#this isn’t even getting into how herbs that are safe for you might be deadly to your pets | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saphirered · 3 years

Note

Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #fjord x reader #caduceus x reader #mollymauk x reader #critical role #mighty nein

156 notes · View notes

ibijau · 3 years

Note

I believe you can bring this trashfire to life. 22 and 21 for Xuanwu/Jingy 😉

1. I treated this way too seriously 2. congrats on winning the ‘crackiest ship prompt I’ve received’ award 3. I picked the “Bandaging them up, scolding them for getting themselves hurt” prompt but tbh it’s barely there

There is pain, worse than anything that it has ever known, and then there is darkness and bone deep cold.

There isn’t death though.

It is too old to die so easily.

When it regains some sort of consciousness, it is weak. Weaker than it has been in many, many years. It hasn’t been so weak since it started cultivating. The energy it carefully accumulated through eating other creatures has been almost depleted to keep it alive, just as it was finally getting strong enough to consider taking a human shape. It will have to wait a little more.

That’s not a problem.

It is patient.

It is also hungry.

Its current form, massive and deadly, is a waste of energy, so one of the first things it does, upon waking up, is to make itself smaller. It can move faster like this, and prey on small creatures until it finds a good place to cultivate. Then, when it has strength again, it will devour humans once more, until it can take their shape and be one step closer to immortality and true power and then… then it will be untouchable.

Like most things, it fears death.

Having come too close to it, it fears it more than ever.

Smaller and nimbler it escapes the cave that had become its prison without issue, and sets out to feed itself. The mountains around its cave become bloodied and fearful, as they should be. And yet, there isn’t much to eat there. Mice, rabbits, a fox here and there. There are boars too, but it dares not attack them yet, not until it knows it is strong enough for it.

After some months, it feels confident enough.

It shouldn’t have.

The boars in these mountains are led by a demon, one stronger and older than him, protecting its herd from all enemies. The demon boar lunges upon it as soon as it approaches one of the sows, and thus starts a duel between them. For ten days and ten nights, it fights the demon boar, refusing to admit defeat. There can be no defeat. Not when the two humans weakened it so much in that cave, not when the demon boar has what they lacked: the power to truly kill it.

Day after day, night after night, the two bite and stomp and growl, disturbing the mountains around them, pursuing each other even into the lands that humans occupy.

This, it turns out, is what saves it.

Because they are disturbed, the humans take arms and join the fight. Figures in white that bear swords attack them. The demon board, proud and ancient, fights right back, outraged that mere mortals dare to stand against its power. While it is occupied with these new opponents, the old one flees to lick its wounds.

It cannot go very far, not in the state it is in. All it can do is make itself smaller still, to save energy, and hide under a fallen tree to bide its time. Sooner or later, the smell of its blood will attract insects, or perhaps some mice if it is lucky. A fox even, who knows. It is sure to attract something, and then it will feast, and then it will heal. This is only a minor setback. It doesn’t change its plans in the least.

All it means is that someday, when it is back to its full strength, it will challenge the demon boar again and devour it.

It will not lose again.

That plan is ruined when it is found by something rather bigger than a fox. Something more dangerous as well.

A few hours after escaping the demon boar, it is found by a human.

Small as it currently is, it can still tell that the human isn't very big for one of its kind. Its energy is wild and uncontrolled too, meaning it must still be young. If it had any strength left, it would devour that child. Even in its diminished state, it considers it. Taking on its true shape would be exhausting, but it might be worth the risk.

Before it can get started on that, the child laughs and lifts it up to look at it.

"You're a funny turtle!" it giggles. "Oh ! Your neck is so long!"

Furious at being handled like this, it tries to bite the human. To its surprise, the child has quick reflexes and grabs it by the base of its neck before its teeth can sink into flesh.

"Oh, you have big teeth. I didn't even know turtles had teeth. Maybe you're a special turtle? But you also look a bit like a snake…"

It is not a turtle, and it is not a snake. It is what it is, and does not need a name, though it knows fearful humans once gave it one.

"You really are funny," the child says. "I'm going to keep you with me until a-niang and a-die come back. They'll know what you are. A-niang knows everything."

It struggles, trying to escape, but the child holds on.

"It's okay, you don't have to be scared," the child says. "You don't have a lot of strength, but it's fine, I'll protect you and we're going to be friends. I'll take you home, and I'll find a secret place to keep you, and it'll be great."

Satisfied with that decision, the child walks away from the place where it hid, taking it with him.

As hours pass, it becomes resigned to its situation, and helplessly listen to the child's chatter.

He is called Lan Jingyi. He is learning cultivation in a great sect. His parents and him were on their way home after visiting his maternal grandparents for the new year, but they stumbled upon some problems. Jingyi's parents told him to hide while they took care of some disturbances, and will return when things are safe again. After a while Jingyi got bored, and started to walk around looking for something to do.

It has been a long, long while since it has spent so much time in the company of a creature without fighting to kill. This child talks too much, but he bears it no ill will, which is an odd feeling. In fact, Jingyi, upon noticing on its body the marks of its fight with the demon boar, takes something greasy from a pouch he carries, and applies it to the wounds.

The grease smells of grass and flowers, but the taste of it is unpleasant.

“Don’t eat that, it’s for healing!” Jingyi scolds it. “Also, you should be more careful. How did you get all hurt like that? You shouldn’t pick fights, you know. A-niang says, don’t fight others if you can’t win.”

It hisses at the child. It would have won that fight, if those humans had not weakened it.

"When we go home, I'll ask Hanguang-jun to look at you," Jingyi announces. "He knows about rabbits, and turtles can't be too different. Then we’ll heal you, and find you a nice place to stay and… and if you’re not in the house, you’re not a pet, so it’s fine. Sizhui says that’s why the rabbits are allowed.”

It tries, again, to bite the child, but is stopped. Its indignation and anger remain. It does not like being compared to rabbits, which are mere prey. It is a hunter, a dangerous killer, a king among beasts. It is a triumphant being that none can harm… or it was, once. It will be so again, once it recovers.

“It’s getting kind of dark, isn’t it?” Jingyi remarks, his voice trembling slightly. “I think… I think we should have dinner, and maybe find a place to stop and continue waiting for a-niang and a-die. I bet you’re hungry too, right?”

It is, of course, famished. It worries for a brief moment that the child will attempt to eat it. It would do that, if it only had the strength, or if this were a weaker child, but Jingyi has shown already he would be no easy prey in spite of his youth. If Jingyi attacks it and tries to eat it…

But this does not happen. Instead, from the little pouch at his side, Jingyi now produces a few round and pale balls. Their fragrant smell hits its nose with enough strength to make it dizzy. There is meat in there, among other things.

Jingyi sits on the forest ground, very mindful of his posture and his clothes, and puts the creature next to him. He takes one of the balls for himself, and puts the other on the ground.

“I hope it’s okay that it’ll get a bit dirty. A-niang says I can’t eat things that have fallen in the dirt, but since you’re a turtle I guess that’s fine.”

It does not mind the dirt. That’s a part of feeding.

It is, however, confused by the offering of food. It knows that gods are gifted sacrifices, but this seems different. Jingyi does not know it is not an ordinary beast, so he cannot be trying to appease it, or to demand favours from it. So why waste food on another being? It has never seen such a thing. Even before it began cultivating, its species was a solitary one, born from eggs that hatched alone, and then never collaborated with its own kind save for the brief necessities of reproduction. Generosity is a foreign concept for it, and so this makes it suspicious.

Compared to hunger, suspicion doesn’t hold much power.

The fight with the demon boar was a fierce one, it is now famished, and the pale ball smells delicious. Keeping an eye on Jingyi, it extends its neck and bites into the ball.

The texture of the ball is soft as snow, the taste richer than anything it has ever eaten. For a moment it stays frozen, shocked that such a sensation is even possible. This is nothing like devouring fresh flesh and bones. This is a delight so great that it wonders, for a moment, if it has ascended to immortality all of a sudden, because nothing in the mortal realm could be this pleasant.

That first bite is quickly swallowed, and it bites again, and again, until it reaches the filling inside that pale ball. Somehow, that manages to be even better. The meat there has been made tender and savoury, there are herbs and plants which compliments one another to perfection.

For the first time in its life, it is eating not merely out of hunger, but out of pleasure.

“I guess you like that,” Jingyi remarks, chewing on his own share. “I made them with a-niang, that’s why they have meat. A-die doesn’t eat meat, because of Lan rules, but a-niang says it’s stupid and meat buns bring more energy when we travel. Also, they’re tasty, right? Hm… but if you eat meat, I can’t show you to Hanguang-Jun. He wouldn’t like it if you tried to bite the rabbits. Maybe I can ask Zewu-Jun to look at you… but he follows the rules more so he’ll probably… ah! I forgot I’m not supposed to talk during meals!”

Jingyi looks down at the creature which is still devouring the bun with such pleasure it would weep, if its body were made for it.

“Hey, you won’t tell anyone that I talked during the meal, right? We’re friends, so you can’t tell anyone. Friends have to stick together.”

He sounds worried enough that the creature stops eating and looks at him. Friends, like generosity, is a foreign concept to it, though one it has witnessed a little more often. Groups of friends have attempted to defeat it in the past, and it has seen weak demons band together to better survive. It remembers, also, those two humans in the cave, working together with practiced ease, coming so close to killing it.

After some consideration, it nods at Jingyi. They can be friends, as thanks for the food.

Jingyi grins, and resumes chatting about many things and many people. Clearly, he enjoys talking, and so this rule of silence must be hard on him.

After a while, they both finish eating. The creature feels warm and content and sleepy, even more than it did so many years ago when it entered that cave, fat on the flesh of those it devoured. Since night has now fallen, Jingyi lays down on the ground, curled up on himself, the creature in his arm. He smells faintly of fear, but he is young and walked a lot, and so he still manages to fall asleep.

It starts nodding off as well, but is quickly awakened by the presence of others nearby.

This forest, at the foot of the mountain, is ancient, and has seen many tragedies. As such, of course there are many beings there that are attracted by the tasty energy of a young boy. As the night gets dark, ghosts and demons gather around Jingyi, sniffing him out, desperate to steal his energy and be fed for a little while. It is an isolated place, and they often go years without sustenance.

If not for the creature in Jingyi’s arms, the boy would be dead.

It is not, at the moment, very impressive to look at, but its aura is still that of a centuries old demon that has eaten more humans than those pitiful ghosts could ever dream of. It is powerful beyond anything they’ve ever seen, except maybe the boar demon that occasionally comes down from the mountain… and since they’ve learned to fear that boar demon, they know they probably need to fear this one as well.

Still, the sleeping boy tempts them. They beg for a taste, for a bite.

“Mine,” it hisses, snapping its weak jaws at those who dare come too close. “Mine!”

There is an alliance now between it and Jingyi. The child gave it food, and asked for friendship in return, which it agreed to. It is now bound to its word, bound to this child, and it will protect him.

“Mine.”

If even one of these ghosts and demons tried to attack, then it would probably be powerless to defend Jingyi. Even after the miracle that was eating that bun, it still hasn’t recovered its strength. The fight with the demon boar was just too much. Still it makes itself feel scary, hissing and snapping, growling threats at them all, until dawn arrives at last and they return into hiding.

It has protected Jingyi.

It has been a friend.

Jingyi wakes soon after the sun rises. He looks a little tired still, but that is no surprise with so many ghosts and demons gathered around him all night. He eats a bun, and once again gives another to the creature.

Agreeing to the friendship was a good choice. Even now that it is no longer starving, the bun still tastes as delicious. More so perhaps. It can eat more slowly this time, and fully appreciate the flavour.

It has only eaten about half of the bun, while listening to more of Jingyi’s chatter, when other voices start being heard, coming from far away. It braces itself, fearing it might be stronger demons, the sort that would dare to attack even in daylight, but next to it, Jingyi jumps to his feet and starts shouting back.

“A-niang! A-niang, I’m here! A-die, a-niang!”

The voices come closer. Jingyi gets more and more excited, jumping in place, but still careful not to trample his friend.

“They’re here, they found me!” he exclaims as he grabs his friend, and brings it toward the pouch at his side. “We’re going home! Just, be quiet, don’t make a fuss. If they see you they’ll make me leave you behind, so you have to be quiet.”

That is all the warning it gets before it is dumped into the pouch. It fears being in such a small space, but quickly realises that the inside of the pouch is bigger than the outside, and relaxes. When its half eaten bun joins it, it decides that this isn’t a bad arrangement, and simply goes back to eating. It protected Jingyi during the night, and now is being protected by him during the day. This seems like a good arrangement. Friendship is not a bad thing to have.

A long while seems to pass after that. It does not mind. Having eaten that second bun made it sleepy, and so it takes the chance to rest.

It awakes to the pouch being opened, and Jingyi’s hand seizing it with great gentleness. It is pleased to see its friend again, and shows it by not trying to bite him. Jingyi smiles at it, and a faint smell of fear disappears.

“Sorry to have left you in there so long, I just couldn’t find a moment,” Jingyi says with relief. “I’m glad you’re fine. And your wounds are better too! That’s great!”

“That’s a weird turtle,” another youthful voice says. “Maybe you really should show it to an adult.”

Next to where Jingyi is sitting in the grass, there is another boy. He is shorter, but seems older, and doesn’t appear too impressed with the creature, as if he can guess its true nature.

“They’ll tell me to put it in the wild,” Jingyi says. “And then maybe it’ll be eaten by… by… what eats turtles, anyway?”

“I think foxes,” the other boy guesses. “They eat everything, right?”

“I can’t let it be eaten by a fox!” Jingyi gasps with horror. “But here, it’ll be safe, and I can check on it, and bring it buns.”

“I don’t think turtles are supposed to eat buns.”

It is starting to dislike the second boy. Thankfully, Jingyi only laughs.

“This one does. That’s because a-niang’s buns are the best,” he explains, before turning his attention back to the creature. “Look, I found you such a nice place to live, okay? Isn’t this a nice little pond? I’m sure you’ll find stuff to eat, and anyway I’ll come visit often to give you buns. Do you like it?”

He puts down his friend near the edge of the water. This is, in fact, a very nice pond. The water is clear, showing fish inside. Nearby, mice can be heard. It will not lack for food. More importantly though, the pond has all the signs of being a good place to cultivate, better even than the one where it started its journey, centuries ago. It will be easy, here, to regain what was lost to the two humans and the demon boar. Agreeing to Jingyi’s friendship continues to be a great decision.

For the first time in its long life, it feels truly grateful. And so, to show it, it bows to Jingyi before entering the water. It hears the two boys gasp, Jingyi claiming this is proof his friend is no ordinary animal, the other boy worrying that maybe there is something wrong with the creature.

It ignores both of them, and swims around to map its new territory.

It is a very good pond, and already, it feels new energy flowing through it just from being in such an auspicious place. In a few months, it will easily be able to take again its old shape if it wishes, and then it could go on a rampage again.

It could.

It might not. If it kills humans, Jingyi might not bring it buns anymore.

Better, then, to cultivate in the slower method, to keep this smaller shape for now. With some luck and effort, in a few years, it will reach again the level it was at before those two humans harmed it, and then…

And then, it will be able to take a human shape at last.

It wonders how Jingyi will react to that.

It cannot wait to find out.

#xuanwu of slaughter #tortoise of slaughter #lan jingyi #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #it is very much pre-shipping #I don't know how old jingyi is but I'd say 8 max #ancient demonic abomination being bought of by a small act of kindness is a trope I love ok?#veraverorum #bad ship prompts #Xuanwu of friendship

51 notes · View notes

captainkurosolaire · 3 years

Text

Deadly Scheme

Suddenly after tasting victory for an ilm in facial features, the younger Keeper began fearfully pausing at distraught, unable to continue or use the function of his limbs, against his own design, administering a hold on his own throat and choking violently, squeezing the pressure with white-gloved hands. Choking and trying his mightiest to retrain, Silva's unrelenting power seemed unstoppable. Captain ripped off his shirt to block getting electrified and to safely rush back into the fray only to see the same scenery. “What ar’ you doing, Shiro! You’ve got him finished! Don’t beat yerself up.” Not recognizing that he was being bent against his will and hostage and also the Keeper unable to hear. Struggling under his choke, “I--can--’t con-tr-ol” Shiro’s other hand meticulously aiming at the imbecile scoundrel. Who took in resolve still containing the ice-sword he’d break through and shatter this enemy and give him complete decimation. Only when he got close, the possessed Shiro, manipulated the scimitar into reshaping into a self-impaling halberd that pierced through the pirate. Then combusted in a cryogenic explosion that sent Captain repelling and catapulting back into a harsh thud of defeat a side of his ribs fractured or shattered. Looking bewildered at the Seeker’s palms was surprisingly warm but only in his own sanguine nectar. Shiro forcefully pushed as he was being compelled to release Silv’a from the imprisonment. Otherwise choking and dying for nothing, this attempt was unsuccessful to claim victory. Unable to contest with the wrath no matter how many his backtracking leg’s stunted and relented, his need for oxygen demanded it, instincts kicking in with betrayal. He dissolved and freed his terrible evil from his own encasing and finally found his lung’s catching up. Silv’a cracked out stiffness and bone sores before mercilessly summoning a bundle of shards of ice and puncturing his own son and impaled him to the flooring with nails to his extremities. The injurie’s carried over into the Elder but unlike his son, had complete regeneration and recuperated every harmful effect as if indestructible. The soul-link faded from it’s duration at knick, unfortunately, disappointment continued to follow with his son. If only he endured a little longer, if his resolve of hatred for Silv’a soared higher. Towering over the two fallen moon and sun. He was their eclipse on this doomsday. A mighty debonair voice echoed over in a lecture of supremacy. “You can’t possibly think you’ll win. Even if you managed to kill me, another me will achieve where I failed. Evil, Good. It’ll always exist. None of their definitive methods matter by the end. Both forces believe they’re right.” “I am saving the world from the scar’s of calamity. If we all become immortal. Another catastrophe can’t slaughter us to extinction. We’ll be prepared by any interspiece traveler this time.The survivors won’t have to mourn! Our born mortal flesh is inferior! An imperfect design with an expiration date. Why clamour to be less?” “Those who survive the tormented soul’s who seek to bless every living thing on this Realm, will be the undefined STRONG. We’ll become a unified mutual structure. The hierarchy will shift drastically. Wealth will not be a determining factor. What you were distinctly racially born as, won’t matter! Don’t you see!” “Haven’t you ever questioned why these deities abandoned this realm after the recorded First Era? This world was studied once as an unimaginable beauty. But as creation’s came into, warring Beast Tribes and more race’s began migrating, our flaws served a catalyst corrupting and consuming with wedged separations. We became a lost cause.”

Twitching an angry wavy brow, Captain weakly unleashed an uproar, “SHUT TH’ HELL UP!” He’d begin lifting himself up and rummage a salving herb that bandaged his wound used by his other soul-half that roamed wilds, after wincing out, “I don’t give a shite. You wouldn’t possibly UNDERSTAND what we’ve done to survive while you were gone and hiding like a rat in a gutter inside your own son, by the way. Disgusting. That’s even immoral for me… I never needed the validation of’ the Twelve. Or my many betters. If I made it. So did many others, in a way we struggle more than any predated heroes, innocent’s still finding a reason to smile, t’ still find harmony, they create harboring hope and to endure, that’s strength! They’re th’ attraction! World hasn’t lost its radiance. We’ve only incorporated it into our lifeforms, after having my shared venture’s... If peace was an option, I would pick it! Building our massive societies and cultures, that’s why we pirate’s sailed! Not all forget history, we build and advance continuously, It’s also why the relics you even hold, were found, because of the Scour. We might be a doom cause, but by it all we restore with us joining as one! Many race’s loathe each other from old wounds, now, because of Realm defining Wars we’re getting closer to accepting one another, because this is our ship we share!” Pausing before catching his lungs up then gently, calmly, soothing continuing. A powerful retort was passionately conveyed by the seafarer. “The mortals.” “Dying is ever important for th’ next phase ov’ Living.” “What’ll happen when everyone becomes an immortal demon that eats and devours all living-sources and we run out? Think of that! You preach about invaders that caused Calamities. We’d eventually do it to another Realm n’ be th’ invader and eventually we’ll go back to fighting each other internally. Yer perfect hierarchy is still a BROKEN system! Becoming all equal isn’t th’ answer. Wondrous diversities, that's knowing true treasure.” Shiro was stunned and staggered that Captain even managed to deductively vent at that point, something that would’ve fit his own retort as he regained his hearing to rise with the aspiring pirate. “...Well said.” Breaking his binding ice that rooted him with a howling defiance. Highlighting a visage with an impressed but still grumbling as the polar-pair resisted and fought as warriors even with their extensive wounds only gathering more, even if they died ultimately here, at least they fought the devil instead of hid. Silv’a crossed his arms before cackling his head back, “As I said. We’ll never agree. You’ll see once it all transpires, I’m right. You’ll all be mended… Well, except you boys, I don’t think you’ll survive. You’ve caused me enough headaches! In Fact… I think you should return to your nursery.” Reading off the Voidal Relic the Scroll of the Twelve with a finger rub over the spell, he’d unleash a terrifying curse. “What now?” Captain wouldn’t like this, Shiro more sensible, “Come on stop gawking, Solaire, we’ve got to stop him!” Silv’a uttered, <”Unvalued flowed time is constantly to be set-back until before they prospered.>!” Empowering it with an old Mhachi tongue. As Shiro and Kuro rushed their next barrage they noticed the world getting larger... or, well, them getting smaller. They began shrinking into their child forms being toddlers but retaining their wisdom, least temporarily. Their bodies however were once again pesky chibi-like kids. Completely harmless and so fragile. “I feel like my balls were reversed from dropping, so painfully unpleasant.” Captain’s first thing he noticed as his pitch became predated with puberty. Turning to Shiro who was overlooking his own form, “Argh! We've been transformed into runts.” Silv’a laughing gallantly, succeeding in disposing of them. “Precisely you spoiled pest, now sit tight and observe.” He’d create a kid’s play-pen they couldn’t even climb out from their heights being insignificant. See-through fenced with an ice wall barricading them in. Only so they could bewilder failure. A dangerous curse that would constantly become even more potent as time durated as shortly even their own actual age would be reversed until they were drooling infants and slobbering messes who could only crawl, then eventually they’d cease of existence. Shiro and Kuro looked in complete disarray and despair. The sorcerer conducted his actual plan by aligning the Voidal Relics; they were keys for something of a grander scheme beyond their forbidden usages. The more drawn together they could be conduit’s to open up a gateway even more terrifying than that of the Void alone. A teared rift that could endanger all if it came to pass a place deemed of no escape was beginning to be drawn forth with Mhachi blood and the unity of demon’s. The Tormented Plane’s laid to open, so came certain Oblivion. The worst of the worst sinners and tortured would eventually find escape when the Rift fully opened, unleashed after a phase of time and by continuing draining each relic independently. (Previous) << (Voidal Relics) >> (Next)

#Tales of the Goldbrand #Dark Fantasy #Lord Shiro Elune #Allies Rivals #Silv'a #Big Bad vs Big Bads #Noble #Pirate #The Immortal Age Saga #creative writing

7 notes · View notes

ditsydaydream · 3 years

Text

Catch Me If I Fall

Newt (TMR) x OC

summary: before the events of the maze runner, Newt tried to kill himself and only his girlfriend, Florrie, can save him

notes: Maria and Ada are my other TMR OCs, the rest are pre-existing characters. Only change made or the story is that Florrie is the Keeper of the Med-jacks, not Clint. Florrie, Maria and Ada will each be getting their own post about their profiles and characters etc.

Newt was still asleep on one of the beds, he’d been out for a few hours now; I’d drugged him up on enough poppies so that he’d hopefully sleep for another few hours. I thought it was because I just wanted him to heal, he deserved rest, but my eyes kept jumping back to the ivy scales on the wall, and I knew then I drugged him excessively because I wasn’t ready to talk about what happened. I don’t think I’d ever be ready.

