito, Gorons, travelers, reporters, merchants, and so much more. Not just the people but the shops and services are varied too. Inns, bars, clothing shops, jewelry shops, food stalls, spas, library, there’s just so much! By far this has got to have been one of the liveliest places I’ve been. Everyone is so kind here too! It’s also much cooler here than outside. Small canals flow throughout the entire place. There are plenty of trees that provide shade. I just love it here!

Many people but the Gerudo especially compliment me a lot. They, like everything else here vary. Some people call me cute or adorable, some say I have a strong figure, some really like my eyes, but everyone always says that I look especially cute when I blush which always happens after they compliment me. I wonder why I never got compliments like this not in my Gerudo outfit? Maybe I act a little differently when wearing this and that’s what people like or make them notice me? Oh! They also found Bossa Nova to be cute too!

As we were passing by a Jewelry shop, we met the distressed owner. Turns out she needs flint to do her work but due to sandstorms becoming much more violent lately she hasn’t been able to get any. I gave her some of mine since I had gotten so much from the little mining I did at Death Mountain. As thanks she let me pick something from her store for free. While deciding she taught me about the different properties of gems is utilized properly. Like how Amber increases defense, Opal helps improve your speed in water, Topaz resists lightning, Sapphire keeps you cool in the heat, Ruby keeps you warm, and Diamond can resist Garidan attacks. She even gave me some demonstrations on how they exactly do this. I found it all so fascinating I ended up writing it all down on a separate piece of paper. She helped me refine my note taking too. It was all so beautiful and amazing I really wanted all of them, from rings to necklaces, earrings, bracelets, circlets, and so much more. I ended up trading the raw gemstones I had to get more jewelry. They were just too pretty and useful to leave behind! I also had to get some for Bossa Nova too! He’s used to Zora Domain’s cool climate and not this heat, so I equipped a pair of sapphire bracelets on his hind legs. I got a lot of Sapphire stuff since we’re in a desert though since I’m in town I’m not wearing them yet.

I’m not exactly sure how this happened but I ended up talking to a woman about the different cuisine of different places. She said that the height of Gerudo food was a drink called a ‘Noble Pursuit’ that can only be gotten at ‘The Noble Canteen’. I think I’ll check it out after beating the Divine Beast.

I had spent a long time exploring the place, it’s just so big and there’s so much to do, but I did come here for a purpose. It turns out that there’s a place where people can freely meet the chief if there are any problems. Of anyone she must know how to get to the Divine Beast.

She looks similar to Purah, young with and air of maturity to her. She is Riju the Gerudo Chief. Buliara her bodyguard stood beside her telling me to not come close and to state my business or leave. Right away Chief Riju spotted my Shika Slate on my waist and asked for my name. After telling her my name I stated why I came here. Buliara scoffed at me saying only a Champion could do such a thing but they were all dead. It was then the Chief recalled something her mother told her. When the Calamity happened, Princess Zelda had a fallen swordsman placed into a deep sleep and the name of that man was Link. Buliara added that the man was also said to have carried a legendary sword which I do not possesses. The sword was called one which could seal darkness. The Chief added that the princess supposedly hid it deep in a forest. Though because of my name and the Sheiks Slate by my side there was a chance that I am him. Buliara then exclaimed that I’m a voe. The Chief said that since I’m a Champion, I was friends with Lady Urbosa, and since I’m here to help them deal with Naboris, we’re allies. As long as I stayed a woman within the walls of the town then I was still a woman and allowed to be here. She then explained the situation. The Divine Beast Vah Naboris cloaks itself in a massive continuously expanding sandstorm, hurling lightning at any who approach it. It’s fast too, even if one would try to avoid it they would likely be consumed by the choking sand or struck down by light. As soon as she had asked me for help Buliara interrupted, saying that a stranger could not be entrusted with such an important task. She then said that I could possibly prove myself by retrieving the stolen Thunder Helm an heirloom passed down from Chief to Chief. It is the only thing that can deflect the powerful lightning. The Yiga Clan had stolen it soon after Vah Naboris started causing trouble. The Yiga Clan have their base hidden away in the Gerudo Highlands, the snowy cliffs right next to the desert. The leader of the soldiers marked on my map where they found the hideout to be, and also mentioned that they did send someone to do some scouting, but she hadn’t returned. I had to prove myself first by fighting and beating their top-ranking soldiers before they would tell me anything though. It served at good practice.

I believe it best to avoid fighting there. It’s their base of operation there will be so many enemies, so I need to be careful. For now, I’ll get some sleep at the inn while I wait for the sun to start rising.

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