Every time I blink, I see him up there. Halfway up the walls that imprisoned the Glade, his grip on the vines loosening as he looks down at me, tears running down my cheeks. I could have sworn he mouthed ‘I’m sorry’. But it didn’t matter. Because a second later Newt let go of the vines and plummeted towards the ground.

The thud as he hit the grass tore through my body. I wasn’t aware of the desperate screams that escaped my mouth, my vision too blurred with tears to see all the Gladers run to his nearly lifeless body, as I collapsed on the ground.

Clint and Jeff were yelling at me, I was the Keeper of the Med-jacks, I was in charge of healing Gladers. This was my job, my responsibility. Newt’s life was in my hands. Their shouts were muffled, my lungs had tightened up as the only clear thing I could hear was the pounding of my heartbeat in my head.

I felt a tightness on my shoulders, someone started shaking them, snapping me out of my shock. Gally’s voice was firm, it cut through my despair like a knife.

‘Florrie! Hey, snap out of it. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever you’re thinking, you gotta push it aside. Newt needs you to save him, we all need you to save him.’

Regaining my focus and bottling up my shock, I nodded. Gally pulled me up and we both sprinted after the boys that were carrying Newt to the Med Hut.

‘Put him on the bed.’ I ordered.

‘Jeff, I need poppies, clean bandages, and a splint. Maria, I need you to grab herbs, get me yarrow, lavender, aloe and as much gingko as you can spare. Clint, examine Newt’s lower body for any broken bones, torn ligaments and wounds. Gally and Ada, I need three buckets of boiled water. Alby, get everyone out. Unless you’re a Med-jack or are getting me supplies, I don’t want you in here.’ I barked, yelling orders at everyone.

The Gladers darted off to retrieve the supplies I needed, everyone else filtered out of the Hut, trying to return back to their jobs.

‘You too, Alby.’ I ordered, as I washed my hands.

‘Are you sure you’re okay to do this? Clint and Jeff can do this.’ He said, gently.

‘Newt is on his death bed. And you think I’m just going to walk away? Alby, I can do this.’

He nodded, exiting the Hut. I went back over the bed hurriedly, the love of my life lying almost deadly still.

‘Sorry, babe’. I apologised, before ripping his mud-splattered shirt in apart, leaving his torso exposed to examine his upper body for injuries. I felt around his torso and shoulders, trying to sense the damage caused by the fall.

‘What are you thinking?’ Clint asked.

‘I’m thinking, few broken ribs, fractured arm, nasty cut on one side and head trauma. What you got down your end?’

‘Torn ligaments all along one leg, shattered ankle and a really deep cut.’

From the window, I saw everyone rush back with the supplies I asked for.

‘Alright.’ I said as I rolled up my sleeves, ‘let’s get to work.’

Clint, Jeff and I had worked all through the night, but it was worth it. Newt might not be as strong as was, but the important thing was he was going to make it. I’d made Jeff and Clint go back to their hammocks and get some rest, it wasn’t going to take three of us to watch over Newt and I could deal with any Slicers that needed patching up.

I’d collapsed onto the only other bed in the Hut, exhausted. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow, ignoring the beams of dawn that were breaking through the window.

A few hours later, I was woken from my deep slumber by a gentle rapping at the door.

‘Come in.’ I groaned, unwilling to drag myself from the bed.

Ada crept through the door, a fresh stain on her green shirt from the kitchens and holding a steaming plate that smelt so good my stomach rumbled like rolling thunder.

‘Hey.’ She said.

I pulled myself up on the bed. ‘Hey.’ I yawned back.

‘You doing okay?’

‘I’m shucking whacked, I feel like I need to sleep for days.’ I said, unable to suppress another yawn.

‘You’ve done everything you can for him. You deserve to rest.’ As she walked closer, I began to recognise the smell from the plate and my eyes became fixated on what was smelling so utterly delicious.

‘Did you make me eggs and bacon?’ I asked eagerly, hoping the answer was yes as the thought of my favourite breakfast made me drool.

‘Yeah. Fry was making everyone else their normal breakfast, but I said I should make something for you and the other Med-jacks.’

I practically stole the plate from her hands, placing it on my lap as I gobbled up the warm, perfectly cooked meat and the soft egg.

‘Hungry, are you?’ Ada teased.

‘Shut up.’ I grinned back, through a mouthful of bacon. ‘You would be too if you spent the entire night trying to save someone’s life.’

‘How bad was the damage?’ Ada asked, gently. This was a topic I really didn’t want to talk about.

‘Bad. Really bad. If we hadn’t got him back here in time…’ I trailed off, unable to even say the rest of my sentence.

Ada rubbed my shoulders comfortingly, as I shovelled another mouthful of breakfast.

‘What are you going to say to him?’. She asked.

I sighed, exasperated. ‘I really don’t know. What do you say to someone after they try to kill themselves?’

‘Well, I don’t think you have long to figure it out.’ She nudged my shoulder, referencing Newt’s small groans and little movements. He was waking up.

‘I’ll leave you guys alone.’ She said, taking my finished plate from my hands and the three dishes on the table of uneaten dinner Clint, Jeff and had been too busy to eat last night.

‘Florrie…’ Newt mumbled; his eyes still glued shut as he gradually woke from his slumber.

I stood next to him, waiting for him to wake up.

His eyes fluttered open, I saw those beautiful brown eyes I loved to stare at, filled with such pain. His hair was a ruffled mess and the only thing covering his torso were the bandages I had wrapped around his ribs.

His eyes darted around the room for a second as he took in his surroundings and slowly realised where he was. His eyes met mine and they interlocked for a second, almost making me forget the horrible tragedy he’d inflicted on everyone, almost.

‘Florrie-‘. He began.

‘Quite a fall you had.’ I interrupted, unwilling to hear his apologies.

‘Love-’. He started.

‘Don’t call me that.’ I shot back, too angry for his pet name.

‘Was it a fall?’ I asked, ‘or was it a jump?’

Even though I knew better, I begged for him to tell me it was a fall, an accident. But Newt wouldn’t look at me, I had my answer.

‘I’m not sure your leg will ever full heal. You might have a limp for life.’ I said as I grabbed some clean bandages from the table and began wrapping them around his leg, fiddling with the material and forcing my eyes to not look at him.

‘Florrie, can we talk?’

‘No.’ I said solemnly, tying the bandages up and walking back over the table, pretending to play around with some herbs whilst I hid the tears in my eyes.

‘Please.’ He begged. I could hear the pain in his voice, and it cut through my like a glass shard.

‘I said no, Newt.’

‘Please. Just hear me out.’ He shuffled himself over on the bed, making a little room and beckoning for me to perch on it.

Reluctantly, I walked over to bed and sat next to him.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting you through that. I didn’t mean to hurt you-‘

‘You didn’t mean to hurt me? Newt, you tried to commit suicide!’ I yelled. ‘I had to watch you fall from the wall, and lay on the ground lifeless! If I hadn’t managed to save your life, your blood would be on my hands! I’m the Keeper of the Med-jacks, I’m meant to keep everyone safe!’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think about you. I was just thinking about them.’

‘Who’s them?’

‘Everyone. Every Glader we’ve had to watch die. I couldn’t keep losing my friends, I couldn’t keep seeing them die and have their deaths on my conscious. I couldn’t watch anyone else I care about die.’

‘Newt,’ I slipped my hand into his, ‘We all feel that. I see Nick and George every time I go to sleep at night. No one should ever have to watch their loved ones die, but you can’t let it destroy you. We did everything we could for them.’

‘This place is a prison. We’re prisoners. We’ve been here for so long, what if there’s no way out.’

‘There is.’ I reassured.

‘How can you know that, love?’

‘I can’t believe that we are stuck in here for the rest of our lives, I won’t. There has to be a way out, because if there isn’t,’ I paused, ‘I don’t know what I’ll do. The hope that someday we’ll be out of here, is the one thing keeping me going.’

‘I think I’ve lost my hope.’

‘Find it again. You can’t give up, Newt. We’re Gladers, we got each other. We’re here for you, Alby, Maria, Ada, Frypan, even Gally. And I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.’ I smiled.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest.

‘Thank you, love’

‘Promise me.’ I said, looking up from his chest into his eyes, feeling his warm breath smother my face, ‘Promise me, you’ll keep fighting, Newt.’

‘I will.’ He promised.

‘I know you want to die because of them, but I need you to live for me.’ I begged. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you, Newt.’

‘I love you too, Florrie’. He said back, pressing a gentle kiss on my lips.

For a while we stayed there, Newt drifted back off to sleep but I was wide awake. I cuddled into him, refusing to let got. Because, deep down, a part of me was afraid that if I let go, Newt would slip away.

#maze runner #newt maze runner #oc #maze runner gally #newt imagine #newt fanfic #scorch trials #death cure #newt deserved better #x reader #x oc #the glade #tmr frypan #tmr x reader #tmr newt #tmr alby #tmr fanfic #tmr fandom

25 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 15/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in. Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name. Also on AO3 here

Loki’s eyes widened at Sig’s suggestion. He didn’t like the idea that she’d be going into danger alone. He didn’t like the idea of her going into danger. At all. Sig watched him fight back to urge to tell her that she couldn’t go, that she had to stay in the palace where she’d be safe. He wanted her safe and away from the fae, which she didn’t blame him, but she also knew she had to close the door to Underhill. He finally spoke after all those same thoughts crossed his mind. “Can I help?” He asked gently.

Sig was relieved that he didn’t try to stop her. He just wanted to help and keep her safe while she did what they both knew she had to. She gave him a warm smile, but raised her eyebrow a moment later, back to teasing him. “Like you’d actually let me go into the royal forest too close a door to underhill alone?” she asked, teasing him. She’d been counting on him coming with her and would have been shocked if he hadn’t.

He chuckled in reply and she could tell he was pleased that she wasn’t fighting him about joining her. Sig accepted that he was coming with her, was expecting it even. “True. After what happened, I would rather not let you out of my sight in the royal forest,”

“I know, but we really shouldn’t let a door to underhill remain open in the royal forest…”

He sighed and nodded. “Should we go then?”

Sig could tell he didn’t want to go any more than she did, but they had to so she stood from the couch with a sigh. She had to do this and this stupid idea was hers to begin with. She let her armor shimmer into place as she stood: a metal chest plate over a thigh-length purple tunic, black leggings, gauntlets, and sturdy boots. She wasn’t going to go into potential danger without armor, without weapons. Her long blades were in sheathes at her back, in the perfect position to draw quickly. Loki donned his armor as well, including his horned helmet. “I’m hoping there’s no trouble, but this door is the one the fae would look for me to be near,” she explained as she started to walk from Loki’s suite, her best friend at her side. Loki followed right beside her, not willing to risk her safety or risk losing her again.

She gave him a warm smile, recognizing his worry for what it was. “I’ll be fine, Lokes. I’m a whole lot stronger now than when we were kids,” she reminded him. She was a trained warrior and battle mage, plus she was a healer on top of it all. “I told you already that you either need allies or to be strong to survive the fae courts. And I had no allies,” she explained to him softly. Loki looked horrified at that realization. She’d had to fight every day of her life to survive. That was the absolute last thing he’d ever wanted for her when they were children.

“I am not willing to risk it. I just got you back, I do not wish to lose you again,”

“I know, love, which is why you’re coming along to help,” she replied as she walked. She clearly wasn’t considering her words before she spoke since she just called him ‘love’. Oops. “You just don’t have to be quite so worried,” she added with a smirk.

He gave her a matching smirk. “True. You do seem pretty formidable. Maybe I can challenge you to a duel when we finish our little mission?”

She grinned at him, offering a joking challenge. “Think you can handle it, Trickster?” she teased. She noticed that people were staring as they walked, but this time it was clear they were wondering why Loki was in armor more than anything else.

Loki chuckled. “I should be the one asking you that,” he replied. He was obviously confident in his abilities.

She laughed in reply. “You’re on,” she teased. She knew she’d beat him hands down. Hopefully, he figured that out before he challenged her for real. She mourned for his soul if he didn’t. Though a simple sparring match was safe enough. She wouldn’t really hurt him. “What do she know about underhill?” she asked as they made it to the forest. She remembered the way to the door to Underhill well, now that she was remembering things from the past. She knew the path, she knew what herbs they’d been going to fetch that day. She’d replayed the day thousands of times in her very long life, though she’d forgotten the pieces about the princes.

“Just that it’s the realm of the fairies. Besides that, I know little else,” he admitted.

She nodded and chatted conversationally as they walked through the woods together. “It’s the realm of the fae, home to the two fae courts. It’s not like the other realms that can be connected by bifrost, though. It can only be accessed by magic doorways and exists between the realms. It’s kind of like Valhalla. It can be accessed from any realm, but only if one knows the way. In the case of Valhalla, it’s dying a warriors death and it’s better to have a guide of a Valkyrie. In the case of Underhill, it’s entering through one of the magic doorways and it’s much better to have the guide of a fae,” she explained.

Loki took in her words and looked interested. “Good to know,” he commented, clearly mulling over what she’d said and explained to him. He seemed curious and like he’d be doing more studying to understand Sig and the people she’d had to live with. Plus the fae were interesting to those who weren’t fae. They were mysterious and deadly.

“Can you feel it?” Sig asked Loki when they reached the doorway near the patch of herbs. Frigga favored this particular patch as they had strong healing herbs in it. She felt the doorway as they approached, but she knew the feel of underhill. She saw Loki look around and his gaze seemed to land on the doorway, but she could see that he couldn’t see more than a ripple in his vision. They could both feel the power that radiated from the doorway, that came in from Underhill. She saw him working at it and took his hand in hers, sharing power with him through the soulbond. The lines of power on her arms lit up as she did.

She saw his eyes widen as the doorway appeared clearly in front of him. “Now that’s impressive,” he commented as he stared at the door between the realms.

She nodded. “That is one of the many many doorways to Underhill. I’d be willing to take you to see it sometime, but not through this doorway. This one needs to be closed. It’s too near the palace,”

Loki nodded emphatically. He remembered the day she’d been taken well and wanted her safe. He wanted all of the palace children safe, but more importantly, he wanted Sig to be safe and she wouldn’t be safe with a doorway that close. “How can I help?” he asked, automatically jumping in to help her, no matter what it took or what he had to do.

“Unfortunately, you get the boring job of standing guard. It takes fae magic to close and seal one of the doorways,” she explained. It was more complicated than that, but he really couldn’t help with this more than standing guard. So he didn’t need to know all of the details.

“If you need anything else, I’ll be here.” Loki had thought that since they were soulbound he might be able to help more. He was wrong, but it was sweet that he cared enough to try.

Sig nodded and dropped his hand, breaking his ability to see the doorway clearly. Power shimmered around her as she stepped up to the doorway. She drew a smaller belt knife from its sheath and dragged it across her palm before Loki could figure out what she was doing and stop her. She couldn’t help wincing in pain as the blade cut into her skin.

Blood magic was illegal on Asgard. The royal family would forgive her for performing it, especially when they knew why.

She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together, getting blood on both of her palms. She spread her hands again and reached to the doorway. She grabbed the edges of the doorway and pulled on them, dragging the edges together, forcing the doorway closed. It finally vanished with a pop and the feeling of power coming from it vanished as well. She sagged in relief and power drain when it was done. Loki immediately felt the change in magical energy as well. “I assume it’s done?” he asked to confirm.

She nodded as the power shimmering around her faded away. “It’s done,”

Loki sighed in relief. “Thank the Norns. Shall we return to the palace? It’s almost time for dinner.” Sig nodded and summoned a roll of bandage to begin to wind around her bleeding hand. Loki took her hand in his before she could and raised her hand, pressing his lips against her palm. With that romantic gesture and a shimmer of green magic, the wound on her hand was healed. “Healing isn’t my specialty, but I can handle small things,” he told her warmly and she saw his caring gentle smile and recognized the sweet child he’d been in the man he’d become.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #nekoamamori #soulbonds and fairy dust #chapter 15

20 notes · View notes

nobody-wants-ice-cream · 4 years

Text

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 6, The Day That Wasn’t.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

Run Boy Run

Extra Ordinary

Man on the Moon

Number Five

Disclaimer: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

I would also like to add that normally you wouldn’t watch a show this way. I am purposefully looking for mistakes, easter eggs, and other things that we’re not supposed to notice. I am watching not with the goal of entertainment, but for analysis. So most of the things that I sin, I am seeing for the first time.

Also, no I can’t do better. I am in no way qualified to give this level of criticism about anything.

[Today we got the s2 release date!! I am so excited. To answer any questions about that, I will probably do a season 2 version of this a year after it comes out. Since some of my sins involve fandom and any fic tropes/theories we might come up with, I want to make sure that has time to happen.]

The Day that Wasn’t

Only Dave notices Klaus coming to Vietnam via briefcase. The flashing blue lights and loud “oof!” isn’t loud enough to wake anyone else up. +1

Cody Ray Thompson’s workout routine. -1

“Katz” isn’t a fandom thing! The dude that is yelling at all the soldiers and Klaus to get ready (some sort of commanding officer?) calls Dave “Katz”! -1

Klaus is so confused that he just puts the pants on without really questioning it. What the fuck was going on in Klaus’s head? +1

Where is Ben? +1

Right where I’m paused Klaus’s face is hilarious. “It was at this moment Klaus knew. He fucked up” -1

The Power of Boners is what keeps Klaus in the fucking Vietnam War. +1

For all future Dave sins, I am calling it The Power of Boners because Dave gets one line. As soon as the show corrects this and shows us why Dave was so wonderful, these remain sins. Sin for the show for not providing more Dave content. +1

Overly saturated forigen country cliche. +1

Seriously, why is Vietnam so orange? +1

The Doors. -1

This one shot in the foreground of the girl with white boots. I want those boots so badly. Costume people, where did you get them? Sin until I know, damnit! +1

Cool white boots are cool. -1

Klaus’s dance moves. -1

Klave. -1

Scene does not contain a lap dance. +1

Or any other indication that Dave and Klaus didn’t just make out once and decided to remain friends. Please give me more Klave content show. If anything, just to flesh out this character who motivates Klaus for half of the season. +1

Luther barges in on people in the bathroom. He has six siblings! Anyone with at least one sibling knows that barging in on people in bathrooms is a shitty move. Heh, shitty move, bathroom, get it? +1

Klaus’s face when Luther deadpans “the world’s ending in three days”. It’s the face of someone who completely forgot about that since he’s been in the 60s for ten months. -1

Also, the way Luther tells Klaus “the world’s ending in three days” is the same way I might tell my brother that it’s time for dinner. +1

“Five’s a little- [coo coo whistle]” Emmy Raver-Lampman kills this line. -1

Luther’s face when Allison asks “what did Five even see?” brings me so much joy. That is the look of complete panic. Love that. -1

Luther can’t lie for shit. Checks out. -1

Anyone with siblings can relate to Diego, Allison, and Klaus’s reaction to this bull. -1

The dramatic music leading into the little “we died” followed by a sip of coffee. Priceless. -1

Title umbrella scares the shit out of Klaus! -1

Comic power foreshadowing? Sin until we get answers. +1

Foreshadowing that Five is in HQ by sending orders that don’t follow the same format as the rest of the ones on the shoe. Fiveshaddowing? -1

Kate Walsh plays an excellent villain. Part of that evil demeanor is getting all up in Five’s personal bubble. This is the closest Five has been to someone in the entire show without any injury or being drunk. -1

The Handler is creepy. +2

Five makes demands after setting foot in the building for less than one minute. +1

The masks from the comics are on the wall in the briefcase room. -1

Based on the two agents we see in the briefcase room and Hazel and Cha Cha, the uniform of the commission assassin is a blue suit, yet all of Five’s are grey or black like management. Inconsistency. +1

Typewriters. I hate those things. +1

I think Aidan Gallagher forgot what he was doing in this scene. His expression doesn’t look like Five, it looks like some kid who is letting a math lecture wash over them. You could make the argument that Five is sort of letting this wash over him too, but I would call bullshit. Five knows how dangerous of a situation he’s in right now. He shouldn’t look this calm. +1

The Handler touching Five’s face. +3

Dot has the “i’m in danger” expression when meeting Five because Dot let Five live in hell for 45 years. Five also looks like he wants to kill her. Great acting, Patrice Goodman. -1

Five’s expression when Dot says “No hard feelings” brings me so much joy. And fear. -1

The Handler makes Five the teacher’s pet on his first day by calling him leadership material in front of his new coworkers. +1

Kate Walsh was temporarily directed by Tim Burton for this scene. +1

That weird look one of the commission management people gives Five once Five sits down and starts working. I don’t like it, I don’t like it! +1

The Hargreeves mansion looks really fucking chaotic on the roof. I don’t like it. +1

Leonard’s face at finally being allowed inside the Hargreeves mansion. Just the right dose of satisfied and creepy. Well done, John Magaro. -1

Leonard is raising so many red flags that he may as well be a stop sign. +1

Umbrella Academy action figures. Oh, Reggie. +1

Luther has to explain that everyone in the whole world dies and not just them. The Umbrella Academy School of Delayed Reactions due to Stupidity was too long of a name so Reggie shortened it to The Umbrella Academy. +1

Allison’s right, Vanya isn’t being fair. However, Allison isn’t specific about how Vanya is family but Leonard is not. Sin for both of them for being dumb as hell. +2

“I’m gonna go find Vanya” “There isn’t time, we need to figure out what causes the apocalypse” irony. +1

“Nuclear war” cited as one of the possible causes of the apocalypse. Comics fans, enjoy this sin off. -1

“But I’m thinking this is about the Moon, right?” well yeah, but not for the reasons you think. Foreshadowing the moon. -1

That creepy portrait of Five behind Diego. No, not the big one, the other one by the bar. What the fuck, Reggie? +1

Leonard steals the action figure of The Monocle (reggie for those who don’t know the comics), which symbolizes the way Leonard feels he is controlling the Academy through Vanya. -1

Leonard is creepy. +1

Ben doesn’t realize that Klaus is going through withdrawal despite seeing it the day before. Sure, Ben could have been more focused on the tourture, but because Ben points out Klaus’s withdrawal by name in Man on the Moon, we can assume he noticed and that this is a continuity error. +1

Vanya’s powers affecting the world around her as soon as she is a safe distance away from the academy because reasons. Seriously, there should have been at least something while she was confronting her siblings. Show plays fast and loose with the rules of Vanya’s powers. +1

“If you tie me up after.” “Come again?” Diego and Klaus have the most sibling like relationship on this entire show. -1

Klaus’s Diego impression. -1

Excessive use of the word “bro”. One sin for every time I have to hear it in this scene. +2

“Mr. Five”. Is Five’s first name “Number” or did he not give the Commission any other name? Does this imply that he doesn’t go by Five Hargreeves? +1

This is one of the few scenes where Aidan Gallagher no longer looks like Aidan Gallagher and instead looks like Five. Acting. -1

Dot is really trying to get murdered. Don’t engage the man you put through hell for almost fifty years, moron. +1

The Handler has nothing better to do than to stalk Five. Does this lady have a job or did she take the day off specifically for this? What was she doing in the tube room?+1

The origin of “deadly little thing” is fucking Gloria? Really, fandom? +1

Five is too good of an actor. I understand why Aidan Gallagher might make some of these choices as an actor but I don’t understand how a man who grew up alone in the apocalypse can act this well. +1

The Handler keeps singling Five out in front of his coworkers. +1

The Handler’s arm around Five’s shoulders. +1

Creepy dude is back. I’m not even going to try and look up this guy’s name, but the expression suggests something I don’t want to think about. +1

Creepy guy’s name is Herb. Of course it is. +1

The file Five picks up just has a smiley face inside of it, which suggests that the Handler put it there as a red herring. Nice touch, show. -1

Gender neutral bathrooms. -1

Five’s expression when the Handler continues talking to him as she is peeing. -1

The Handler talks to Five while peeing. Gross. +2

His expression when she starts coughing is so funny. -1

Rugae +1

The Handler peeks over the door of the bathroom stall. +10

Cha Cha says, “Sure, shoot” when Hazel asks if he can ask her a question. +1

Where did the gunshot come from if Cha Cha didn’t shoot Hazel? I get they’re using it to make us think that she did, but there is no other explanation for the noise. +1

Luther frantically searching for his moon research makes me very sad. +1

Also, I’m kind of bored with this episode at this point. It’s such a low episode with the only interesting parts that make me as excited as the last episode Number Five, being the Commission parts. Everything else is kind of boring. Pick up the pace, show. +1

Reggie is a dick to Luther. +7

Luther looks so lost and broken and sad. I’m sad. Fuck you, Reggie. +1

Why the fuck was Luther carrying an axe?? +2

And rope?? +2

When and where did Luther find the time and money to get the engraved gold locket for Allison? This interaction is so full of plot holes and stupidity. +1

However, Cameron Brodeur and Eden Cupid do well with this dumb writing. -1

Seriously, who wrote this scene? The fact that I can’t bring myself to care about what is going on right now says a lot. +1

Reggie jump scare. +1

Cliche record scratch. How did that happen? Did Luther or Allison bump into it? Sin for lack of clarity and for destroying a record. +1

“Fun and games are restricted to Saturdays between noon and half past noon” Reggie is a dick to his children. +7

Klaus and Diego bonding. Literally? -1

Ben is in this scene! -1

I forgot how weird the soundtrack is for this scene. It’s too ominous. Scoring is important. +1

“Dave must have been a very special person to put up with all your weird-ass shit.” -1

“He was kind and strong and vulnerable and beautiful” that’s great, show. Why don’t you show us that instead of having Klaus say it. Just once scene where Dave shows these qualities so that he’s a real person instead of someone created to drive Klaus’s storyline? Please? +1

I feel really bad for Ben in this scene. From Ben’s perspective, he wasn’t good enough to motivate Klaus to get sober, but this random guy was. Ben angst. +1

Also, Justin Min manages to convey this without any lines. Major props. That takes some serious skill. -2

Bro. +1

“Everyone I like is already dead”. Fridging. +1

I can’t tell if this is Ben walking away or if this is the transition between Diego and Klaus’s point of views. If this is meant to imply the pov switch, It would have been easier to have Ben disappear from the same spot. If it’s Ben walking away because he can’t take being told that he isn’t good enough to get sober for, Ben angst. Either way, it’s a sin. +1

“Aww shit! I need to pee.” Diego’s expression is amazing. -1

“If this [having powers] is even true, everything I know about myself would be different.” That is Vanya’s storyline in a nutshell. This line is really underrated. -1

All of Leonard’s lines point towards the book. All of them. Which makes total sense. -1

Vanya is starting to show more sass and personality because the pills are gone. I wish fanfic writers would explore this. Including myself, I am sinning fanfic writers for not taking into account how cool Vanya is without the meds. +1

“I’m sorry you got stuck with the ordinary one” See! +1

“Ordinary” This word keeps coming up. Probably because of the whole rumor situation that we’re not supposed to know about yet. Rewatches are fun. -1

“My life is so weird” “I like weird”. And if you weren’t such a colossal creep, Leonard/Harold, I would like you too. This line is super sweet. Sin for manipulation. +1

Ellen Page isn’t my girlfriend. Have you seen this scene recently? She looks so cute/hot/beautiful here. +1

No transition, just straight from Leonard and Vanya kissing to The Handler slurping her smoothie. It’s jarring. +1

I want to know why they decided that killing Archduke Ferdinand would start World War I. Noodle incident. +1

“I had a bad Twinkie in the apocalypse once. Kinda put me off desserts.” Yet you still ate the fluffernutter sandwich, Five? +1

The Handler’s office is really cool. Once again, set designers you win this one. -1

Why would Five go straight for a decade instead of a flavor? How does something taste like the 1950s before it tastes like a popular candy from the time for example? +1

The suit is blue like the rest of the time travel assassins have. This suggests a uniform that the Commission didn’t make Five wear before, and suggests a sort of power play. Details. -1

The Handler is a fucking creep. +1

“M26 grenades from the Vietnam war”. This is the comment that sparked the theory that the Commission killed Dave. I want answers. +1

The candy that tastes like the 50s is really chewy. Why is Five still chewing it? +1

The Handler gives Five a pistol and he doesn’t immediately shoot her, which suggests that the pistol is empty. So why was the grenade still operational if the other weapons were not? You would think she would make sure that the grenades couldn’t be used against her. +1

The Handler is a fucking creep. I think Aidan Gallagher was a little uncomfortable in this scene. The look in his eyes isn’t something you can fake. +1

Kate Walsh is an awesome actress. -1

Out of all the candies in the bowl, Five conveniently takes one that is an actual candy and one that is a tracker. +1

So I want to talk about Luther. I think the show did him a great disservice by setting up his story this way. Compared to the Commission stuff, Luther’s story arc doesn’t seem important, hence the “Dad sent me to the Moon” jokes. If this was in a better order, then maybe the fandom would like Luther more. Not that I know what that order should have been, but it definitely shouldn’t have been this one. This whole episode seems kind of disorganized and Luther’s character suffers for it. After this sin, I’m going to shut up about it, so I’ll just add a few and move on. +5

“Four years of my life. A lie” “What an asshole” That’s a bit of an understatement, Allison. Seriously, this Moon research has got to have some value to it. Luther was studying the moon for four fucking years. Who knows what kind of crazy shit he could have found out about the moon’s atmosphere and what the Earth was like when the moon split from it. Those soil samples would tell us a lot about what the developing planet Earth was like. Luther’s moon research is important scientific material. And Reggie just locked it away. +3

This scene is excellent independently. Tom Hopper and Emmy Raver-Lampman play off each other extremely well. -1

“Can I show you something?” +1

The tools in the greenhouse have not moved in seventeen years. +1

And neither has the dust free record player. +1

Two cans of generic cola from seventeen years ago. And these two morons drink them. The family brain cell is dying. +1

This is such a sibling moment. Trying to do something nice and then it all goes up in flames? Sibling. Culture. -1

You know what isn’t sibling culture? The fucking locket. +3

This is a really human moment for Cha Cha. Burning the note shows that deep down, she cares about Hazel. -1

However, I don’t understand why she’s so pissed about Agnes. Is the show trying to ship Hazel and Cha Cha? Because that would be a stretch and I really don’t see it. +1

Klaus asking for one last hit is believable. Diego’s reaction is really good too. Well done. -1

Klaus’s ptsd. Putting my boy through trauma. +1

The wound on Dave’s chest has to be an exit wound. He was behind the barrier, so there’s no way he could have been shot from the front by the enemy. Someone (like a Commission agent) shot him from the back. So I guess we sort of got answers? I’m going to sin this until we know for sure. +1

Klaus is distraught. My poor boy. +1

Why is the chandelier still on the ground? You would think somebody would have attempted to pick that up at this point, right? It’s been two days. +1

Grace’s more relaxed hairstyle shows that she isn’t under Reggie’s strict control anymore. The tight pin curls are now replaced by gorgeous waves. Symbolism, well done hair stylist. -1

Grace lies because Pogo is standing behind Diego. Otherwise, I think she would have told him the truth right then and there. Secrets. +1

Yo, @ Luther. Who the fuck eats a hot dog like that? +1

Also, it was bright daylight when Diego was talking to Grace and now it’s pitch black out. What happened in those hours? +1

Talking about their regrets, Allison says “we can’t go back”. Insert every season 2 headcanon and the whole “Where are they?” tag line from the season 2 promos. +1

Allison attempts to see the silver lining of child abuse. This works and is a valid coping mechanism that I think is totally in character. Well done, writers. -1

The kiss on the cheek is very “this is the last time I will see my sibling whom I love very dearly and who also loves me for me”. This should have been it for Allison and Luther kissing because it’s a really good moment. -1

I love the dancing in the moonlight scene because it’s a reference to something from the comics. -1

The choreography is really, really good. Emma Portner fucking rules. -1

And I love the earrings that Allison is wearing. No joke, someone please tell me where I can find them, they’re adorable and I would love to have them. -1

However, the show made us see two sibling characters kiss. In a very romantic way. +15

And it’s very clear that this kiss happens outside of the fantasy too. +15

Also, without the lights and the music, were Allison and Luther just two weirdos dancing in the park to nothing? +1

The transition to get back to the Commission is really good. -1

“Gloria. The Handler knows that Five is up to something. Get this to Hazel and Cha Cha immediately.” Was the extra info about Five necessary? I feel like a regular person wouldn’t say that. +1

Gloria doesn’t know who the second best assassins are. +1

Five gets that stapler out of nowhere. This goes back to his unexplained power from episode 1, but now the question is: Is this switching power stapler based? +1

Five’s expression when he finally gets the name of the man who will cause the apocalypse. -1

And now we know the origin of the terminate Hazel message. Five, you clever bastard. -1

Did we see the terminate Cha Cha message before this? I can’t remember. If we didn’t then it’s a great reveal. If we did, then I didn’t care enough to pay attention. [I looked back] We didn’t. Great reveal. -1

Five, hide your bodies better so they don’t start waking up for comedic timing. +1

The comedic timing of Gloria waking back up. -1

“You’re a first rate pragmatist!” no he’s not. Have you been paying attention to Five’s character at all, Handler? If he was, then he never would have broken his contract because he was safe in the Commission.+1

Also, this is what a lot of fanfic writers base Five off of. Not his actual character, this fucking line. Sin for the fandom. +1

Why did they have to split up this scene? The Handler just attempted to shoot Five and now we’re supposed to care about Mom and Diego?? +1

Grace finally gets to tell the truth! Sin for Pogo and Reggie for forcing her to lie. +1

The truth. -1

The Commission desk people do care about Gloria. Caring. -1

Vanya finding Reggies book. This could have been the original trigger to the apocalypse in the first timeline. I want answers. How did it go down originally? +1

Dave! -1

“I do owe a debt. But it’s not to you.” This is one of those lines that will be referenced in a future season. “See, [this character and/or relationship] was referenced in season 1” or something like that. This is my favorite Five line, too. -2

Five once again stands too close to an explosion. Fuckin’ run, dude! +1

The ending of this episode reminds me of the “and it was all just a dream” ending that 5th graders write. Nothing in this episode has any consequences. +3

And I am adding back the sins I took off and then some for the important bits like Diego and Klaus bonding, Grace telling Diego all the secrets, and Klaus seeing Dave. +4

Wednesday. 8:15 A.M. (...again). The time stamp is pretty good though. -1

“What gives us a win this time?” And then Five appears. -1

Five snatches Allison’s coffee. And he should be bleeding from the shrapnel wound. +2

Allison’s face when Five snatches her coffee. -1

Diego, Luther, Klaus, and Allison are all watching Five stumble weird and chug Allison’s coffee with the funniest expressions. I want to know what they were thinking. Ya know, beyond “What the Fuck?”. +1

Those expressions, though. -1

“So if y’all don’t get your sideshow acts together” Five this whole season has been you saving the world and everyone else as a sideshow act. That’s gonna take a lot more effort than saving the world. +1

Aidan Gallagher fucking nails this scene. Expletive required. This is why I respect him as an actor. This scene would have been so easy to over act, but he kills this monologue. -5

If you look closely at Five’s hair, it looks sort of like the triangular shape from the comics. I can’t tell if that was intentional, but it was a good detail. Hair department. -1

“Who the hell is Harold Jenkins” followed by a coffee slurp. That is how they end the episode? Really? It would have been stronger without the coffee. +1

Season 2 comes out on July 31, 2020! I got the announcement just as I was finishing this episode! I’ll take off a sin because we finally know! Whoop!! -1

Overall review:

After the powerhouse that is episode 5, this episode feels odd and out of place. My favorite parts were the Commission parts, and everything else felt like an interruption. Even more so when you consider that the commission parts are the only parts of the episode that actually happened. Sure, it’s great character building, but without any consequences, it feels cheap. I feel like I’ve said everything I needed to say, so I won’t get crazy with the analysis. I would say more if anything in this episode actually mattered.

Total: 112

Sentence: The Umbrella Academy of Reacting to things Slowly due to Stupidity. Say that 10 times fast. Then I will undo all your hard work through the power of time travel. Seriously, fuck this ending.

#The Umbrella Academy #all in good fun #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #dave katz #leonard peabody #harold jenkins #the handler #dot #gloria #the commission

63 notes · View notes

moonchildsaurora · 4 years

Text

The ex-Mercenary with the endearing dimples

»»—— Crew Member #5 of Space Pirates ATEEZ ——««

all aboard The Perihelion, welcome to the co-pilot’s log system! here you’ll be able to access the crew’s profiles should you wish to read about their journeys: (no nsfw content)

[CAPTAIN] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

“if you fall for those dimples, then you’re already half-way in the hunter’s trap”

only a handful of people actually know of his origins, and being a changeling sure comes with a lot of perks for his (previous) field of work

[database file: changelings are nomadic beings, and are able to shift both face and form at will. There are no official records of a changeling’s standard/normal form, and very rarely would anyone get a chance to witness it. Most changelings take on forms of existing beings, depending on the location they’re at and how much they want to blend in, some preferring to add their own artistic flair on appearance]

San’s hair changes almost as quickly as he changes his dagger blades, his current hair of a rich dark brown colour with a turf of silver that never seem to stop shimmering slightly – much like moon light. Which makes his Selenian [database file: moon/silver elves] form all that more convincing

he started his mercenary life on the planet Tundaoria, where all main networks of black markets and underground work are based at

young blood with no last name, a growing reputation – San is an all-round enigma. But he had a talent for tracking, deadly accuracy and disappearing without a trace, hence nobody questioned him other than for getting a job done

he used to work with a small group, ‘Windstriders’, known for their efficient timeframe and clean work. People pay for the quality, majority of the time San worked with others but sometimes he might pick up a few solo missions on the side

earned the nickname ‘Dimples’ from his ex-team mates however whilst he seems harmless on first glance, “the kid? Aye he’s one big sweetheart he is”, he’s learnt to use that highly skewed perception to his advantage

that’s to say he’s managed to coax beings either to bed for a night of pleasure or their deathbeds, talk about deadly charisma

“so on average, what are the chances of someone walking out of your room alive?”

San prides himself with maintaining a level of morality, and won’t kill unless it’s the specific target themselves and/or out of self-defence for any unfortunate souls who decide to intervene with his job. Has nothing against stealing or gambling because, “what’s living without taking a few risks?”

lowkey has a soft spot for younglings and became unexpectedly close to a particular orphanage in a town on the far northern-side of the planet. The head guardian (most orphanages are cared by a guardian or two) found San passed out nearby after a particularly tedious mission and took him in for healing. Since then that place had become an unofficial healer’s spot and safe house

the younglings absolutely adored having him visit, especially when “look, look! The Moon Prince is here!”, bearing gifts such as trinkets, new toys or aleagette pastries [database: assorted savoury or sweet pastry-type snacks that melt in the mouth when eaten, the surprise is that the flavour isn’t known until the first bite]. San would later on start contributing part of his earnings towards the upkeep of the orphanage as a repayment for the guardians’ hospitality (and it’s really for the younglings but he won’t admit that)

every time a youngling treats him to a toothy smile, a wild giggle or when the bolder ones would run up and wrap their petite arms around his legs his fondness grows exponentially. Once, a guardian caught him helping the younglings doodle whatever their hearts desired on themselves so they could match the many permanent silver ink patterns that decorated his arms and back

“already influencing the little ones with your ways, Sannie?” (another nickname that the younglings picked up on and would parrot it back)

“I’ll have you know what we’re doing here is called art”

the one time San was caught off guard was having a past target’s associate track him down to his safe space and carry out a revenge attack – “you took my family away from me and now I’m going to take yours”

San never fully recovered (the invisible wounds at least) for causing innocents to get caught up in the crossfire, for realising too late how attached he’s become to these people and their meaningful presence in his life

as a parting favour, the Windstriders helped San relocate the survivors of the orphanage far away to the much more peaceful city of Aeria (known as ‘City of Healing’ on the planet Cidestea). They said goodbye to a reliable comrade, to his old identity, to his previous lifestyle; mutually promising that contact will only be made again in a dire situation as a last resort – Dimples was off the radar for good

5 years later, after a successful loot haul The Perihelion stopped by Aeria for a re-fuel and mainly because Seonghwa wouldn’t miss an opportunity to stock up on his medicinal herbs (also adopting some new plant children). Hongjoong led his small crew after being directed by a local to “the best tea spot in town” which turned out to be ‘Mosaic Brews’ run by none other than San

now sporting a more turquoise shade of hair and a woodland elven appearance where once silver ink ran along his skin, now a bold black-brown. The younglings who decided to stick by him now have grown too, toughened up by life yet maintained their soft innocence under San’s care for the past years

curiously they stared in awe at Yunho and Mingi, clearly never seeing such giants (to them) before, the older ones enthusiastically brought out the multi-coloured teas for their new guests and the younger ones were spoiled by Seonghwa’s constant cooing. Hongjoong thought San was more than what met his eyes, the seemingly bright shop owner who’s dimples were on full display and heartily conversed with the young captain still had a guarded air around him

it wasn’t until Yunho and Seonghwa gave a few Urousbaines (with captain’s approval of course, one does not just hand out rarities for free) from their loot to the younglings and San’s nonchalant reaction that got Hongjoong’s eyes sparkling

“don’t worry little one, the flower isn’t frozen, here pass me that water bowl.” and the younglings are still convinced till this day that San is some intergalactic prince with magical powers. Because right in front of their eyes the supposedly frozen flower bloomed and the sunlight refracted off its crystal-like petals, casting a spectrum of colours to fill the small shop

“oh how wondrous! How did you know to do that?” (…and San has left the chat)

A LOT of convincing was needed to get San to hear Hongjoong out (by now the crew knew what their captain wants, he gets) and only after tucking the younglings in for the evening in their rooms on the upper level of the shop did the serious talk start

San swore to leave that life behind but he would be kidding himself if he said he didn’t feel a slight tug at his heart for adventure, yet again. It was a tug-of-war between what the head knows vs. what the heart yearns for

“But Sannie how are you going to save the galaxy if you’re stuck here?” came the soft-spoken voice of the youngest and the group nearly had whiplash turning around. The younglings had snuck downstairs and listened in on the convo, knowing it’ll be sad to part with San but even sadder for him to purposely hold back

the younglings won the debate, that they weren’t naïve nor helpless anymore and together they could take care of themselves and the shop – after all they’ve only learnt from the best (San did notify some of the locals whom were trusted regulars of his temporary leave and to keep an eye on the younglings in his stead)

Yunho offered a communication bot to keep in touch so San could check-in whenever he wished, the younglings were fascinated as the Sheirzoi showed them how to work it and a chorus of “oohs” and “ahhs” were heard when they saw the main deck of the ship through the screen. At present, he made sure to check-in at least once every week, all smiles & dimples when he sees the little ones’ faces squeezed into the single screen

San held onto the younglings right up until he boarded The Perihelion, and making sure to wave back until they were right out of sight. He packed simply but made sure to put up some of the drawings the younger ones gifted him up on his room’s walls and the ‘lucky charm’ that got braided into his hair was worn proudly (the older kids had woven a band with colourful beads & crystallised Echetta wings they found in the garden – from the ‘lucky butterfly’)

the crew reminded him of his old team, how they looked out for one another despite not being blood-related but nevertheless a family of sorts. Eventually everyone found out of his changeling abilities after he nearly gave them a heart attack, “SAN! YOU’RE PURPLE…WHY IS YOUR SKIN PURPLE?!”

Hongjoong never dug too deep into San’s past but was very grateful and appreciative of his fighting skills, thus made him in charge of training the others to be able to defend themselves at least. Cue strict combat trainer San to pop out (Yeosang adds a new curse word to his vocab list after every lesson)

they’ve seen his lethal side where he went on a rampage after Seonghwa got shot

Is probably the only one Jongho trusts to trial his new weapons without blowing something or someone up accidentally

argues with the hot-headed Wooyoung frequently that sometimes Seonghwa has to put them in time-out, initially was legit arguments but now it’s more with an affectionate undertone

Hongjoong and Seonghwa nearly gave him ‘the space dad & mum talk’ after, “bloody hell did you get attacked or something?” upon seeing an array of purple-pink marks across San’s neck when he came stumbling back to the ship just near dawn. The faint scent of perfume lingering and tousled hair gave away that much. “At least leave us a message if not we’re sending the precious cargo retrieval brigade next time”

recently adopted a Kiatrafel [database file: small winged feline-like creature that can spit fire], he calls her “my girl” and is in the midst of training it to not mark its territory everywhere (including on people)

“SAN! Your hellcat just pissed on Hongjoong...again and coughed up flames on Yunho’s notes. Captain says if you don’t come within 5 seconds he’s throwing her down the chute”

(moodboard made with love, by @s1ardusk ♡)

#ateez scenarios #ateez headcanons #atzinc #pirate ateez #pirate ateez au #ateez au #ateez imagines #choi san #ateez san #ateez blurbs #ateez drabbles #ateez fic #ateez writing #Perihelion Crew #pyx writes #atinyforatiny

52 notes · View notes

spn-meanttobe · 4 years

Photo

Summaries Part Two [51-100]

Claiming Info -- FAQs/Rules The first Claims post will be a separate post going up on Saturday, November 7th at 12 pm EST. The second Claims post will be a separate post going up on Sunday, November 8th at 12 pm EST.

51. My Only Vice She's as pretty as a daisy... Sexy, easygoing Rosie Bliss may look like an innocent flower-shop owner, but former vice cop now police chief Sam Maguire is suspicious of the so-called herbs she grows along with her blooms. As sweet as a rose... So the serious detective launches an investigation into Rosie and her very mysterious past. But his most disturbing discovery? He's irresistibly attracted to free-spirited Rosie. And as dangerous as a Venus flytrap! Then cool, controlled Sam accidentally drinks a cup of her special brew and loses it completely! Not only does he end up sleeping with his suspect, he craves more – of Rosie, the most potent drug of all.

52. Night Shadow In a city ruled by fear... A solitary figure shrouded in black walked the night, determined to awaken a terrified metropolis from the nightmare of crime. There was nothing -- no bullets, and certainly not legal technicalities -- that could deter the man they called Nemesis from his mission. Deborah O'Roarke, an idealistic young prosecutor waging her own war against crime, owed Nemesis her very life. She shared his passion for justice, yet she could not accept his lawless methods. Still, though she fought her unwelcome desire for this disturbing stranger, she was unable to deny her longing to share the shadows that were his home.... After the night he saved Deborah O'Roarke from an attacker Nemesis rediscovered the sweet ache of longing. As Gage Guthrie he could woo her. But the idealistic prosecutor abhorred his vigilante approach to crime fighting. So how could he reveal he was the phantom who lurked in the Night Shadow? Fear casts a long shadow....

53. Night Shift Her voice was like whiskey, smooth and potent, but it was her contradictions that fascinated Detective Boyd Fletcher―the vulnerability beneath her tough-as-nails facade. Late-night radio announcer Cilla O'Roarke was being threatened by a caller, and it was Boyd's job to protect her no matter what. But the sultry deejay was getting under his skin, and the undeniable attraction that sizzled between them concerned the detective…because anything could happen on the Night Shift.

54. No Good Duke Goes Unpunished The ruin of the lady means the taming of the scoundrel. A rogue ruined... He is the Killer Duke, accused of murdering Mara Lowe on the eve of her wedding. With no memory of that fateful night, Temple has reigned over the darkest of London's corners for twelve years, wealthy and powerful, but beyond redemption. Until one night, Mara resurfaces, offering the one thing he's dreamed of: absolution. A lady returned... Mara planned never to return to the world from which she'd run, but when her brother falls deep into debt at Temple's exclusive casino, she has no choice but to offer Temple a trade that ends in her returning to society and proving to the world what only she knows...that he is no killer. A scandal revealed... It's a fine trade, until Temple realizes that the lady--and her past--are more than they seem. It will take every bit of his strength to resist the pull of this mysterious, maddening woman who seems willing to risk everything for honor... and to keep from putting himself on the line for love.

55. Once Smitten, Twice Shy Legend claims this antique Irish wedding veil can grant your heart's deepest desire. But be careful what you wish for... Wedding videographer Tish Gallagher is at the end of her rope. Her business is about to go bust. She's just spent her last buck on nonreturnable (but oh so fabulous) shoes. And her most sustainable relationship is with a pint of Häagen-Dazs. So she makes a wish on the lucky wedding veil to get out of debt...and sees the man she never stopped loving, her ex-husband, secret service agent Shane Tremont. Sure, their chemistry was off-the-charts sizzling hot, but their clashes were legendary, and no amount of longing will change that. When her dream job of recording the first daughter's wedding appears out of the blue, Tish knows it's her only shot to get out of the red. Just one teensy glitch: Shane is the groom. From the moment they see each other, she knows nothing's changed - the same old black magic is still between them, as irresistible and potent as ever. But he's promised to another and Tish has been burned before. Will she always be... once smitten, twice shy?

56. One Night with Morelli Warning: one night will never be enough… Draco Morelli: ruthless businessman, adoring father and wary ex-husband. This gorgeous Italian only ever signs up for temporary flings with glamorous women who know the rules of the game. Until he is blindsided by the one woman in all of London not interested in a relationship with him…. Eve Curtis: dedicated workaholic, loyal friend and self-professed singleton. Determined to remain independent, Eve has been happy keeping men at a safe distance. Until now. Because when Draco sweeps her off her feet and into his bedroom, he opens her eyes to a whole new world of sin and seduction!

57. One Night with the Shifter A one-night stand with a werewolf has unexpected consequences. After he is exiled from his pack, Tyee Grayson must learn to make it on his own. But one night with a beautiful stranger who has luminous blue eyes changes everything…. Especially when his instincts shout that she is the one. All elementary school teacher Jessica Brierly wanted was a night on the wild side, but when she finds herself pregnant, all the rules change. Not only does her lover have more secrets than she ever imagined, but suddenly they're both fighting off vampires. When vampires attack the town she dearly loves, Ty must work with his old pack to save them from a ruthless enemy who could kill not only his mate and his unborn child – but the entire human race.

58. One Texas Night Melinda Amery awoke to the double-barreled deep blue eyes of Lieutenant Grady Sloan. A more formidable – or handsome – man she'd never seen. And he wanted answers about a murder. Only, Melinda had none. She had no recall, except she knew nothing good would come from remembering... Grady was the kind of cop who wouldn't let go until he got what he wanted. With his job on the line, he needed to break the case. But the only witness had amnesia – and tormented dark eyes that needed healing. And Grady couldn't help his overwhelming attraction toward Melinda. But would her hidden memories reveal more than either of them wanted to know... ?

59. Pushing the Limits No one knows what happened the night Echo Emerson went from popular girl with jock boyfriend to gossiped-about outsider with "freaky" scars on her arms. Even Echo can't remember the whole truth of that horrible night. All she knows is that she wants everything to go back to normal. But when Noah Hutchins, the smoking-hot, girl-using loner in the black leather jacket, explodes into her life with his tough attitude and surprising understanding, Echo's world shifts in ways she could never have imagined. They should have nothing in common. And with the secrets they both keep, being together is pretty much impossible. Yet the crazy attraction between them refuses to go away. And Echo has to ask herself just how far they can push the limits and what she'll risk for the one guy who might teach her how to love again.

60. Red, White & Royal Blue When his mother became President, Alex Claremont-Diaz was promptly cast as the American equivalent of a young royal. Handsome, charismatic, genius—his image is pure millennial-marketing gold for the White House. There's only one problem: Alex has a beef with the actual prince, Henry, across the pond. And when the tabloids get hold of a photo involving an Alex-Henry altercation, U.S./British relations take a turn for the worse. Heads of family, state, and other handlers devise a plan for damage control: staging a truce between the two rivals. What at first begins as a fake, Instagrammable friendship grows deeper, and more dangerous, than either Alex or Henry could have imagined. Soon Alex finds himself hurtling into a secret romance with a surprisingly unstuffy Henry that could derail the campaign and upend two nations and begs the question: Can love save the world after all? Where do we find the courage, and the power, to be the people we are meant to be? And how can we learn to let our true colors shine through? Red, White & Royal Blue proves true love isn't always diplomatic.

61. Renegade Protector When intimidation turns to deadly force, it's time for Frontier Justice. If ruthless developers want Mariana Balducci's land, they'll have to kill her for it. And they nearly succeed—until Ty Morrison foils her attacker. The sexy San Francisco cop is part of a secret organization called Frontier Justice. Mariana is tough, but she realizes she can't win this fight alone. And when bullets fly, Ty realizes battling bad guys is easier than fighting their sizzling attraction.

62. Rocky Mountain Wedding Melody Pennington fled to Montana for a new start as a mail-order bride. Gabe Brooks, handsome older brother to the man she was supposed to marry, helps her settle in. But what Melody doesn't expect is to fall for the rugged, closed-off lawman...

63. Romancing the Chef When Veronica Howard is invited to compete in an all-star TV cooking contest, the up-and-coming restaurateur is ready for a fair food fight. Then she discovers who her main competition is: Ace Brown, her friend from culinary school – now the world's hottest celebrity chef. Has she gone from the frying pan right into the fire? Ace Brown – aka the Sexy Chef – knows what women want. After all, recipes for desire are his globe-trotting specialty. Ronnie may not have given him the time of day back in school, but this time Ace is cooking up a surprise she can't resist. Seducing the voluptuous foodie will be his pleasure…until she turns up the heat. With sexual sparks flying, is the footloose bachelor about to become a connoisseur…of love?

64. Rumors that Ruined a Lady Amongst the gossip-hungry ton, no name has become more synonymous with sin than that of Lady Caroline Rider, cast out by her husband and disowned by her family. Rumor has it that the infamous Caro is now seeking oblivion in the opium dens of London! There's only one man who can save her: notorious rake Sebastian Conway, Marquis of Ardhallow. Soon Caro is installed in his country home, warming his bed, but their passion may not be enough to protect them once news of their scandalous arrangement breaks out.

65. Secrets of a Gentleman Escort He's the talk of the ton – for all the wrong reasons! Society's most outrageous – and popular! – escort Nicholas D'Arcy is renowned for his utmost discretion. So when he suddenly finds himself named and shamed by a jealous husband, he reluctantly accepts a summons to the countryside…a fate worse than death! Annorah Price-Ellis isn't what Nick is used to – innocent, feisty and decidedly uncomfortable with the spontaneous heat between them! Suddenly, London's most audacious lover is out of his depth, and in danger of revealing the real man behind the polished facade….

66. Seduced by the Operative For psychologist Claire Cantwell--code name Cyrene--the stakes couldn't be higher. Tapped for a top-secret mission for the president, the OMEGA covert operative needed the unique expertise of a man with whom she'd shared danger--and her bed. Lethally attractive special ops agent and ultra-suave diplomat Luis Esteban wanted more than Claire was ready to give. Now, with their very survival at stake, Claire has to trust Luis with her life... even if that means surrendering the one thing she vowed never to give: her heart.

67. Serendipity Faith Harrington was the classic girl of privilege - until her father was convicted of running a Ponzi scheme and then her marriage crashed and burned. Now Faith is back in her hometown, hoping for a fresh start. But her father's betrayal has rocked Serendipity - and not everyone is ready to welcome her with open arms. Then she runs into her teenage crush - the dark, brooding Ethan Barron. Ethan, no stranger to scandal himself, never imagined he'd own the mansion on the hill, much less ever again come face-to-face with Faith - the princess he once kissed senseless. The chance meeting reignites the electric charge between them. Still, when Ethan hires her to redecorate what was once her childhood home, Faith is sure that getting involved with the town's notorious bad boy will lead only to trouble. But her heart has other ideas. And so do the townspeople of Serendipity...

68. Shades of Desire Natalie Jones is the lucky survivor of an elusive killer who preys on young women and then disappears from view. And since her harrowing ordeal, the once gutsy photojournalist has remained isolated in her home, paralyzed by fear and her failing vision. Special Agent Liam "Mac" McKenzie has scars of his own. But despite his efforts to ignore the attraction that simmers between him and Natalie, he needs her help to catch a predator. Soon, they will forge a tentative alliance, charged with desire. Through a soft-focus lens, Natalie dares to envision a future with Mac beyond the investigation & never guessing that the clues hidden within her photographs are drawing them into an explosive confrontation with a madman.

69. She's Got it Bad Twelve years ago Zoe Ford let Liam Masters break her heart. But now? There's not a chance. Zoe is as tough and wild as they come. So when Liam shows up at her tattoo parlor, she's more than ready to take him on again. That's not going to be a hardship, since he's hotter than he ever was. This time she's staying in charge. And she's not going to consider their score settled until he's hot, bothered and begging for more! Then she'll move on as callously as he left her. Unless all that deliciously bad sex is just too good to give up….

70. Snowbound with the Soldier Maybe this Christmas…? It has been seven long years since Kara Jameson last saw Jason Greene. Returning home as a wounded war hero, Jason looks a shell of the man she once knew. Yet her heart still skips a beat as if it was yesterday…. Stepping back into civilian life, Jason looks to Kara for help. But there's too much water under the bridge – not to mention too much lingering attraction. But it seems that the mountain weather has other ideas, and when Kara and Jason end up snowbound together they are forced to confront the ghosts of Christmas past.

71. Soldier Caged

He'd lost blood and comrades on the world's battlefields, but neither compared to losing his memory. Waking up in a secret military bunker, drugged, with vague images of a mission gone bad, Jonah had nowhere to turn. Until help came in the form of the one woman he'd always remember... Psychologist Sophia Rhodes never got over the bad boy who'd stolen her good-girl heart a decade ago. But without military training, how could she possibly steal Jonah from a high-security facility? She had only one hope--that he'd never forgotten her, either. Sophia knew the breakout was the easy part. Somehow she had to help Jonah focus his hazy images--before a desperate man made sure he'd never remember...

72. Sound Bites Renee Evans has a knack for trouble. After walking in on her best friend and boyfriend in bed together, twenty-five-year-old Renee flees her dream job as a music journalist in sunny Los Angeles and returns to her hometown of Boston – only to meet Dylan Cavallari, the mysterious, aspiring musician who lives in her apartment building. Dylan's piercing gaze and womanizing demeanor make him exactly the type of guy that Renee should steer clear of – which is most likely the reason she falls for him. But when Renee's troublesome ex comes back and threatens to drive her and Dylan apart, Renee is forced to face her past and save her relationship with Dylan before it's too late.

73. Succubus Blues When it comes to jobs in hell, being a succubus seems pretty glamorous. A girl can be anything she wants, the wardrobe is killer, and mortal men will do anything just for a touch. Granted, they often pay with their souls, but why get technical? But Seattle succubus Georgina Kincaid's life is far less exotic. Her boss is a middle-management demon with a thing for John Cusack movies. Her immortal best friends haven't stopped teasing her about the time she shape-shifted into the Demon Goddess getup complete with whip and wings. And she can't have a decent date without sucking away part of the guy's life. At least there's her day job at a local bookstore--free books; all the white chocolate mochas she can drink; and easy access to bestselling, sexy writer, Seth Mortensen, aka He Whom She Would Give Anything to Touch but Can't. But dreaming about Seth will have to wait. Something wicked is at work in Seattle's demon underground. And for once, all of her hot charms and drop-dead one-liners won't help because Georgina's about to discover there are some creatures out there that both heaven and hell want to deny...

74. Tell Me Your Secrets It was a dark and sexy night... And Brooke Ashby knew she was in over her head. As head writer for the soap opera Secrets, she was used to living vicariously through her characters. But that all changed the day she learned she was adopted, and that her identical twin sister had mysteriously disappeared. What else could she do but try to discover what had happened, even if it meant taking her sister's place? It shouldn't be hard. After all, she was good at research and had a talent for acting, if she did say so herself. Her plan seemed foolproof…until Brooke found herself in bed with her sister's fiancé….

75. Temptation's Kiss Patrice Sutton has just landed the role of her career. Snagging the female lead opposite devastatingly handsome, six-foot-three movie idol T. K. McKenna is a dream come true. When she learns they'll be filming out West she's secretly thrilled…and ready to show her gorgeous co-star the ropes of life on the ranch. Until T.K. turns the tables – by initiating her into the art of seduction far from the camera's glare. T.K. knows that with her incredible beauty, talent and sweet sincerity, Patrice has what it takes to make it really big. And the burgeoning film star is showing T.K. a passion more real than anything he's ever experienced on – or off – the screen. But what will it take to prove to her that she's the only woman he'll ever desire…and love?

76. Texas Mom Texas veterinarian Delaney Blair will do anything to find a bone marrow donor for her four-year-old son, Nickolas. The only likely match is his Argentinean father, Dario. But Dario and Delaney didn't part on good terms. In fact, he doesn't even know he has a son! Delaney travels to Argentina to find him, and Dario, shocked, returns to Texas. It's not long before Nick and Dario become close. Not only that, Dario can't hide the feelings he has for Delaney – feelings that have been there since they met. Dario's family doesn't want him to be with her. But now they have to see if the love between them is strong enough to keep them together.

77. The Cajun Cowboy Talk about a bad hair day! Louisiana beauty salon owner Charmaine LeDeux has a loan shark on her tail, and Raoul Lanier, the six-foot-three hunk of testosterone she thought she divorced, has just delivered a bombshell: They're still married! At least the rundown ranch they've inherited together is the perfect hideout. Holy crawfish! It's hard enough for Raoul to play cowboy to a bunch of scrawny steer, let alone suffer the exquisite torture of living with the delectable Charmaine, who's declared herself a born-again virgin. What's a man crazy with desire to do? Seduce her on their home on the range, even if it means taking advice from bachelor ranch hands, Charmaine's belly-dancing great-aunt, and St. Jude, patron saint of lost causes. With the moon shining over the bayou and the Dixie Mafia in hot pursuit, this Cajun cowboy must sweet-talk his way into his wife's arms again...before she unties the knot for good!

78. The Happy Baker We've all been there. The blind date from hell. The Big Hurt. The guy who details his various surgeries over Caesar salad on the first date. Who needs a pint of rocky road when you can head to the kitchen and work out your heartache with a whisk and a bottle of wine? Erin Bolger has been there, dated that and baked through it all. Turns out the more bitter the heartbreak, the sweeter the batter. So don't cry over bad dates, bad boyfriends or bad breakups – whip up a batch of My-Mom-Didn't-Like-You-Anyway Cupcakes and bake yourself happy.

79. The Heist FBI Special Agent Kate O'Hare is known for her fierce dedication and discipline on the job, chasing down the world's most wanted criminals and putting them behind bars. Her boss thinks she is tenacious and ambitious; her friends think she is tough, stubborn, and maybe even a bit obsessed. And while Kate has made quite a name for herself for the past five years the only name she's cared about is Nicolas Fox -- an international crook she wants in more ways than one. Audacious, handsome, and dangerously charming, Nicolas Fox is a natural con man, notorious for running elaborate scams on very high-profile people. At first he did it for the money. Now he does it for the thrill. He knows that the FBI has been hot on his trail -- particularly Kate O'Hare, who has been watching his every move. For Nick, there's no greater rush than being pursued by a beautiful woman... even one who aims to lock him up. But just when it seems that Nicolas Fox has been captured for good, he pulls off his greatest con of all: He convinces the FBI to offer him a job, working side by side with Special Agent Kate O'Hare. Problem is, teaming up to stop a corrupt investment banker who's hiding on a private island in Indonesia is going to test O'Hare's patience and Fox's skill. Not to mention the skills of their ragtag team made up of flamboyant actors, wanted wheelmen, and Kate's dad. High-speed chases, pirates, and Toblerone bars are all in a day's work... if O'Hare and Fox don't kill each other first.

80. The Inn at Eagle Point It's been years since Abby O'Brien Winters set foot in Chesapeake Shores. The Maryland town her father built has too many sad memories and Abby too few spare moments, thanks to her demanding Wall Street career, the crumbling of her marriage and energetic twin daughters. Then one panicked phone call from her youngest sister brings her racing back home to protect Jess's dream of renovating the charming Inn at Eagle Point. But saving the inn from foreclosure means dealing not only with her own fractured family, but also with Trace Riley, the man Abby left ten years ago. Trace can be a roadblock to her plans...or proof that second chances happen in the most unexpected ways.

81. The Klone and I After thirteen years of marriage and two kids, Stephanie was devastated when her husband left her for a younger woman. Suddenly she was alone. Then a spur-of-the-moment trip to Paris changed everything. Peter Baker was a handsome high-tech entrepreneur also visiting the city. Stephanie was certain it couldn't possibly work. But much to her amazement, he contacted her when they returned to New York. And Stephanie embarked on a bizarre and hilarious adventure beyond her wildest dreams. Shy, serious Peter, chairman of a bionic enterprise, was supposed to be away on business. Instead, he's standing at her door, wearing satin and rhinestones. Naturally, Stephanie thinks it's a joke -- until the truth suddenly dawns: this isn't Peter playing a role. This is his double! Calling himself Paul Klone, this wild, uninhibited creature isn't even remotely like Peter except for his identically sexy good looks. This uproarious novel explores the outrageous love triangle that develops between Stephanie, Peter... and The Klone.

82. The Man from Atlantis These days, eligible, attractive, single men weren't exactly coming out of the woodwork! So when Jenna stumbled across a gorgeous male specimen, she couldn't let a mere ten-thousand-year age difference interfere with romance! Besides, everyone knows older men are sexy!

83. The Man With Emerald Eyes A victim of her brother's gambling debts, lovely Theone Danvers had been left to choose between the hell of debtor's prison - and the lecherous arms of the Marquis de Juliers. But Theone was a fiery beauty with a mind of her own. Disguised as a lad, she took to the highroad with smoking pistols, and stole herself a fortune in gold. Then, in the green depths of the forest, she meets a rival - a highwayman with haunting emerald eyes, a price on his head, and a noble secret in his past. They join forces, and Theone rides headlong into the greatest danger of her renegade career: the unquenchable passions of a woman's first love!

84. The Prince Charming List Heather Lowell asked herself this question after moving to Prichett, Wisconsin, to temporarily manage the Cut and Curl Beauty Salon. She's hopeful that this summer she will finally find the love of her life. She even has a list detailing everything she wants in her Prince Charming. But when two men enter her life, Heather suddenly needs to figure out what she really wants – and whether handyman Ian Dexter or rebel-artist Jared Ward figures into her happily ever after.

85. The Ranger Texas Ranger Mitch Striker's uncomplicated bachelor lifestyle suits him just fine: catch the bad guys and move on. But there's nothing straightforward about struggling single mom Brandie Ryland or her adorable four-year-old son, Toby. The beautiful redhead is the prime suspect in Mitch's undercover investigation. But when a hostage standoff leaves Brandie's family vulnerable and uncovers a roomful of contraband and drugs, Mitch second-guesses her involvement in the crime…and his ability to keep his emotional distance. With the danger growing and the clock ticking, Mitch must save Brandie, catch the perps and handle the daddy heartstrings Toby keeps tugging on. Then he'll have to face the secrets he's sure Brandie's keeping – before they become his undoing.

86. The Rose Contract Love is free. Innocence has a price. Raena Barren was born with a secret: of all the magic users in the kingdom of Soma, she is the only one who can hide her power. As a child, she used this magic to help her survive on the streets--until she saved the life of a strange boy called Jorr Portent. He rewarded her with a job in the castle of Soma--and Raena spent the next ten years falling in love with him. But while Raena's life as a servant is sheltered, Jorr's world is one of spies and assassins. When Raena comes of age, their paths will diverge forever… unless Raena can earn a place by his side. To become one of Jorr's operatives, however, Raena must get to know her own body, and outsmart the deadly people around her. She must also sell her innocence to whatever man pays the most… even if that man can't be Jorr.

87. The Secret His Mistress Carried Hiding from the Greek… The ink is barely dry on Giorgios Letsos's divorce papers, but there's only one thing on this unstoppable Greek's mind: finding Billie Smith, his mistress before his marriage. But the sweet, pliable woman he once knew slams the door in his face! Billie fought hard to heal her broken heart after Gio chose to marry someone else. When he storms back into her life, she's determined not to fall for his seduction again. Especially now that she has a secret to protect…their son. But she hadn't counted on just how badly he wants her back in his bed!

88. The Space Between Us Tesla Martin is drifting pleasantly through life, slinging lattes at Morningstar Mocha, enjoying the ebb and flow of caffeine-starved customers, devoted to her cadre of regulars. But none of the bottomless-cup crowd compares with Meredith, a charismatic force of nature who can coax intimate tales from even the shyest of Morningstar's clientele. Caught in Meredith's sensual, irresistible orbit, inexpressibly flattered by the siren's attention, Tesla shares long-buried chapters of her life, holding nothing back. Nothing Meredith proposes seems impossible – not even Tesla sleeping with Meredith's husband, Charlie, while she looks on. After all, it's all in fun, isn't it? In a heartbeat, vulnerable Tesla is swept into a spectacular love triangle. Together, gentle, grounded Charlie and sparkling, maddening Meredith are everything Tesla has ever needed, wanted, or dreamed of, even if no one else on earth understands. They're three against the world. But soon one of the vertices begins pulling away until only two points remain – and the space between them gapes with confusion, with grief and with possibility….

89. The Texas Ranger's Reward Is he seeing double? He can't believe his eyes. When Travis Stillman meets Melissa Dalton, it's as if he's seeing the ghost of his late wife. That explains why his young son warms to Melissa so quickly. The orthopedic therapist is working wonders to help Casey readjust after an accident -- his boy has come alive again. But that's no reason for this former Texas Ranger to let his guard down as he settles into life as a P.I. and single dad. No woman can replace his wife -- especially not one who could be her twin. And when Melissa hires him to investigate a break-in at her family's cabin, he's even more determined to ignore the growing attraction between them. Now he's got to protect both Melissa, and his heart.

90. The Vampire Affair The world knew Michael Brandt as a playboy tycoon. The underworld knew him as a fierce vampire hunter. Armed with a wooden stake and superior strength, Michael targeted the most powerful overlords in a clandestine do-or-die operation...and then tabloid reporter Jessie Morgan uncovered his secret. Only once before had Michael allowed a woman into his secret lair. Now he'd fight heaven and hell to keep Jessie from the same fate. But he couldn't fight the attraction that drew him to her like a bloodlust. An attraction that might prove deadly...or worse. For Michael was going up against the most powerful of the undead--and that vampire had his fangs bared for Jessie.

91. Thief of Hearts An Innocent Beauty. Prim and pampered, Lucinda Snow knew little of men and nothing of danger, until the fog-shrouded night she found herself abducted—and at the mercy of the legendary Captain Doom. Ruthless and mocking, tender and virile, the notorious pirate awakened all Lucy's passionate longings, then abandoned her with nothing but a kiss... A Pirate's Prize. Now safely at home, the alluring waif is tormented by treacherous memories—and by the presence of Gerard Claremont, her mysterious new bodyguard. Everything about him, from his forbidding size to his impertinent manner, sparks her defiance. And even when Gerard's smile turns seductive, no one can make her forget Doom. Yet only when Lucy's path crosses the captain's once more, will she learn who is on a voyage of retribution, and who is out to steal her heart...

92. Things Good Girls Don't Do Good girls don't steal. Good girls don't visit sex shops. Good girls don't have one-night stands. For Katie Conners, being a good girl just isn't worth it anymore. It used to mean getting the life she always wanted. But that was before she got dumped and her ex got engaged to his rebound. So, after a bad day and one too many mojitos, Katie starts making a list of things a girl like her would never do, not in a million years... As a tattoo artist with a monster motorcycle, Chase Trepasso isn't the kind of guy you bring home to mom and dad. And when he finds Katie's list in a bar, he's more than happy to help her check off a few items. Especially the ones on the naughtier side... Katie's more than tempted by Chase's offer, as long as they keep things uncomplicated. But as they spend more time together, she may just wind up breaking the most important rule of all: Good girls don't fall in love with bad boys.

93. This Tender Truce The Boutonnet vineyards, passed down in her family for generations, mean everything to Tory. But she hadn't counted on her grandfather's one condition of her taking over: marry his godson, Chance Mobley. Unfortunately, Tory had decided long ago that she could never truly love the arrogant Frenchman. He had been raised alongside her, and she had loved him once – a child's crush. But Chance has no business being officially inducted into the Boutonnet family, and certainly doesn't deserve her beloved vineyard. As it turns out though, wine might not be the only thing for which Tory has a passion. And Chance has a few things to teach her about love.

94. Undead and Unwed It's been a helluva week for Betsy Taylor. First, she loses her job. Then, to top things off, she's killed in a car accident. But what really bites (besides waking up in the morgue dressed in a pink suit and cheap shoes courtesy of her stepmother) is that she can't seem to stay dead. Every night she rises, with a horrible craving for blood. She's not taking too well to a liquid diet. Worst of all, her new friends have the ridiculous idea that Betsy is the prophesied vampire queen, and they want her help in overthrowing the most obnoxious, power-hungry vampire in five centuries--a badly dressed Bela Lugosi wannabe, natch. Frankly, Betsy couldn't care less about vamp politics, but they have a powerful weapon of persuasion: designer shoes. How can any self-respecting girl say no? But a collection of Ferragamos isn't the only temptation for Betsy. It's just a lot safer than the scrumptious Sinclair--a seductive bloodsucker whose sexy gaze seems as dangerous as a stake through the heart...

95. Unguarded Rhiannon Jenkins is an events planner on the rise. And her latest client, Shawn Emerson, could make her career. Too bad the gorgeous man insists on mixing a lot of pleasure with his business. In Rhiannon's books getting involved with a client is the fastest way to exit a job. So, no. She'll resist all his come-get-me looks and tempting offers. While his charm is easy to overlook, Shawn in the role of confidant and friend breaks down all her best defenses. Suddenly the tables turn and she wants to be close to him. That means opening up about the ugly events of her past – a risk she hasn't taken before now. Oh, but he could be so worth it!

96. Walking Dead For once, Joanne Walker's not out to save the world. She's come to terms with the host of shamanic powers she's been given, her job as a police detective has been relatively calm, and she's got a love life for the first time in memory. Not bad for a woman who started out the year mostly dead. But it's Halloween, and the undead have just crashed Joanne's party. Now, with her mentor Coyote still missing, she has to figure out how to break the spell that has let the ghosts, zombies and even the Wild Hunt come back. Unfortunately, there's no shamanic handbook explaining how to deal with the walking dead. And if they have anything to say about it – which they do – no one's getting out of there alive.

97. What Waits Below Out of the depths... – All her life, Kendra Tremaine had trembled at the very thought of Lynx Lake. She had known even as a child that something unspeakable waited below the surface of the water and she had long sworn never again to set foot on its shore. And yet now she was back to take possession of the family estate that was her unwanted legacy. The legends of Lynx Lake had summoned another visitor, a man of strange powers and dark knowledge. Hart Rainwalker's obsession with the lake's secrets terrified Kendra, even as his brooding passion called to her soul. He claimed only he could protect her from the awful presence that threatened her. But who would protect her from her self-appointed guardian?

98. Wife for Hire The Prospective Husband with a Racy Past... Hank Mallone spotted trouble when she sat down and said she'd marry him! Maggie Toone was a tempting firecracker who'd make his life delightful hell if he let her pretend to be his wife in order to improve his rogue's reputation. Would his harebrained scheme to get a bank loan for his business backfire once Maggie arrived in his small Vermont town and let the gossips take a look? Maggie never expected her employer to be drop-dead handsome, or to affect her like a belt of bourbon on an empty stomach, but she was too intrigued by his offer to say no... and too eager to escape a life that made her feel trapped. The deal was strictly business, both agreed... until Hank turned out to be every fantasy she'd ever had, and Maggie was so bright, funny and downright irresistible that Hank fell head over heels in love! While the town watched, Hank wooed his wife with a charm that had never failed him yet. Could he make her dreams real by proving she belonged in his arms?

99. Wild Heat Sometimes old flames are the hottest of all... In the quaint little town of Cailkirn, Alaska, it's impossible to keep a secret, especially one as juicy as the unexpected return of Kitty Grant. Tack MacKinnon remembers her wild red curls and even wilder spirit-and still feels the sting from when she shattered his heart in college. But there's a pain in Kitty's gorgeous eyes that guts him to the core and Tack is determined to do whatever it takes to see the woman he still loves smile again - even if it means taking on her demons as his own. After fleeing an abusive ex-husband, Kitty decides that the best way to heal her broken heart is to come back home. But she gets a whole new shock when she sees how undeniably sexy Tack has become. More handsome, more muscular, more charming-more everything - he's impossible to resist. Before she knows it, they're reigniting sparks that could set the whole state of Alaska on fire. Yet trust doesn't come easy to Kitty anymore, and as things heat up between her and Tack, she can't help but wonder if one of them is going to get burned...

100. Zombie Moon Caleb Locke lived for one thing — killing zombies. And this man — this legend — was exactly what Samantha Wagner needed. In mist-shrouded alleys, hunted by zombies, haunted by fear, she vowed to find Caleb and convince him to help her. But she hadn't counted on falling in love…. Caleb kept his own secrets — like the one he couldn't hide when the moon was full. But his wolf was drawn to Samantha, recognizing her as his mate. With her in his arms, Caleb reveled in passion… and rued his deception. Would she still love the man who fought by her side if she realized that zombies weren't the only monsters? Samantha would have to make a choice—and she only had till the next full moon.

#mod post #summaries 2020 #spn meanttobe #spn meant to be

3 notes · View notes

renaissancespaceheroes · 4 years

Text

Hidden in Plain Bite

CW: snakes, snakebite, animal attack Over tree roots, around puddles, and through vibrant red and purple foliage, Beck made his way through the dense jungle with the rest of the crew. They were on a mission to document the Khugnoin nation’s traditional stories and cooking practices. The Khugnoins had fought back against the Clandek invasion of their planet, and they and the other nations of their world had managed to repel the invaders. They’d decided they wanted more of their culture documented so that the descendents of those who’d fled the planet could be connected to their heritage. Dr. al-Amin had worked closely with the nation’s magistrates and with a local anthropologist to plan a series of videos, and today they were going to record them.

If they ever made it there. There hadn’t been a landing spot big enough for the da Vinci near the Khugnoin village, and they’d already been walking almost an hour. Beck was considering asking the doctor if she was sure she wasn’t lost when the trees parted and the crew emerged facing the Khugnoin village.

The village was high in the trees, wooden and leather structures built around massive trunks and connected by bridges. The people themselves were well-camouflaged, despite being in the open, covered in downy feathers that were the same purple as some of the jungle’s darker plants. It was easy to see how the Clandek had underestimated them: they were shorter than humans, and they had feathers like baby birds.

“Oh my gosh, they’re cute!” Valentina squealed.

“They’re valiant fighters who defended their planet from an invasion,” Dr. al-Amin pointed out. “And more importantly, they’re people. Be respectful, and don’t patronize them.”

Valentina nodded.

“Right. Sorry.”

The Khugnoin magistrates were already on the ground and ready to meet the crew, as was the human anthropologist who’d been getting to know them and learning their language. She translated between the magistrates and the crew. The Khugnoin language was beautiful, but even though Beck tried to listen for words that might be similar to languages that he knew, he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. After introductions, the locals led the crew up to one of the houses, the crew set up the cameras, and the interviews started. Despite not being able to understand their words, Beck could tell that the Khugnoin storytellers were passionate about this project, telling their tales with dramatic tones and expressive gestures.

After a morning of filming, they took a break for lunch. The crew had brought rations with them, but their hosts insisted on treating them to a dish made from boiled strips of the bark of a native tree and covered in a savory sauce. It was kind of like Terranovan peanut sauce over noodles, or Istolian groundbean paste with strip squash, Beck thought. The anthropologist explained that there were quite a few things on this planet that were poisonous to humans and Fyreans, or simply foul tasting, and the Khugnoins had put a lot of research and thought into what to prepare for their guests.

“Please thank them and tell them we appreciate the work they’ve done,” Beck said. “This is delicious.”

She passed on his message, and their hosts smiled and said a phrase to the anthropologist.

“They’re saying ‘you’re welcome,’ but formally,” she said. “Literally translated, it’s a blessing from the goddess of hospitality.”

Beck had never been religious, but he still felt touched at the blessing.

“That’s very kind of them.”

After lunch, the doctor suggested they split up and have someone get footage of the village while someone else filmed the rest of the interviews and the cooking demonstration. Beck volunteered to walk around with a camera, and Valentina and KS-7 came along.

The Khugnoin children lacked the formality of their parents, and before long a whole group of kids was gathered around the camera, making faces into it and waving. Beck couldn’t communicate through words, but he kept his body language inviting and his tone light and even made a few silly faces of his own. The kids were fascinated by KS-7. They had mammal-like animals on their planet, and they’d seen machines, but a robot marmoset was something new and exciting. Valentina plopped down on the platform they were on and let them touch him.

“We’ll probably need their parents’ permission to put that in the video, but I think we’ve gotten some good shots,” Beck said to Valentina when it seemed like the kids were starting to lose interest. “How about the surrounding area?”

“Sounds good, as long as we don’t get lost,” she said.

“Nah, we won’t go far.”

They traveled around the village, getting footage from a few different angles.

“What about a shot from the ground?” Valentina suggested. “Like where we first came out of the jungle and saw it?”

“Good idea.”

They made their way back down to the jungle floor and spent a few minutes recording from there. KS-7 hopped between tree branches, exploring.

The robot froze.

KS-7 was face to face with a snake, a red-scaled, beady-eyed creature that was staring him down.

He leapt away, and the snake struck out, missing the little marmoset. He scrambled up to Valentina’s shoulder, but the snake followed. Beck grabbed a stick from the ground and rushed towards her.

“Get off! Leave him alone!” Valentina yelled.

The snake struck again, sinking its fangs into Valentina’s arm. She screamed. Beck got the stick under the snake and launched it into the jungle, where it seemed to decide its prey wasn’t worth the effort and slithered away.

“Val! Are you okay?”

Valentina slumped against a tree, breathing hard and staring wide-eyed at the bloody punctures in her forearm.

“It hurts. Do you think it’s deadly?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. It could be harmless, it could be deadly, or it could be somewhere in between. “We need to get you to the medi-pod.”

“That’s an hour away,” she said. “I don’t know if we can make it there in time.”

“Then we’ll have to see if the locals can help.”

Beck wrapped an arm around her and helped her stand. She leaned on him for support, stumbling as they made it back towards the village. KS-7 followed behind on the ground instead of in the trees.

“Come on, Val, you can do it. We’re gonna make it.”

When they were within earshot, Beck called up to the people in the trees:

“Help! Please, help us! Help!”

Even if they couldn’t understand, surely they would hear the desperation in his voice?

A few Khugnoins looked down from their bridges and houses, and they called to each other something that Beck couldn’t translate. A few minutes later, several of them were down on the ground, carrying a stretcher. Valentina nodded and let herself crumple down onto it, and the people-- the medics?-- carried her towards a pulley platform. Beck stayed with them, holding Valentina’s hand.

“You’re doing great. We’ve got you,” he said softly as the pulley lifted them into the village, and she squeezed his hand but said nothing. Her eyes were closed, and she looked pale.

The medics carried Valentina to one of the houses, where there was an array of plants in pots and herbs drying in the window. A Khugnoin woman waved them inside, and Valentina was laid on a pile of blankets. She was still breathing hard and fast, and her face contorted in pain. Beck didn’t let go of her.

The woman-- the doctor?-- looked at the punctures, which had already turned the area around them red and swollen. She turned to Beck, letting loose a series of syllables that clearly meant something. She seemed worried, and that was a bad sign.

“Um…” Beck made a slithering motion with his hand and hissed to indicate a snake.

The woman nodded and gave him a look that said that she’d definitely gathered that much already. Of course she had; it was clearly a snakebite. She repeated the question, and Beck ran a hand over his head in confusion.

“Valentina!” Captain Clay burst into the room with the anthropologist. Sett and Dr. al-Amin were at the door, looking inside nervously, as were a few Khugnoins. Alexa had her arms folded over her chest and looked serious.

The Khugnoin doctor said something quickly to the anthropologist, who turned to Beck.

“She needs to know what kind of snake it was and how long ago the bite happened. That will affect what kind of antidote she needs.”

Okay, that made sense.

“It was a red snake with a roundish snout, about this long,” Beck said, holding his arms apart to indicate the size of the snake. “And it happened less than ten minutes ago.”

The anthropologist translated, and the Khugnoin nodded and got to work crushing up fresh leaves, adding some liquid from a wineskin-like pouch, and grinding little pods that looked like fish eggs. The resulting mixture stank horribly, but if it was effective, Beck wasn’t going to judge it.

The Khugnoin administered the medicine to Valentina through the inside of her nose and under her tongue. Beck wasn’t a medical expert, but it seemed like that was a good way to get something into the bloodstream quickly. Valentina gagged at the smell, and Beck couldn’t blame her.

The Khugnoin doctor said something to the anthropologist, and there was a bit of back and forth between them before the anthropologist turned back to Beck.

“She’s going to continue to care for your crewmate, but she needs us to leave. She’s going to do…” She thought for a moment. “Well, prayer isn’t quite the right word, but neither is magic. It’s part of their religion, and they don’t want to share it with those who aren’t members of it.”

“Is she going to be okay?” the captain asked.

“I don’t know, but I trust the people here to do their best.”

“Be safe, Valentina,” Beck said softly, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go.

When they were all outside, KS-7 clung to Beck’s leg and let out a whimper. The captain leaned back against the bridge railing with his hands in his pockets.

“What happened?” he asked.

Beck sighed and rubbed the back of his head.

“We were filming from the ground, and KS-7 had a run in with a snake. It bit Valentina, and we didn’t know if it was deadly, but we didn’t think we could make it back to the ship in time to get her in the medi-pod.”

“That was a good call,” Sett said calmly. “She’s very weak already and in quite a bit of pain.”

Right, the empathic stuff. Beck just nodded.

One of the Khugnoin magistrates told them, through the translator, that they were welcome to continue work on the filming, or to stop for the day. No offense would be taken either way. He also said that if they wanted to spend the night, accommodations would be made available.

“Am I right in saying they’d be willing to find a place to put us up, but would rather not?” Dr. al-Amin asked.

“Yes, that’s a fair assessment,” the anthropologist said.

“Then let’s do the cooking demonstration tonight and go back to the ship to sleep. We can finish up the narrative project tomorrow.” Her voice was matter-of-fact in a way that bothered Beck. “Of course, the final call is yours, captain.”

“You mean leave Valentina here overnight? Alone?” Beck asked.

“She’s not alone. She’s in capable hands,” said Dr. al-Amin, hands folded in her lap. “And I’m sure she would want us to complete our mission.”

Beck looked back at the house where they’d left Valentina. He’d only known her a few days, but he didn’t want to leave her alone like this. He especially didn’t want her to die. This was awful, feeling helpless to do anything and having to leave her in the hands of total strangers.

“I’m worried about her, too,” said the captain. “But you’re right, doctor. I think the best thing we can do is trust our hosts and wait. It might be the only thing we can do.”

Beck sighed.

“All right,” he said, looking back at the group.

The food the Khugnoins were cooking for the video was one of the dishes that was poisonous to humans, so they didn’t share it with their guests. Instead, they offered them a platter of fruits: a creamy, opaque fruit with a citrusy smell, a cluster of yellow berries that tasted bitter like dark chocolate, and a juicy, fleshy, pink fruit with a tang. Beck would have enjoyed them more if he hadn’t been so worried. He was always up for trying new things, but Valentina had been with the Khugnoin doctor for a few hours, with no word on whether she was recovering.

They made the hour-long trek back to the da Vinci, with KS-7 clinging to Beck and making sad noises, and Beck still couldn’t shake his worry. That night in the sleeping quarters, he hardly slept at all. What if the antidote didn’t work? What if it and the sacrament were just superstitions, a placebo at best? What if it worked in Khugnoins, but was toxic to humans? What if they hadn’t gotten Valentina there in time? What if the snake came back to finish the job? Okay, so that last one was a little far fetched. But still. There were a lot of things that could go wrong.

By morning, his mind had been around in so many circles, with no answers in sight. Breakfast was rushed and quiet. The crew made it through the jungle, back to the Khugnoin village. When they arrived, the magistrates invited them up to the house where Valentina had been treated.

The Khugnoin doctor welcomed them inside. An earthy, herbal aroma hung in the air, dense but not oppressive. There, on the pile of blankets, Valentina lay asleep. Her hair had been taken out of its braid and brushed, her face was clean, and there was a bandage wrapped around her arm where the snake had bitten her. She looked peaceful.

KS-7 clambered down from Beck’s shoulder and curled up next to Valentina.

The Khugnoin spoke through the translator: “She had a rough night, but she made it. She’s going to survive, and while she might feel tired more easily for the next month or so, she does not appear to have lasting damage.”

“Thank you so much for saving her life,” Beck said.

“Your gratitude is appreciated, but the credit goes to the gods.”

Beck nodded respectfully.

They let Valentina sleep so that she could continue to heal while they finished filming. Beck wasn’t as anxious as he had been yesterday, but he was still a little antsy, still eager to get going. It was just part of life, wondering if he’d overstayed his welcome, He was used to being ready to see what was next, to needing to keep moving. You couldn’t stay in one place too long; that’s when things got messy.

The crew wrapped up filming the storytelling before lunchtime, and soon they were ready to be on their way. They went to get Valentina, who was still asleep.

Beck knelt down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’re ready to go, Valentina. Time for you to wake up.”

She stirred and rolled away from him, and KS-7 peeked out from the blankets. .

“Five more minutes,” she grumbled.

“Come on, Val. We’re not gonna leave the planet without you, you know.”

She sat up and blinked.

“I’m alive. Holy shit, I’m alive.”

She threw her arms around Beck, and Beck returned the embrace.

“Yep. We were worried for you, but the locals knew what to do, and.you pulled through.”

She leaned back.

“That’s great! I mean, not that you were worried. The rest of it.”

“I knew what you meant,” Beck said with a chuckle, standing and offering her a hand up.

She took it and managed to stand. KS-7 hopped up onto her shoulder, taking his usual spot. Valentina hugged each of her crewmates, except Alexa, who refused. She also offered a hug to the Khugnoin doctor, who politely declined, and the anthropologist, who accepted.

With their mission complete, the crew made their way back through the red and purple jungle to the da Vinci. As they ascended into the vastness of space, Beck watched the stars shift around the relatively tiny ship, eager to see where their next adventure would take them.

#original fiction #original sci fi #whump #lady whump

4 notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 5 years

Text

» PRE-FLIGHT CHECK, FOUR.

summary: the metal bikini is the icing on the cake for cadet!reader & poe dameron. these two continue to have a bad luck streak. cadet!reader runs into an old friend, poe is jealous. 4/?. companion piece to risks. word count: 4.5k! it’s a long one! a/n: i put this story up on ao3 so you can read there if you’d like! click here!

Poe Dameron has always been an optimist.

Genuinely, he’s a good guy -- smart and quick-witted with a good head in his shoulders. In the worst of moments, he’s always able to look forward and keep his chin up. Must be a genetic thing; his mother was always the same way. Shara, a spearhead in the Rebellion and his own life, had an affinity for spinning the world on her finger -- the sun was always shining if you looked through the clouds.

He’s well-aware it’s infuriating -- I mean, the amount of times he wanted to quit as a kid? To throw in the helmet after a failed time run? To land for good after stalling again and again? Shara was always there on the back porch, ready with a kiss and a smile and a few words of encouragement. The optimism radiated off of her and Poe swore he’d be like her one day.

Kes Dameron? Not so much the optimist. The sergeant was frequently cleaning up the ‘can do’ attitude of his wife -- not that he minded. He loved her to the farthest moon and back forever. Kes would do anything for his wife. After all, the retired-Pathfinder was a fighter.

You remind Poe a lot of his dad.

Hot-headed, short-fuse. Your moral compass is strong but your fighting spirit is stronger.

If you’d known this week long mission would have you wading through metaphorical bantha-shit, you probably would have just had Leia ground and transfer you. After all, Poe had stripped your flight privileges twice before the assignment of this mission (once per command and once per landing gear murder); it was hell, but being grounded meant you wouldn’t be wading through said metaphorical bantha-shit.

Nor be in a metal bikini on in Mos Shuuta, Tatooine, chained to a Hutt Cartel crime-lord and watching as he slobs down some vaguely human-shaped meat leg.

Metal bikinis, for all intents and purposes, are just plain offensive.

I mean, there’s no functionality -- not to mention, no support -- and as you’re forced to your knees and hit the dusty floor of the Mos Shuuta cantina, you’re pretty positive the gathering crowd of onlookers behind you can see the entirety of your backside. You’re aware that’s kind of the point, but you still scowl and wince at the delicate jingling of the body jewelry across your chest.

Too breezy.

Poe’s pretty optimistic, usually. You know, in recent hours that optimism has really been worn down. Sans BB-8 and burdened with his Lieutenant in chains, Poe’s not really sure if this plan is going to work. The New Republic Navy taught you both to be resourceful and yeah, sure, sometimes getting out alive meant following through on a plan that was less than ideal, but no one ever told you this would be your legacy: being paraded for sale in front of your flight-commander.

In a metal bikini.

Poe’s hung up on the bikini, too.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat as bidders begin to circle up, “Teemo...”

Teemo the Hutt -- a large, olive colored Hutt and cousin of the Jabba the Hutt -- is reclined before you in a nest of plush, lavish pillows. The marcan herbs burning in his hookah stings sweetly in your throat as the Hutt pulls and exhales a cloud of the intoxicant your way. He then chomps on the meat-leg, groaning while he chews thoughtfully. At the puff of hookah and bad meat breath, your lip curls in a snarl. Teemo, unsatisfied with the display of attitude, unceremoniously yanks at the chained collar around your neck.

In Huttese, he grovels out a slow: “<She is fiesty>.”

It’s directed at Poe, who’s really going to get it for this plan -- he can tell by the look on your face. He’ll be lucky if he survives getting you both off planetside. (If the plan even works, that is.) You’ll probably smother him in his sleep.

Absentmindedly, he wonders how the Cartel didn’t learn a lesson from Leia, a self-made Hutt-slayer. Chains, really? A little antiquated, don’t you think?

You grit your teeth, settling back on your knees as Poe steps forward from Teemo’s side; his hands are raised, face masked in something mockingly-suave. He’s a good actor, but his usual charm is fading pretty fast; blame the buyers moving to sniff, literally sniff, his Lieutenant. He’s trying to play the roll as slave-dealer, trying to trade you for a ship and then, later that night, bust you out of your chains so you can both slip away.

“Hey, buddy,” Poe snaps at a cantina dweller who gets a bit too close. He cocks a hip, pointing, “You touch her, you’re buying her.”

You’re convinced he gets off on this -- y’know, rescuing the damsel in distress. Typical Dameron. You turn, stealing a deadly glare in the direct of the male Twi’lek leering. He quickly backs off. Poe turns back to Teemo.

“She’s punchy,” Poe shifts from boot to boot, “It’s all part of the package, pal.”

The metal-bikini-slave-trade situation is the icing on top of the last 16 hours.

First, you and Poe were rudely awakened by a low-ranking Kanjiklub lieutenant with an unfortunate name and his ragtag team of even lower-ranking gang members boarding your ship. You’ve never been so thankful to Kanjiklub. After all, it’s not Bala-Tik -- he was the last person you wanted to see right now.

(Safe to say you two hadn’t gotten off on the right foot, despite the smuggler’s insistence on a movie and dinner.)

Poe’s first instinct, of course, was to fight -- but you’re aware of the gang’s reputation and you’re not about to make the situation worse; no doubt you’ve got a bounty on your head, even it if is from a rival gang who is notoriously well-known for collecting said bounties. Credits are credits, even if the bounty was placed by Bala-tik himself. So, in a rare moment, you weren’t the one trying to punch your way out of things. In fact, you were dragging Poe by the collar down to the lower part of the engine room.

With some luck, and a good hiding spot, you thought you could maybe get out of this unscathed. They might think it’s a dead ship - or abandoned. And you probably could have. That is if Poe would have shut up and hid.

“They have a small ship, that means small crew --”

“It’s Kanjiklub,” you seethed, drawing his face close as you round the corner. Your finger jabbed his chest, “Do you want to get us killed?”

Poe’s brows furrowed. “How do you know it’s --”

There was a loud clang overhead signalling they’ve docked. And as much as Poe wanted to figure out how the pit you know it’s the Kanjiklub (you’d seen their callsign scrawled under the hull when they’d pulled the Allanar N3 light freighter into their EM field -- not to mention you’d met up with plenty of these medium sized freighters before), he’s distracted when the sound of boots meets his ears. Both you and Poe flinched then, spurred to hurry and pull at the grates.

“Poe, will you lift --”

“I am lifting --”

The crawl space was small, maybe too small, but you gestured for Poe to go first. Above you on the catwalk, BB-8 and A3-C8 rolled back and forth, whirring hurriedly down at you and Poe. That was your cue.

They’re coming!

“C’mon, go,” you whispered harshly, nudging Poe’s shoulder and quickly following him into the crawl space, “I can hear them --”

“I’m going -- ow, ow, ow,” Poe was cursing as you land in his lap, “God, kid, the knee --”

“I’m trying, this isn’t exactly roomy,” you sneered, “And I’m not a kid --”

Aforementioned low-ranking Kanjiklub lieutenant and crew did a good enough job dragging you both from the hull after you’d been caught mid-whisper-argument; BB-8 and A3-C8 were hauled away, whirring and beeping as they’d yanked up the flooring under the engine room to find you in Poe’s lap, his hand slapped over your mouth. Proximity ignored, you’re hauled up and slapped into stasis cuffs.

“Seriously?” you snarked, “C’mon, bite me, stasis cuffs? Who are you, Guavians?”

On that note, you were promptly clocked with the back end of a laser-sight bolt action blaster and wake up on the floor of the bridge of Jax Dag’s bridge.

Jax Dag, Poe thinks, is a pretty unfortunate name. The kid was young -- no doubt trying to make a name for himself. Too bad the name is just... bad. It sounds wrong. Kinda like a swear. Poe doesn’t really feel comfortable sounding it out in his head. Jaaax Daaaaag. Definitely a swear.

Your own bleary eyes caught his own then, and Poe felt himself deflate a bit. You weren’t dead. On any other day, he probably would have made an off-hand comment about how much of a shame that was. But, right now? He’d never been happier to see your half-concussed scowl. He would asked how you’re feeling if, well... If Jax Dag wasn’t already leering at you. In hindsight, Poe’s starting to realize a trend. He can’t stand that.

“Nice of you to join us,” Jax chirped at you and Poe felt a flare of anger in his chest. Jax’s fingers dug into your chin, “Sleep well?”

“Get your hands off of her,” Poe growled, eyes set in a seriousness you’re not used to seeing. He’s not really sure where that came from. Did he get hit in the head? Your own look says the same thing. Shutting up. Shutting up now.

Jax ignored the comment. Instead, he pointed to the ship in the loading bay. The vomit colored Allanar N3 sat, dim and freshly abandoned. From your spot on the floor, you tested the stasis cuffs. Still there. Your head still hurt -- and Jax’s face isn’t the nicest thing to wake up to. Poor kid. Bad name, bad looks and as you come to find out, a terrible sense of bartering.

Somehow, after an hour of eyelash batting and lip chewing, you’d convinced the kid to drop you and Poe on the nearest planet in trade of the ship, all the credit on either of you, and --

“The droids.”

“No,” Poe scowled, trying to cut the games, “No way. The droids don’t leave our side.”

“Then no deal,” Jax Dagger battled back, “And I call Bala-Tik up, turn you in, and then I take the droids.”

You nearly fall over yourself at the mention of the rival syndicate’s Leader and Poe noticed. “Take the droids.”

He turned, then, and looked at you like you’d had eight tentacles and a pit for a mouth. Turn you in?

BB-8 howls in protest. BeeOOOoop?

“The droids,” you said, “Are worth you dropping us in the closest town when we land.”

And so, here you are. In a metal bikini. In a musty cantina, chained to Teemo the Hutt who smells like hookah and meat and sweat. Poe saunters in front of you, boots dirtied from the Tatooine sand and you wonder why the hell you hadn’t proposed to make him the slave -- half the cantina was looking at him like he was an entire meal. You’re not sure why the leering is making you so mad, I mean, c’mon. He probably smells like the wrong end of a tauntaun right now.

But still, it’s infuriating how good he looks -- shirt matted with sweat, sand caked along his jacket. His curls are stuck to his forehead, and despite how sweaty he is thanks to the Mos Shuuta heat, he’s still looking like a verified poster-boy. The dark line of five o’clock shadow lining his jaw is more dirt than anything. You’re irritated he looks dashing and even more, that you’re even thinking this way.

Maybe you hit your head.

(The landing had been rough. When Jax Dag said he’d “drop you off” he’d been being literal.)

All the while, Poe doesn’t feel like he looks good. He can feel the prick of a sunburn along his nose and the grit of sand in his pants and -- Pit, he smells. He knows he smells. He can feel the sweat running down his back just standing here in the stale air of the cantina. You, at least, had been given a shower and new outfit before you’d been paraded in front the cantina like a piece of prized steak. Not that he was a fan of that. At all. And he’s a little irritated he feels so keen on throwing you his jacket so you can cover up.

He definitely hit his head.

“You look like you’re interested, Teemo.”

Poe’s voice is even-tempered, hands on his hips as he stands in-front of you.

“<Can she dance?>”

You don’t speak Huttese; you’d instead opted to learn Mando’a in the academy. When Teemo wriggles and leans to look at you around Poe, you try to hide your evident confusion. It had sounded like a question. When Poe turns on a heel, hands still on his hips and his face is warped into something tied between fear and apology, your stomach sinks. You have a bad feeling about this.

“Of course she can dance.”

Oh, you could kill him.

There’s that can-do attitude of his -- and here you are, cleaning up the mess of aforementioned attitude. With a single wave of Teemo’s greasy meat-leg, the band strikes a tune that is so not something you’d ever dance to on a night out. From your spot on the ground, your face is set with such a heavy sense of mortification, Poe has to mouth a very short: “I’m so sorry”.

The singer in the far corner chirps a cat-call of encouragement your way. T’Snooza and the Blur-tones reads their drum-set. T’Snooza, you’re assuming, gives a loud bellow, music striking a crescendo. You thought jatz died during the last Galactic War. The music genre is just... unfortunate.

You’re yanked to your feet then, eyes a bit wild -- the braid on your head swings as you snarl and try to gain your balance.

“I can’t dance.”

“That’s -- c’mon,” it’s Poe, eyes wild, “Don’t be shy, kid. Show ‘em what you can do --”

You’re about to say screw it, about to try and get into some sort of groove when suddenly:

“Shut off tha’ kriffin’ music!”

Every head in the room swivels, albeit Teemo’s turns a bit slower, to land on the man in the entrance of the cantina -- he’s tall, swathed by four red outfitted men. Poe knows the crest on their chest nearly immediately.

Guavian Death Gang.

You’ve never been happier to see Bala-tik in your life.

Oh, you could kiss him.

“We’d like tae make a purchase.”

Suddenly, the excited BOOOWEEEEEEPs of A3-C8 and BB-8 roll through the doorway in tow. The GDG make quick work on crowd control, the high-ranking gang members clearing the way for Bala as he crosses the opening before Teemo and snorts.

“Gold isn’t really yer’ color, is it?”

Bala-tik, a bit like a metal bikini, is a man built on impracticalities -- if he sees something and he wants it, he usually gets it. As leader of one of the most notorious black-market affiliated gangs, he’s got access and a lot of it. Just not to people like you; he’d love to say the pretty New Republic Navy pilot with affinities for T-68 X-Wing mods was his, but he can’t. And that? That infuriates him.

And the eyeing that’s going on right now? Yeah, that’s infuriating Poe.

“Sorry, catch me up,” Poe chirps, “Do you two know each other?”

“An’ this must be yer new Commander --”

Poe is getting sized up. He know what this is. The pilot immediately squares his shoulders and his jaw, dark eyes narrowing on the man in front of him. Bala-tik is about the same height as him, if not a bit younger, with a haircut that leaves a lot to be desired. Poe would do something about the way Bala is looking at him if weren’t for the four armored pirates circling him.

“Teemo,” Bala-tik raises his voice, eyes not breaking from Poe once, “How much for ‘er?”

A burp. And then:

“<800 credits>.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Poe starts, turning to raise his hands at the Hutt, “We’re a package deal.”

At that, half the cantina jumps into a roar, fists raised with credits clutched tightly. The uproar, as unexpected as it is, is enough to catch Bala-tik off guard. You move then, hand pressing gently against the armored chest of the Guavian Death Gang leader. His eyes jump to you, softening a bit at the gesture. Very quickly, years of unreciprocated feelings fly to the surface and Poe is awed by the way you play him. Another one lost to the wrath of the metal bikini.

“Bala, please,” you urge, “Just get us out of here.”

There’s a moment’s pause. You can see the sway in his eyes -- in all the years you’d known the black-market arms dealer, you’d always been good at reading him. He’s an open book if you know the language. Raising your face, you sport your best enamored look. Thank god for the holovids of Mandalorian soap-operas you and L’ulo had been binging.

“You saved my droid?” it’s sultry.

Poe’s whole face scrunches up. And then he sees your hand.

Bala-tik’s jaw is slack, voice uneven. You lean a bit closer.

Poe watches as your fingers land on the holster along Bala-tik’s hip.

“Couldn’t a’ had th’ Kanjiklub recyclin’ ‘im.”

“Oh?” you bite your lip, “I guess I should say thank you, then, huh?”

You temptress. Poe’s impressed. You’ve got the gang-leader around your finger. And currently, the poor sap’s eyes are closed and chin jutting as he leans in for a kiss.

In a flash, Bala-tik’s rifle is tossed into Poe’s hands.

In a flash, the cantina descends into outright chaos.

Instead of a kiss, the crime-lord gets a right-hook; he drops to the ground and you follow, ducking and clearing a way for Poe to take down the two guards to his right. The yank of a chain brings you to your knees and you snarl.

“<No, no, little girl.>”

That boils something in your blood.

You move fast, distracting the other two armored-thugs as you bound up the Hutt’s platform and tug your chain in tow. The cantina has now succumb to the chaos and is scattering into a massive brawl, drinkers going for the expensive armor and gadgets on the GDG thugs while Teemo bellows out orders for his own guards.

You choke those orders right off.

Poe’s distracted, slack-jawed and trying to make fast work of the Gamorrean guards as you pull a royal Leia and put an end to Teemo the Hutt with his own chain. There’s something to be said about it, something awfully poetic about you snuffing out an in-famous slave dealer with his own device for control. With one short war-cry, you finish the deed as the Hutt’s tongue lashes out; a few short moments later, he stills and you huff. Your hair is wild, back slick with sweat as you stumble from the platform and claw at the collar around your neck.

“Hold this.”

You gratefully take the blaster.

Poe slides to your side behind the platform, fingers working nimbly at the collar there -- you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. When the metal collar finally falls from your neck, you exhale. You try and catch your breath. Your hands hit Poe’s chest.

“We need to go,” your eyes hit the far door which frames more GDG thugs pouring through it, “Now.”

“Couldn’t agree more, Punchy,” he chirps, snagging your hand and standing fast, “Bee-bee, Ace! Find us a ride, will you?!”

“Yeah, alright,” you chirp, yanking your hand back, “Nice try -- I can handle myself, Dameron --”

Blaster fire rockets over your shoulder and you shriek, no protesting in the slightest when Poe grabs you again, manhandling you in front of him and out the back door. His hands linger on your waist, pressing you forward and into the hot sun of the Mos Shuuta -- quickly, the two of you chase after the two astro-droids peeling around the cantina to the makeshift airfield behind of it. The selection on ships is slim, but the YT-2400 that the two droids break into will do, even if it is older than both you and Poe and smells like soured Kaadu milk.

Dropping the blaster at the door, you break from Poe.

“You fly, I’ll shoot!”

The engine starts with a cough and a sputter. The gunner turret is stiff, but as you swing wide and train on the crew of Guavian’s approaching, you can’t complain about the kick. You give an excited shout and lay down cover, fingers moving to charge the front canons -- you swing again, body jewelry jingling as the freighter rattles up and Poe begins the take-off sequence. But it’s slow.

You can see the GDG loading into their ships.

Bad news.

“Any day now, Poe --”

“Gimme a second,” he hollers, “Tryin’ my best up here!”

You throw yourself from the turret, bounding up into the cockpit and hands hitting the back of Poe’s chair as the hyper-drive stutters.

“Come on, beautiful,” Poe mutters, “Come on.”

Another flick of the drive. EEENNNHHH-CHU-CHUNK.

Your eyes dart across the dash -- you spare him one single, annoyed look before punching the landing lock.

And with that, you and Poe and your droids slip away from Mos Shuuta and the GDG in a flash of blue.

In hyperspace, you both melt into silence, your back hitting the seat of the co-pilot’s chair with a soft jingle. The metal of the ships floor is cold on your bare feet. Poe turns slowly, dark eyes watching you --

“Told you the plan would work.”

Poe Dameron has always been an optimist.

“Next time,” you grit out, “You get to wear the metal bikini.”

Poe chews the inside of his lip. You can see the flicker of something on his face and you’re still watching him as he turns to punch in the coordinates for Voss. Crossing your arms, you can’t control the amusement in your tone.

“Oh,” you chirp, “Ooooh, no, go ahead, Dameron -- chalk it up, laugh it up -- go ahead. I get it, yeah, really funny -- she can dance --”

“I mean,” Poe jabs, “I knew you couldn’t -- I had to try --”

“I can dance just fine, thank you --”

“Oh? Is that how you and Bala-tik know one another? Dancing...?”

You snap your mouth shut, brows raising. Poe blinks over his shoulder at you. He knows instantly his tone has betrayed him -- the way he said it showed his cards and the weird sense of jealousy that flares in his chest at the mere mention of the crime-lord’s name. You turn, standing and moving to place your hands on your hips. Your tone is accusatory.

“You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous --”

He’s trying not to stare at the soft dips of your hips.

“I can’t believe it, you’re jealous.”

Poe snarls. “I am not jealous.”

“No? No, then what’s the problem --?”

“What’s the -- really? -- he’s the leader of an underground gang, that’s the problem --”

“Oh, that’s the problem.”

“Yeah.”

“Not the eyes -- not the near-kiss --”

“I don’t -- no, that’s not --!” Poe throws his hands, finger darting into your face as he stands and moves to step around you. His eyes get caught on the low dip of the bikini and he’s fast to blink and recoil, “You are... infuriating, you know that? I saved our skins and here you are --”

“You saved our skins?” you jeer, arms crossed as you follow the fly-boy through the halls of the freighter. He stops at the back generator, eyes checking the readings there. You can’t believe him. He’s trying to do a pre-check mid-flight, “You’re kidding -- can you, for one second, can you just admit you’re not always the hero, Dameron?”

“Oh, right, you’re the hero -- the one in bed with Bala-tik --”

Your tone is sharp as you corner Poe, your own finger in his face. Your braid swings and your body chain catches the light.

“I am not in bed with that scum.”

“Reeaaaally?” Poe’s tone is cold. His brows raise in faux-impressment.

“Really,” you seeth, “I am over that part of my life --”

“Sure didn’t look like it, Punchy --”

“What the kriff does that mean?!”

“I saw the way he looked at you,” Poe supplies, standing and moving to the opposite side of the room. The other generator’s readings distract his gaze from you, still traipsing around in the slave-outfit. You follow, face set in anger, “He clearly wasn’t over it - ... Are you going to change?”

“He’s delusional. He mistook buyer-loyalty for romance,” you bite, ignoring the changing comment, “It was never a thing, it will never be a thing.”

“Buyer-loyalty, huh?” Poe tries to feign his interest -- he’s listening intently, hell-bent on trying to convince you otherwise. Your outfit jingles as you follow him down into the engine room. The venom is heavy in his voice.

“You’re not stupid, Poe,” the laugh you supply drags his eyes from the generator and to your face, “You can’t seriously believe the mods on my X-Wing are NRN-flight-compliant?”

“Wait...”

A pause. You blink at him expectantly. Poe’s interest in the engine is abandoned.

“...You bought mods from the GDG?”

“Of course,” you laugh, like it’s already been said, “What, you seriously think -- ... oh my god. Did you... think I built them myself?”

Poe’s face falls.

“You did, you thought I --,” you cover your mouth, “Installed, yea, but those things are -- you’re kidding. I told Snap about them. I thought...”

“Well,” Poe throws his hands, “Snap didn’t share that info!”

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god, what... what did you think I was going to say when I said ‘buyer-loyalty’? Spice?”

“I don’t know!” he nearly shrieks, eyes darting down on impulse, “I don’t -- you’re just... Could you change?!”

“What, is the bikini distracting?”

“Honestly, yes --!”

The meaning behind that statement hits you both and where anger was, awkwardness flies in.

“Well, I don’t have anything else to wear, Dameron,” you chirp, face suddenly hot with embarrassment. You’re suddenly very aware of his gaze and feel yourself shrinking a bit. You pull yourself away from the argument, arms crossed tightly over your chest now as a way of covering yourself.

Poe heaves a sigh, moving quickly to dig through the cargo bins on the far wall -- inside, he finds a tunic, light cotton pants and a pair of boots that are one size too big for you. Shoving the bundle your way, Poe’s face is screwed up tight like he tasted something bitter. You avoid his gaze and he avoids yours.

“Here.”

“... Thanks.”

You pull the sheer fabric close to your behind as you ascend the stairs, trying to cover yourself up a bit. Still too breezy. Poe tries not to stare.

When you’re out of earshot, BB-8 gives an amused whir from up above on the catwalk.

Not jealous, my processor chip.

“Shut up, Bee-bee.”

#punchy #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #poe x reader #star wars imagine #YAAAAHOOOOOO

169 notes · View notes

cursewoodrecap · 4 years

Text

Session 11: Cirque Macabre

On the road from Mornheim to Bad Herzfeld, we can’t even have a day off in peace.

Good Morning Baaaaaaaltimornheim~

We wake up in Mornheim along with the Fairgolds, having crammed all six of us into one room at the overcrowded inn. We see behind the scenes into Flynn’s hair care routine. What, you think he looks this dashing naturally? He has product for his beard and moustache.

Flynn is sicker than he was after Valeria gave him the Pat Pat of health yesterday, but better than he was when he came in. He had advantage to his roll today, for Reasons the DM won’t disclose. He’s putting up a brave front, and is definitely putting some extra effort into looking dashing and healthy. Somebody get him his fancy hat!

Meanwhile, having spent the whole night in close quarters with Valeria, Clem, and Fiona, Shoshana wonders: why is every woman she meets improbably jacked? What even is her life.

The plan, just to recap: We’re heading to a place called Bad Herzfeld, because we’ve heard it’s overflowing with the rare herbs and plants we need as spell components for the ritual we found in the manor house, which should purify the water supply of Mornheim. (Somebody’s been sticking their Taint in the water. HURR HURR)

We take a moment to question why, if it was a mage working in the von Mornheim manor, are the ingredients of the spell so druidic, and the spell written in archaic Old Valdian like a druid might speak? Druids live in the woods making friends with badgers; this was a bona fide wizardy laboratory. Shoshana rolls to see if she can figure it out and nat 1′s. What do you mean this isn’t what all wizard shit looks like?

Valeria also rolls to figure it out and rolls...not much better. Maybe there was a druid squatting in an old wizard lab? Who knows. Magics is magics.

We have a thin, unfulfilling soup for breakfast, and then split up to prepare for travel.

Valeria immediately heads off over by the city gates. She tells the DM that her activity will need ten minutes, and that “you know what I’m doing.” The rest of us have to wait in suspense.

Shoshana stops in to double-check on the doctor; she’s realized that it’s pretty likely that any corpses will get up just like Sokolov did, and she’s pretty sure the locals have figured that out but needs to double check. Turns out that yes, the Doctor has been burning the bodies. Cremation isn’t common in Valdia; if you live in a forest, funeral pyres tend to set the trees on fire. But you do what you gotta in a zombie apocalypse.

Clem organizes her kit and sharpens her sword, then takes a little while to read through the Sturmhearst journals she picked up from the book merchant. There’s an article about research into “replacing lost limbs with synthetic troll blood made of fungus.” Given what we’ve just found out about fungus people... thaaaaat could be bad.

Gral interrupts her reading to awkwardly ask Clem about when he used his magic lutestrings to wooble her. “How did it feel? I’d like to make sure I don’t kill someone by accident.

Clem thinks about the experience, which did come with a chunk of psychic damage. “It wasn’t painful, or necessarily unpleasant?” she says, thoughtfully. “But it was unpleasant in its unexpected nature. Like when the surface of a pond starts rippling – but you’re made of air instead of water – I dunno if I’m describing it right? But it was like that.”

Gral sits down next to her. “After acquiring the strings, my best test subject was self. You get used to it quickly. Maybe it’s not good to get used to it?”

Clem nods. “Yeah, it’s probably bad to get used to it.” She shows the journals to Gral to get his opinion, since the orcs have had skirmishes with fungal zombies before. The paper details the formula derived from a strange new fungus, but doesn’t really give any details about the fungus itself, so Gral doesn’t have much to go on.

As they flip through the journals, they also find a paper about fungal infection and potential treatments, by a Professor Alma Ulmus. Useful for Flynn, perhaps?

Clem med checks well and grasps the concepts pretty well. The paper details several techniques for dealing with fungal infection. There are some theories about ways to selectively target the infection with necrotic damage and certain medicines/poisons. Unfortunately, the techniques tend to come with hefty risks to the wellness of the patient, since you’re basically injecting a toxin that is mildly more deadly to the fungus than to the patient. It’s chemo, basically.

(We go down a conversational rabbit hole re: magic cancer and magical chemotherapy techniques, and have to get wrangled back on track.)

None of the treatments are outlined in enough detail for us to use. Mostly it’s an update about ongoing research initiatives, in case anyone wants to give the good Professor some grant funding.

(”The results aren’t peer reviewed yet - Who am I kidding, Sturmhearst doesn’t peer review.” “They used to, back in the good old days!” says our ghost scalpel.)

Valeria has, meanwhile, found a decent spot to perform her holy ritual, and lets the other players know that “we” are coming to meet up with the group. The first player to realize what’s going on squeals a little.

Valeria, in fact, has cast Seek Steed. (Yes, the PHB calls it Find Steed, but alliteration is important!)

Something is walking alongside Valeria, pressing its large reptilian head to her chest affectionately. It’s similar to the creatures we’ve seen pulling Lucinius’ cart but it’s thinner, taller, more fine-boned. It is a faintly glowing lilac color, with silver reaching up to almost its knee on one foreleg and its ankle on the opposite hind leg, with a silvery crescent on forehead.

“Oh my god, it’s a crocodile,” Shoshana’s player gasps.

“It’s an ALLIGATOR,” Valeria’s player returns indignantly.

Valeria pets the cool dinosaur behind its skull and tells it its name is Aethis. (It’s named for the aether from which it arose, being a celestial mount.) Rack, in his divine kindness, also had Aethis show up with a very fancy saddle. It has a rose embossed on it, and as Valeria names the creature, “Aethis” appears embossed on the saddle in Draco-Aquilian. The reptilian mount is faintly glowing purple.

Its pronouns are they/them, because it is a celestial being of divine energy that has taken mortal form for Valeria’s convenience; what even is a gender.

The rest of us stare. “...Where did you get that.”

“Rack gave them to me!”

“Just, like, now? While I was in the bathroom?”

“There’s a ritual. It’s a paladin thing.”

Shoshana awkwardly waves at the lizard. Gral obligingly holds out his hand for sniffs. Aethis sniffs him. Heartened, Shoshana cautiously moves forward for awkward pats on the head, which Aethis accepts.Shosha awkwardly pats. Aethis accepts the pats. Gral(‘s player) is like I PLAY WITH THE PUPPY even though it’s an Alligator Horse.

(The locals are like, what the fuck is that thing??? Like it’s obviously a paladin’s celestial steed, but……it’s THAT THING. Former-Kyr Crabber is not around to miss his long-gone mount.)

We don’t see Aubrey around – she was on watch last night, so she’s probably sleeping. Skulbjor the troll is watching the gate.

“Hi, folks. Oh, lookit dat. You didn’t come in with that,” he says, appreciating Aethis. And hey! More folks came in last night - the one that doesn’t talk and the one that talks too much. So where ya headed? Back into the necropolis for another mission?”

We tell him all about our mission for spell components and fungus problems.

“Alright, well, don’t got time to process all that right now,” he says slowly as his troll-brain tries to catch up. “Let’s say good luck and I’ll tell Lady Aubrey you went to get some medicines. All right, best of luck to ya. Stay away from that grove what’s north of the road, the watchman heard some things movin’ around in there. I like your new chomper.”

Skulborg proceeds to scritch our new chomper with one big troll finger. “Aww, ’s a good chomper.” Aethis accepts the scritches.

We leave the dreary town of Mornheim. And as we leave its twisted trees and grim orchards and rows of graves, we feel the sun on your face, and it feels a little like we’ve been holding our breath in all this time. The sun feels warmer and we all feel a bit more alive, having left that place.

According to our best map, some of the roads go through Dead Towns, which people generally go around. Traveling in the Cursewood is a lot of back roads these days. You take the main road where you can, but some places are just impassable now – disrepair, or spooky monsters, or sometimes a town just vanishes and people wisely decide not to go where it used to be.

The result of this is that all of us have maps, and none of them match. Being a cartographer is a very stressful job right now, okay? Luckily, a good Survival check keeps us on the trail. We’re going for a town called Three Oaks Junction, which is more of a permanent camp than a proper town. We can get a better map there. It’s basically a three-way crossroads of some major roads; a travel stop that has a large enough occupancy of tents and carts that it can function as a safe stopover and makeshift town. We’re about two days out from there.

How long do we have until the troll moot? Fiona starts signing, and Flynn translates. Trolls don’t exactly subscribe to the mail, so they’re very slow to get the word out and get together. It’s less of meeting and more like a short-term living situation for times of crisis. They rarely last very long – trolls are solitary because they eat a lot of food. A large population of trolls in one place needs a LOT of food, and a big gathering is only done in extreme situations where there’s access to large food stockpile. There hasn’t been one in at least 200 years; mostly they’re just talked about in old songs. So we have plenty of time, but we want to shut it down long before any momentum starts up. If we can stop trolls from hearing about the moot in the first place, that might be the best for everyone.

(As we travel, we have our usual silly arguments, this time about Aethis: Celestial war mounts do not need to eat, although war gators are obligate carnivores. So Aethis can eat meat if they want to, right? In that case, what happens to that food?

“HOW IT POOP, DM? WRITE THE LORE!”

“It’s not a real gator, it doesn’t poop!”

“It waits until it’s unsummoned, and then it poops ALL AT ONCE in the celestial plane.”

“Dude? Dude? Curse you.”

“Was that a....lore dump?”

“CUUUUUURSES.”

I am told to please excise this from the record. I absolutely do not follow instructions.)

We’re boppin along and making decent time. As we travel, Valeria rolls good insight and sees through Flynn’s stiff upper lip, and insists on pushing another Lay On Hands of curing disease into him. Again, it clears his symptoms but doesn’t end the disease.

It’s late afternoon when we see a decently sized cottage by the side of road. It looks pleasant! There’s flower boxes in the windows, blooming picturesquely. There’s a cart next to it, loaded up with furniture and stuff, and a sign nailed to a tree nearby that says “MOVING SALE! CURIOS, ODDS AND ENDS. COOKIES PROVIDED WITH PURCHASE.”

Valeria is intrigued by cookies. Clem always likes a curio.

There’s a young girl running about and an old lady in a rocking chair, out in front of the house. The young girl is carrying things from the house to the cart. There’s a little table next to the old woman’s chair with a tray of cookies, as well as a surprisingly sturdy looking box. The old lady waves. “Oh, hello!”

We come say hi. “Yes, I’m moving in with my daughter and my granddaughter here! Say hi, honey.” The little girl waves hello and continues to help pack the cart. “My daughter and her family say it’s not safe out here alone for old woman. I resisted as long as I could. I can handle myself, but just last week as Rosie here was coming to visit, a werewolf almost attacked me! So I figured it was finally time to pack up and go.”

(Yes, we picked up on the Little Red Riding Hood joke.)

Clem immediately insight checks the little old lady, and nat 20′s. She is being perfectly trustworthy. Actually, she’s playing up the helpless little old lady act a little too hard. Clem thinks that she might have killed that werewolf herself. She’s got no intent to harm us, except maybe rip us off a little.

Clem shrugs. We ARE a group of 6 well armed strangers and a war gator. She’s got every right to be a bit on guard and play up the friendliness. She’s legit.

“Most of the things I’m not bringing with me are inside. Go take a look around! I traveled quite a lot in my youth, and I still have a few souvenirs!”

Valeria ties Aethis outside – in sight but not right up on the old lady, who is not spooked by Aethis at all. (Valeria is slightly offended that everyone is a little spooked by them. They’re just a gator! Gators are everywhere, it’s not like they’re a big deal!)

We enter the charming cottage and, well...that’s not what we expected. It’s absolutely stuffed, and it’s stuffed with COOL-ASS STUFF. There’s paintings and trophies lining the walls. That’s definitely a giant’s axe hanging there, carved with ancient runes. There’s a sultry oil painting taking up most of one wall, a picture of a young woman halfway out a window, turning to face the camera, smiling wickedly and clutching a gem as she prepares to rappel out the window. There’s big ol’ treasure-chest-lookin’ chests and boxes everywhere. There’s an old Aquilian war banner, hanging as a decorative tapestry. Gral spots some Orcish artifacts.

Who IS this woman?! Maybe she’s the protagonist of our spinoff prequel.

The first thing Valeria does, of course, is cast Detect Magic to see what glows. A beat, and then she just starts pointin’ everywhere. EVERY-DANG-THING is magic.

Gral ponders sagely. “I’m starting to think she may have overplayed the helpless old lady thing.”

Let’s investigate for stuff we wanna buy! Gral would like a projectile weapon, or perhaps some armor? Or a nice brooch. He finds a pack of 5 crossbow bolts inscribed with some sort of rune.

The old lady sticks her head in to see how we’re doing. “Ah yes, can I help you find anything? I know it’s a bit of a mess, I’m in the middle of moving.” She spots Gral holding the bolts. “Oh, those are Bolts of Heart Seeking! They’re quite nice, I think. They’ll run you at least a hundred. I was asked to get rid of most of the deadlier souvenirs…” Gral buys them. 5 bolts, each granting advantage on the attack and an expanded crit range.

Shoshana looks for something protective, given her terrible caster AC.

“I’m sorry, dearie, I sold my old armor set a while back,” the old lady tells her, but she rustles in a drawer and pulls out a little bag. “This was big help back in the old days whenever I got cornered by some-”

“Grandma-” interjects the granddaughter, warningly.

“Well! Anyway, this will make anything that breathes sneeze and cough! 100 gold, and don’t say where you got it if you use it for anything illegal.” It’s 3 doses of Dust of Sneezing and Choking. Shoshana considers, but passes.

Clem doesn’t have much money after splurging on her new armor. She’s gonna save it.

Valeria looks for - well, she wants books, also anything that matches the Order of the Rose aesthetic, since she just found Kyr Marius’ old dagger. She doesn’t find anything recent - maybe some stuff decorated with floral designs, but nothing that would have been lost in the Crusade at the Summer Palace. She does find a shrine to the trickster god Guile in one corner of the room, and more importantly, a collection of rare books! None are magical, sadly.

Valeria picks up a book about an expedition to an ancient Aquilian flying city. “Ah yes, that one was a comp copy! It all happened maybe 40 years ago?” the elderly lady chirps.

“Oh, did you write this?” Valeria inquires politely.

“Oh, goodness, no, I didn’t write it – I’m in it!” Sure enough, the cover has a lovely picture of a dashing lady-adventurer who looks suspiciously similar to the one in the painting.

We ask her name. “Jolene. Or Josephine. Johanna, sometimes. I think I’m Jolene in the book. Yes, those were good old days…”

She holds out a rod with a grappling hook on both ends. “This old girl’s seen a lot of the world with me. I picked it up from that nice artificer in Galway. It produces ropes! You push this button to launch the grapple, see-” she says, demonstrating, “-and this one to wind it in.”

“It’s a clever bit of machinery,” Valeria admits.

“Oh, he mostly cheated with magic.” We pass on the Rod of Ropes, but it’s caught Flynn’s eye. After a short bickering session of increasingly rapid hand-signs, he buys it.

Gral asks about all orc stuff. “That was all a gift from orc leader some years back.”

“Oh? Who was it?”

“Ven’shek was the last name. His people mostly called him One-Ear?”

Gral’s jaw drops, like an indie band kid who found out their grandma knew Les Paul personally. “YOU KNEW ONE-EAR?!”

Gral’s history roll gives him some context: One-Ear was a bard, and he was a pretty big deal. He had two ears; he was just deaf in one after rocking out too hard at one point. He’d fought an evil necromancer who was trying to animate mummies of the honored dead, leading a group of bards to put a stop to that nonsense. He unleashed a sonic blast so powerful it buried the necromancer in an avalanche, but also blew out his left eardrum.

The old lady seems unfazed. “Yeah. He had two ears! He kept wanting us to ask why, but I wasn’t gonna fall for that.” Hanging on the wall is a bona-fide autographed copy of One-Ear’s bard mask, similar to the one Gral wears.

Gral is still Absolutely Gobsmacked. “He was before my time but I’ve always really admired his work!”

“Yes, good times. He wanted my help with retrieving a thing from a-” Her voice drops to a mumble, “-dragon’s hoard.”

We check out a few more items. There’s a perpetually bloodstained sword sitting in the corner, with teeth carved in the hilt, quietly whispering, “feeeeeeeeed” to itself, which we leave well alone. There’s Gloves of Thievery and a Handy Haversack for sale, as well as a small silver raven ornament that Ms. Jolene claims will deliver messages. “Oh, I got that little thing in the flying city! It’s an Aquilian device originally meant to carry messages between their cities. It’ll deliver a spoken message or a letter. If it can’t get there in 24 hours, it’ll come right back to you. I was sort of hoping to use it to correspond with old friends...”

Awww. We won’t take it away from her, then. We WILL pool some cash for that Haversack, though. “We had good times together. I’m a bit sad to see it go,” the old lady admits, patting it fondly. Sure enough, the small black-and-grey bag is there in her painting, on the hip of the sexy thief.

That’s about all the cash we want to spend, but the sun’s starting to go down and this seems about as safe a place to camp as any. Old Woman Jolene doesn’t mind.

Flynn takes the opportunity to play with his new Rod of Ropes. “Fiona, hold my hat! I’m gonna try it out!”

Fiona signs to Shoshana, which with a bit of insight she figures out means, “Can you cast Feather Fall?”

“Nope.”

Fiona signs something to Flynn.

“Thank you, Shoshana! I’ll be sure to shout if I need your help!”

He does some acrobatics off the roof of the house, but he hasn’t had the practice with this thing yet. “Shoshana, now would be a good time to-” He falls flat on his face.

Fiona does her weird cough-laugh at him as he dusts off with an overdramatic scowl.

That’s our adventure at Jolene’s Lifetime-of-Adventuring Surplus. Jolene’s Stolen Goods Boutique: She takes them just because she caaaaaaan.

Given what we know about Ms. Jolene, we all keep an eye on our purses that night. Luckily, it seems like she’s trying to downsize.

In the morning, Flynn is not doin’ great, coughing hard and looking pale. Valeria Lays on Hands again, negating his symptoms. But we’re gonna need a permanent solution eventually.

Shoshana rolls a mediocre medicine check. The illness is from the inhaled spores from the farmer’s son, and it’s mostly respiratory. Maybe Shosha could brew a tea that could help with some of the symptoms, but she doesn’t have a supply of the right herbs, and Valeria’s got the symptoms covered for now. Ah well, it was worth a try.

We get on the road and roll into Three Oaks Junction later that day. There are indeed oaks there, significantly more than thee. Like we expected, it’s more of a big camp than a normal town – there are a few permanent structures, like a sheriff’s depot, but most folks here are living out of tents. There’s a big marketplace where many traveling merchants and local farmers come to trade, sort of a perpetual bazaar.

Valeria & Clem work together to write up a letter to Ambassador Khoshev with the warning about the Red Hand’s assassination plans. They give Clem’s name and rank for veracity and slap Valeria’s noble seal on it to give it priority. Asking around, they’re told there’s actually a courier service with a permanent shop over by the founder’s statue. Bonus, not only can they get a message to the Ambassador, they can also get a message over to Holzog, where Clem knows there are messengers who could get a message back to her “caravan,” which she hasn’t mentioned to the other three before.

Clem and Val head over to Red Raven Couriers to send their letter. Clem also sends parcel of gems to her caravan, the ones that we found in the Mornheim manor, about 100g total. The halfling clerk asks if the packages have any valuables we’d like to insure. Clem insights him, he seems like a trustworthy professional instead of someone who’ll go through her mail for loot. “The package for Holzog is valuable, I’d rather delay it if it will get extra security. The message is the opposite - it’s urgent, and there is no material value.”

The package of gems will go on the next well-guarded stagecoach, and the message will go immediately on a relay of fast horses. Valeria makes sure to tip extra well. Red Raven Couriers: Leave at sunup, there by nightfall.™ (Disclaimer: this is not a guarantee of one night service. We do not travel by night. What, do you think we’re crazy?)

Their job done, they take a look at the statue of Three Oaks Junction’s founder. It’s a drow! There’s two captions, a rather short one in Valdian and a much longer one in the Drow language.

Valeria reads off the Valdian: THREE OAKS // TOWN FOUNDER.

Clem can see the Drow caption has the elf’s full name: “Born to Clan Shenkel on a Rainy Night Under the Shelter of Three Oak Trees.” Ah, that’s where the town name comes from!

Clem’s pretty chuffed! “I’m very pleased to see people who aren’t averse to drow in this area! There’s even a statue, and not a burning heap where the statue used to be!”

The folks at the courier are happy to share the founding story. Three Oaks was a skilled wagon repair-person, and set up a wagon repair station at a good high-traffic spot. It became a local fixture, she eventually settled down and built a real shop, and that was the start of the town!

Clem knows: If drow know anything, it’s how to fix wagons. And care for horses. Good for this Three Oaks for making an opportunity of it!

Towering over the town, a distance from the main thoroughfares, is a large black and white striped tent. There’s a circus, scheduled for tonight! Valeria gets excited about the possibility of Night Circus.

Clem has never seen a circus. Gral has never seen a Valdian circus. Valeria has seen many traveling shows. Shoshana’s seen a couple significantly less fancy traveling shows. Flynn and Fiona are excited to go to the circus. Everybody’s like, yeah, let’s have a night off, let’s have fun!

We worry that Gral, as a performer, might be That Guy: “Their technique was horrible, frankly, I’ve seen better-”

We’re hype! Let’s get CIRCUS SNACKS. There’s spiced nuts and funnel cakes. Clem gets a funnel cake. Shoshana is deeply disappointed to learn that cotton candy has not been invented yet.

Valeria goes over to get some spiced nuts. The nuts stand is run by a red dragonborn, obviously named Bophades. (He tells us he has brothers, Joe and Ligma.)

Valeria doesn’t know how much to pay the guy, and we meme about it. How Much Could Nuts Cost, Clementine? One Gold? Ah, nobles.

A few performers are starting to walk around to work the crowd. Everything in the circus is black and white, like a fun theme. All the performers have pristine white facepaint.

We realize we should probably not bring Large Greatswords into a theater, so we stash Clem’s sword, Valeria’s tridents, and the Eyegis with Aethis. Hey, Aethis has the Eyegis, Valeria basically has a large lizard camera drone to look through! Cool. Valeria buys Aethis a live chicken as a snack, even though celestial steeds don’t need to eat. “We’ll come back soon, I love you~!”

Shoshana’s anxiety cloak is freaking out, but, like, it freaked out around the cool old lady too. Does this thing have a snooze button?

We all find our seats, passing around snacks and jostling with the crowd. Outside the sky is darkening, and Dancing Lights come up all around the tent, swirling and casting shadows. A ringmaster in a black-and-white jester’s motley comes out. The lights all focus around him,

“Hello, everyone,” he calls to the crows, in the practiced cadence of a seasoned performer. “We live in troubled times. This wood is not a very fine place. So tonight, in this tent, open your minds and your hearts and join me as I take you to a kingdom far away - yet as close as you allow it to be! First, walk with me as we approach the land of my king. We must approach the borders, guarded as they are!”

Braziers burst into flame all around the perimeter of the tent with a big oooh from the crowd! Jugglers begin tossing batons between them, forming a high arch, which the ringmaster walks under. “Cross the border with me!” he calls. “These woods are dangerous place, but my lord’s marksmen are expert.” Each baton is shot out of the air at the apex of their arch by an arrow! The jugglers catch them expertly, and demonstrate that each arrow has struck the dead center of a target painted on each baton!

Gral murmurs an aside: “I have the memories of every orc performer who ever lived, I’ve seen better, there was this one guy-”

Shoshana dope slaps him. Shut up and enjoy the show, doofus.

After a pause for the audience to applaud the archers, the jester continues. “And now, our master, my king, is building a bridge! A vast river lies before us!” Performers come out, shaking a long blue cloth between them. “But fear not, we will cross it!” A pair of strongmen start heaving around big ol’ beams of wood, while acrobats start making their way across the tops of the whirling beams in an impressive display of balance and coordination. The beams are moved into place, and one strongman lifts ringmaster with one hand up to them. The ringmaster mounts the ‘bridge’ and walks across. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bridge builders!”

There’s another round of applause. Clem and Valeria are enthusiastic. Even Gral is starting to get into it.

“But before we can approach the castle and visit my master’s court –” the jester warns us. We her galloping hooves (or possibly coconut shell) noises. “Ah, yes! Do you hear who’s come to greet us! The knights of the Black and White!” Everyone claps, the ringmaster throws something in the braziers, and the arena fills with smoke. As horses carrying stunt riders circle the big top, we must all make wisdom saves. Valeria is informed she may do so with proficiency. We’re all lucky enough to save, except Flynn.

As the smoke hits Valeria, she realizes – there’s something wrong here. Once tent has filled with smoke from the smoke bombs – it was to set up dramatic entrance, but…the ringmaster’s describing this glorious kingdom where nobody has to fear any death or dismemberment, where the power of his king is absolute. There’s something weird about the smoke. Something weird about the performers and their flickering shadows. She can’t quite place it...

The show has moved along. There’s a knife thrower, a fire breather, and a sword swallower performing now as the “village blacksmith” as the procession “approaches the court”. It’s a whole routine.

Something Is Wrong.

The ringmaster’s patter about this king has become increasingly creepy. Fiona is giving us the side eye. Meanwhile, Flynn and most of audience are slack jawed and enraptured. I mean, it’s a pretty impressive show, but the imagery is getting macabre.

The crowd is no longer applauding after each performance. Everyone is just sitting there, completely entranced. Clem murmurs, “Does this...usually happen at circuses?”

Valeria glances through the Eyegis. The camp outside is perfectly normal, no fires or thieves or anything this might be a distraction from. She cuts back to the here and now.

Right now there’s two guys with halberds, with acrobats dancing on tips, performing as the “castle guards.” Shoshana pokes Flynn, who doesn’t react at all as he stares unblinking at the black-and-white figures. Fiona scoffs - just a poke? Please - and slugs her brother in the stomach. He snaps out of his trance as he gasps for breath, sputtering “WHAT WHY WOULD Y-mmph!” as she slaps a hand over his mouth and shushes him.

Gral hisses, “If we make a scene, they’ll know. Pretend like you’re watching the performance!”

We all perception check. Gral figures it out: the entire time, those dancing lights and braziers have been casting wild, flickering shadows of the rapidly moving acrobats and the people in costume armor But he gets clear look under the acrobats for just one second, and realizes: they’re casting the shadows of skeletons.

These are undead. The king the ringmaster wants us to visit is none other than the Pale King himself.

Clem is very glad she kept her warhammer on her.

There’s maybe 80-100 people in audience. If we act, the civilians might be collateral damage.

The bad guys wouldn’t know us by look. Maybe we pretend to be enraptured like the rest of audience and wait for them to reveal their big plan. That, or we could just rush the guy leading circus.

The ringmaster is narrating entering the castle gates. The smoke started the process, but clearly the performance has something to do with keeping it going. Shoshana’s all for casting Shatter into the center of the ring - maybe a loud enough noise will wake up the audience. Valeria’s not sure.

Gral and Valeria want to wait and see; Clem and Shoshana want to disrupt the performance before they finish enthralling the audience. Valeria’s player flips us a coin. Our answer? Disrupt.

We refocus in on the plot of the show. The audience has been invited into the great hall, and a feast has been laid out for us – there’s a huge table, with acrobats and jugglers doing a routine where they’re tossing around plates and chairs. We have to roll deception, and we do good enough that they don’t notice we’re snapped out of it, but the ringmaster is definitely scanning the crowd for anyone who’s not under yet.

At this point, the macabre stuff has become overt. The “castle servants” are setting plates with skulls and crawling hand bones. It’s Obvious Curse at this point. We agree that this is a really cool, goth circus theme, but we would prefer it to maybe...not end with the whole crowd becoming zombies?

Gral decides to Dispel Magic the smoke. To hell with subtlety, we’re going for disruption. He stands up and strikes an echoing POWER CHORD!!! Rolling well, he dispels the effect of the smoke, shouting, “The show is over!”

As he strikes his lute, a tangible soundwave goes out through the audience. A ripple goes through the smoke, and it starts to fade. The Dancing Lights flicker and come back up. With the spell gone, we can see clearly: the performers are still dressed up, but the acrobats, strongmen, etc. are all visibly rotting or skeletal.

The crowd, suddenly jerked out of the mass charm effect, predictably panics.

The ringmaster turns and looks directly at Gral. In his ringing showman’s voice, he bellows, “GET THEM. THE KING COMMANDS IT.”

Shoshana centers a Shatter on the table full of dancing acrobats, trying to get as many low level undead as she can. Bone shards fly everywhere as all but one of the skeletons explode into bits, with a deafening BOOM that drowns out the circus music. A shame, since this is a dope-ass circus.

(The DM comments: If we’d let it get to end, it would have definitely gotten a bit King in Yellow. We drew a red card at the end of last session, so we get to meet an Avatar of the Curse. This here is the Ringmaster, also known as The Fool.)

Clem, Valeria, and the Fairgolds dash toward the Ringmaster. Valeria has her adamantine wrench. Clem has her warhammer. Fiona has hers, too. Just three super buff ladies with hammers…and Flynn.

“I’ve got an aesthetic, it’s called Swashbuckler? We don’t use hammers!”

“If he used a hammer, he’d be a Squashbuckler.”

“Or a Smashbuckler?”

“That’s alright,” he quips, summoning his pistol, “I’ve got another kind of hammer I can use…”

(”Is it his penis?” asks everyone who has ever seen Dr. Horrible.

“It’s the HAMMER OF THE GUN, it’s not his penis!” sighs the DM.)

Shoshana aims another Shatter on the remaining zombie strongmen and their table, but they have better CON than a bunch of bones, so it doesn’t have quite the dramatic effect. Flynn shoots the Ringmaster with his pistol. As the shot hits home, he drops the pistol and snaps his fingers, a second pistol materializing in his hand. This time the shot goes wild.

The Fool howls, “GET THEM!” and the two strongmen rush at our tanks, picking up chunks of table to wallop our melee fighters with, mumbling “In the name of the king!” in their garbled zombie voices. The Fool begins to rise into the air, which is never a good sign. He points at Shoshana and in an echoing voice demands she KNEEL. She flips him off. She ain’t kneeling for no floaty-ass pale-faced clown!

Gral Banes the strongmen and the acrobat. The zombies are zom-baned. Clem sees them waiting to clobber her with chunks of table and is like “I can take ‘em,” and rushes in, carving a chunk out of the nearest one. The zombies don’t seem to be trying to defend themselves - they’re just balls of rotting meat in between us and the real threat. I mean, they’re swinging broken table legs at us, but they’re whiffing hard. Valeria casts Shield of Faith on herself and Cone of Colds them. One save, one fail. Thanks, Bane! (”I love Bane!” “I love you too, citizens of Gotham!”) The one who failed its save and got Clemmed is bloodied. Fiona, raging, does 35 damage in a single turn and bloodies the other strongman. Her mouth is open like a battle-frenzy scream, but it’s just coming out as a hiss.

Shoshana takes a thrown knife from the last skeleton acrobat, and brushes it off. Then she realizes that unlike the others who charged in, she and Gral are still in the middle of the crowd. A crowd that is freaking the fuck out.

Shoshana promptly takes more damage from getting Crowd Trampled than she has from the actual enemies. (Gral gets buffeted around, too, but at least he stayed standing.)

Hey, did you know that The Fool gets lair actions? Arrows, like the ones that shot down the jugglers’ batons, fly in, targeting Gral, Clem, and Fiona. They even seem to change direction in midair to target him. These are ghost arrows! (Which does make the whole baton trick less impressive in hindsight. Cheaters.)

Shoshana staggers to her feet and throws a Chromatic Orb of acid at the Fool. Flynn’s sword burns with green flames as he brings it down on a strongman zombie. The flame spreads between them and burns at their rotted flesh. One of ‘em nearly smacks Clem, but Gral’s Bane comes to the rescue, and Valeria gets to Sentinel him! She brings the adamantium wrench down on him with two hands. CRONCH.

Strong Boi #2 punches Flynn in the face – or tries. “Ha! My sister punches better than that!”

The zombie is like, “We’re fighting your sister! That’s a compliment!” Or it would, if this was The Road to El Dorado. Mostly it just grunts.

The Fool gestures grandly, and we all must make Charisma saves. Shoshana and Fiona fail and are Baned. (Hey, no fair using our own tactics on us!) Also, he’s calling reinforcements. We hear the hoofbeats of the stunt horsemen as they charge back into the arena. Without the obscuring magic of the smoke, we can clearly see these are skeletal steeds, ridden by terrible, ethereal spectres waving big ol’ cavalry sabers. They are not headless horsemen; they have heads. We vow to change that.

(These are Sword Wraiths, for anyone who’s keeping track. Also, shout out to Skeleton Horse from our last campaign, forever in our hearts.)

Gral Phantasmal Forces one of the strongmen. The zombie hears a terrible crunchin’ noise. In his mind, the nearly destroyed table has come to life! The shards of wood invert inward, and now there’s a big mouth chompin’ at him! He turns around and starts fighting a table. The Ringmaster facepalms.

Clem channels the scalpel ghost and makes an excellent medicine check. Professor Wendell hmms, and points out a weak spot on the one Gral has just targeted. Clem pops the darn thing’s skull like a weird melon. He died, knowing he was getting eaten by a table. RIP.

Valeria tries to charge past the other strongman, but takes a solid hit of opportunity and gets knocked to the ground. She gets back up and returns the favor. The acrobat skeleton - oh, we forgot about that guy - throws more knives! Have a Knife Day, Valeria. (It doinks off her armor harmlessly.) Fiona smacks at the last big fella.

The spectral riders form a second barrier between the tanks and the Fool as the strongmen fall. They throw some spears at Clem and Flynn.

The crowd knocks Shoshana over again. This is how she ends: stepped on by frightened civilians in a puddle of popcorn. You’re all gosh darn lucky she hasn’t gone evil yet.

The DM makes a Secret Roll. It’s a success! Valeria’s the first to hear the result, a thudding of claws on hard-packed dirt, and then we see the crowd parting as Aethis the war gator charges toward us, bringing our weapons. They wanted to help! They did a good job!!! We’d give them scritches but we’re, like, in a fight.

We get hit by more ghost arrows, and then Shoshana drags herself to her feet and twins another Chromatic Orb, shooting lightning at both of the spectral riders, who up close look like elven nobles. She then hides behind a chair, in the vague hope that no one else will stomp on her. Flynn stabs one of the riders with his green-flamed rapier, and the flame flickers between both of them.

The remaining strongboi hits Valeria for a big slam, but no one’s looking at them anymore. The Ringmaster, hovering above, begins to distort his body horribly. He distends his limbs, extending his body to spidery and unnatural proportions, and leers at us all with a manic, wild grin. The melee fighters all make WIS saves. Valeria and Flynn are now Frightened of him. As his lips stretch into an even wider rictus, his head rotates on its neck in a deeply unnatural way and his fingerbones stretch out into slender, vicious claws.

Gral inspires Clem, and Dissonant Whispers the strongman. It instantly drops dead. (”You scared a zombie to death. Metal AF.”) The spectral riders close ranks with their shields, forming a barrier between the melee fighters and the Fool, but Clem and Dr. Wendel are READY TO OPERATE! Clem misses one, but maneuvers on attack 2 to try to trip a skeleton horse. Action Surge! She crits the ghost to death, exploding it into mist, its horse falling apart into an inert pile of bones. Her final attack goes to the other horseman with a Distracting Strike. I mean, she did just pulverize his buddy, that’s pretty distracting.

Valeria is afeared of the Creepy Jester (which is taxonomically distinct from a creepy clown, we are told to note.) She takes the opportunity to Lay On Hands herself. The DM is kinda surprised that paladins don’t have resistance to fear in 5e. OH HI AETHIS!!!! They’ve run up to Valeria with her sword and shield. What a good gator!!!! Valeria grabs the Eyegis, and her AC goes back up.

The lone skeleton acrobat is like why r u guise ignoring me??? and throws a knife at Clem. We continue to ignore it. Fiona charges the ringmaster, Clem continues to duel the remaining rider, and the unforgiving crowd continues to trample Gral and Shoshana.

Clem, Fiona, and Flynn all take hits from the ghost arrows. Fiona shrugs it off, but Flynn’s not looking too hot. Shoshana chugs a healing potion (because of freakin’ CROWD DAMAGE!) and dives behind a tent pillar.

The Fool cackles eerily, and everybody under 10 health must make CON save. He was trying to give us all taint, but everybody affected manages to save. He swipes at Fiona with his Horrible Claws, but she blocks with her hammer.

Gral Dissonant Whispers the remaining rider, who nat-1s. It’s scared bad, and Clem does the honors, catching it with her hammer as it passes by. “AH-AH, YOU ARE NOT DISCHARGED!” cries Dr. Wendell. As it flees, the ghost dissipates, and horse tumbles into a mess of bones, carried forward by its own momentum.

Now it’s Clem’s proper turn, and she’s gonna hit the Fool!!!! But first, Second Wind. Miss one, hit one, MANEUVER! Trip Attack! She knocks him prone!

Valeria rides Aethis to the Fool, then dismounts, and Aethis dashes to get to the acrobat. Valeria brings her wrench down on the Fool. She Smites him good. (He is undead, so smite does a Lot.) He makes a goofy OOF! Sound and begins to wriggle up from the ground, and then she just SLAMS him back down. Flattened. After a hit like that, I almost PITY the Fool.

Look, SOMEONE was gonna make that joke.

The acrobat throws knives at Valeria! It crits, but like, it’s a knife. Valeria doesn’t care. Fiona drops one warhammer and just pins the Fool on the ground, grappling him. Raging, she gets advantage. Pinning him down with one arm, she swings her hammer down with the other. He contorts oddly, moving out of the way of one blow, but gets hit by her second slam.

The ghost arrows are back! They all target Fiona. As the arrows slam into her back, she just grits her teeth and takes it. Barbarians, man. Shoshana’s shot goes wide on the Fool as she snipes from afar. Flynn saves against his Frightened condition and starts escorting the last few crowd members out of the tent.

The Fool tries to contort out of Fiona’s grapple, but she keeps an iron grip on his wriggling limbs. Gral decides to join the melee party and stab with his Psychic Blades, finishing off the avatar of the Pale King. The circle of phantom orc warriors again rushes in as one. As he slices into the Fool with his sickle, the jester’s costume tears like a cloth bag, and a bunch of choking black mist bubbles out and away. Inside, there are only the barest, faintest hints of a skeletal form. His weird painted skull rolls away, a head in a jester’s cap locked in a rictus grin jingling absurdly across the big top.

Aethis swats the skeleton acrobat with its tail. It’s dead now.

The circus is silent. The last vestiges of the strange mist are blowing away. The tent is eerie, dark and cold.

Valeria makes a knowledge!Religion check. With the context that this was a weird Pale King thing, she realizes what was bothering her at the start of performance: she’s never been to a circus or play that didn’t open with an invocation to Guile, the god of trickery, illusion, and the arts.

Shoshana lies on the ground grumpily. Aethis comes over and offers a friendly shoulder to help her up. Shosha is like O__O because she’s looking into a massive faceful of teeth, but gingerly accepts the help up after being nudged and sniffed a bit.

Those ghost arrows were flying in from backstage. Let’s check out backstage! We find some quivers sitting there, but the arrows seem to be inert now that the Fool is dead. There are a few musical instruments in the hands of some deactivated skellies and zoms, collapsed awkwardly to the floor. There’s lots of props, costumes, makeup - all the regular circus stuff, including a tour map of places they’ve been. One more for Valeria’s collection!

We find some high-quality stage makeup, which seems a little magic. It might channel illusion magic particularly well? Gral takes a crack at understanding it. It’s not itself a magic item, but it’s designed as a good conduit for illusion spells. Gral takes it. It has 5 charges of enhancing illusion spells. Valeria takes one of the charges. We find some finely ground crystal, which seems to be what was thrown into the braziers. Valeria takes it.

We also have the creepy elongated skull of the Fool. Clem only wants it because her player used to be our party warlock. Fiona wants to smash it. We COULD bring it to the Cursebreakers, like responsible adults, but we’re all like SMASH IT SMASH IT WOOOOOO

We also find a throne on a litter, under a sheet. Is there something on the throne?

Valeria Detects Magic. There’s a lingering magic clinging to it, but fading rapidly. (The makeup and throne have a lot of Illusion and Enchantment; there’s a lot of necromancy generally everywhere.) Shoshana lifts the sheet with her stick. There’s a skeleton sitting in the throne. Not even an animated one. It’s wearing a very nice costume robe and has a crown on its head. Clearly, it’s meant to represent the Pale King, and the culmination of the circus act’s plot, but whatever power it once held was probably coming from the Fool. It’s inert now. We smack it with sticks. It engages in normal skeleton behavior. We want it to be on the floor in pieces, which it finds perfectly doable.

We snag some posters labeled “Feste’s Circus Presents: Journey to the Great Court” and start to head out.

We roll against Taint, but we’re fine. The initial Wis save against the smoke was the big taint risk - getting drawn into story could have been a disaster.

Gral theorizes on what exactly the Fool’s gambit was. There was spell worked into the performance. Its effects weren’t physical, like the disease in Mornheim. This was more like an elaborate, highly modified Mass Suggestion, bringing the people into a susceptible state and then implanting the idea of the glory and power of the Pale King. This wasn’t an attempt to make more undead; this was an attempt to indoctrinate more cultists.

As we exit the tent we remember - oh, right, there’s a big crowd panicking.

Luckily, we have a charismatic and noticeable person with us. A Large Shiny Paladin Riding a Fancy Magic-gator shouting “There is no more threat here, everything has been taken care of, let us talk to the sheriff,” definitely helps - people don’t necessarily believe her, but they’ll obey and let themselves get corralled. Flynn, very experienced in the public relations aspect of monster-fightin’, helps wrangle and pacify the crowd.

The sheriff of Three Oaks Junction has been summoned, and pushes through the nervous crowd to Valeria. “Kyr, thank you, I hear you’ve save us all – what do we do about this???”

Valeria puts on her best commanding voice. “The villainous troop itself has been dealt with; we have no idea if there is any other magical danger in the tent. Is it safe to burn it down?”

The Sheriff nods. “Oh, ya, local fire ordinances meant we had enough clearance around it; nothing else’ll catch.”

We get the townsfolk well clear of the area, and then Shoshana, whose player is appeased that she won’t start a godawful circus tent fire like in that documentary she saw once, Fireballs it. The tent burns merrily.

Flynn nods to his sister; it’s time for him to do what he does best. He rolls a decent performance check and steps into his role as Radiant Knight, dramatically recounting the battle for the shaken crowd. He focuses on making all of us look good, which is really nice! He lights up his sword with Green-Flame Blade as he gestures around with it, which is an excellent visual effect. He’s framed in front of the burning fire of the tent, and Gral performs an exciting score of back-up musical accompaniment.

“And then Kyr Argent strode forward, her sword flashing...”

(whispers) “I wasn’t using my sword”

“Ssshhh, it fits better, he’s embellishing.”

As camera pans up, following the smoke into the starry skies over the Cursewood, we end session.

#session recap #mornheim #three oaks junction #gral omokk'duu #clem haxan #valeria argent #shoshana bat chaya #flynn fairgold #fiona fairgold #The Pale King

1 note · View note

smithloud-blog · 5 years

Text

Essential CBD Extract

Essential CBD Extract Reviews – CBD Oil for Pain and Anxiety Treatment!

Leading a healthy life is something which we all want, isn’t it? What Essential CBD Extract do you imagine the level of complexities which are involved in the human body? Well, considering this, it is extremely difficult to take care of your health unless you are a physicist or a nutritionist. In the case of lack of knowledge about how you can give the best to yourself, it is very important to that you take the help of certain supplement which guarantees you better health. For instance, today we will be talking about a new supplement launched in the market called Essential CBD Extract. Let us look at the details of this supplements to find out whether it will be worth a purchase or not.

If you are aware of biological terms, then you might be knowing what the endo cannabinoid system means. However, if you do not know what is the system called as ECS, then let us elaborate. Ranging from your sleep schedule to your metabolism, everything is regulated by your ECS. Therefore, it is very important that your ECS functions as it is supposed to. Otherwise, you can suffer from many neurological as well as physical disorders.

Regulation and management of ECS seem as complex as it should be. However, when you take Essential CBD it will regulate your ECS to the point when you will no longer have to risk any part of your health to deadly diseases. If you feel that you suffer from pain here and there, or if you have any sort of sleep disorders, then the endo cannabinoid system might be the one to blame. After all, we are no scientist and hence we do not really know how to regulate the mechanism which affects our health. But when you have Essential CBD Extract with you, you will be eliminating these pain forever.

Apart from this, people who suffer from sleeplessness, anxiety or inflammation are also suspected to have a defected endo cannabinoid system. If you suspect that you are facing these symptoms, then there is no need for you to waste a lot of money on getting doctor appointments. You can simply make the use of this supplement and notice a visible difference in all these aspects. Now let’s take a look at the different benefits which you will be receiving the help of this supplement.

How Does Essential CBD Extract Work?

By providing the necessary support which your ECS needs, Essential CBD Hemp Oil acts as the greatest supplement one can ever require. By regulating almost all the functions of your body, it completely transforms your overall well being due to which you can easily live the life which you want. Sometimes pain and nausea can cause many problems. Due to this, the person remains very disturbed throughout the day, with no flexibility and mobility to go here and there. And obviously, nobody deserves to live a life like this. And therefore, you should give yourself a treatment which is not only effective but also safe.

Essential CBD Extract

After finding out the amazing benefits which Essential CBD Oil will have on your different body parts, we are so you are interested in purchasing the product. After all, where will you find such an amazing product at such a low cost? We are very sure that such an opportunity will not cross your path again. So if you have got something like this and if you are reading this article till now, then it is essential that you find out until the end where you can purchase it. By regulating all the functions of the system, not only will your health be improved significantly, but your energy levels and metabolic rate will also rise.

Just like other normal diseases, cancer is also becoming very common these days. It is because of the poor Lifestyle that we lead, and we are not able to take proper care of our health. However, ignoring the many aspects of your health is not at all healthy. Since your body is so Complex, you need to give a treatment to it so that all the parts of the body can benefit.

What can be a better treatment than this supplement? We are sure you are running short of other options. To make sure that the cancer cells in your body are made to be effective, all the eurogenerative disorders are treated and the sleep cycle is revised, it is very important that you use this supplement as per the directions which are provided.

Benefits of Essential CBD Extract:

Brain:

It will help to eliminate depression or anxiety It takes care of the neurotransmitters by making them more stronger It acts as a great antioxidant Eyes:

It also protects the eyes by acting as a great Vasorelaxant Heart:

It possesses amazing anti-inflammatory It also prevents the production of plaque in the arteries Intestines:

Having an abundance of anti prokinetic properties, it supports the small as well as the large intestine. Bones and stomach:

Strengthens the bones to the very core so that you do not have to suffer from any pain Supports the stomach by controlling appetite and nausea So do you see what all the endocannabinoid system can affect? If you feel that you are suffering from the majority of the symptoms stated above, then you need to add Essential CBD Extract to your diet. With the affordable treatment available to users by sitting at home, there is no need for you to visit any doctor regularly. With the regular consumption of this supplement, you can easily get rid of all these symptoms and lead a life which is not only free of diseases but also healthy the way you want it to be!

Why Should you Choose Essential CBD Extract?

Before you choose any supplement, it is always beneficial if you consider its alternatives available. However, it is also very important that you find out what makes a supplement special for you to purchase. In case of this one, you have a variety of reasons why you should be referring this one over the others available.

The most important thing here is that Essential CBD Extract does not contain any side effects. Due to the presence of only natural ingredients available in the supplement, it is ensured that no Side Effects will take place. It is only made of natural Herbs and medicinal plants due to which you get a safe treatment.

In addition to this, it is also very inexpensive. The manufacturers of this supplement wanted to make sure that all society people can purchase it, therefore they have kept the price to the minimum. This means that you can take the benefits of this supplement without having to worry about your pocket.

In addition to this, the supplement is also very effective. With regular consumption for just a few days, you will be noticing considerable differences in terms of nausea, pain, inflammation and other symptoms of a damaged endocannabinoid system.

How to Use Essential CBD Extract?

To make sure that you do not suffer from neurological disorders like anxiety and depression. To live a life which is free from inflammation and joint pains. To provide the most support to your stomach and intestine. And to make sure that your eyes and brain have the proper support that they require, it is very important that you use this product as per the directions which are provided. Due to an all natural formula which you will be getting at such a low cost, there is no need for you to consult any doctor about the usage of this product.

However, we cannot provide you the exact direction of use. These directions will be available to you on the package when you purchase the supplement. Even though the supplement contains only natural ingredients, it will be beneficial for you to check the list and find out if there is something which you are allergic to.

In case of any allergic reactions or if you were suffering from any severe disease, the advice of a doctor is mandatory. So if you are finally interested in purchasing the supplement, find out where you can do so at the lowest cost.

Where to Buy Essential CBD Extract?

The best news for you is that you do not have to spend large amounts of money on Essential CBD Extract as you would have to do on other treatments. To make sure that all the people of the society can benefit from great and natural supplements like this, the manufacturers have placed the cost to a low minimum. Therefore, no matter what, you can save money while you were regulating your ECS and reinventing yourself!

To purchase Essential CBD Extract at the maximum guarantee and at the lowest cost possible, go to the online website today! From there, you can easily place the order by fulfilling certain criteria. After that, the product will be delivered to you at your home within just a few days. Experience the product yourself and let us know what you think about it.Read More>>> https://www.supplementsmegamart.com/essential-cbd-extract/

#essentialcbdextract #healthtips #healthyliving #healthcarewellness

1 note · View note

eidolonpath · 5 years

Photo

and change can’t always be for the best, especially when the brother becomes a beast and you have to mourn the missed.

Surprisingly, Eidolon does know how to let loose and have fun. You’ve never seen so many thrown thistles and fruit cubes in your life (the latter would never be restored, the children had been warned, and they whined for days after their conquests and battles), and that sword fight? You don’t care if they weren’t real blades, they sure felt like it. A fire could have been started from that wood hitting wood, for gods’ sake. You’re surprised that one of the weapons didn’t splinter to pieces at all. It had been an eventful few days, this one being no exception of that. As you lie down and stare up, you wonder just how much you’re going to manage to do tomorrow. Maybe you’ll try the baker’s “Snowdrop Loaves”, even though the thought of flowers in bread seemed confusing. First times all around, hm? Your eyes close slowly, slowly, and you drift…

… … ...

It’s well into the day by the time you wake up, sun shining through the window and trying to wake you from your overdone slumber. A mumble. You might as well get ready and get to work— it’s late, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t get a few hours in. Time to freshen up and head out to the great outdoors of the Great White…

When you exit your bunkhouse, there is no warmth in the wind, no melodic children’s laughter nor clash of wood on wood. You don’t smell the scent of freshly baked bread or see anyone walking out to the docks— in fact, it seems like no one really wants to move at all. Small crowds dot the area, faces forlorn and worried as the speak in hushed whispers amongst each other, uneasy and clearly afraid. This wasn’t part of the festival, was it? No, surely not. It couldn’t be.

Those blood stains on the fountain were definitely not part of the celebration.

“What are we going to do?” You hear someone say. “W-we can’t fix this. Penuel was the one that did the fixing! What if he—”

“Don’t even start with that.” Another voice, cutting in with an aggressive but clearly desperate kind of tone. “He can’t. He’ll pull through. Everyone always does. Why in the world would he even think of leaving Premo behind?” A huff. “I don’t think Premo is skilled enough to treat him, I—”

“What, are you?” Another joins the fray, hand taking hold of the previous speaker’s collar. “Just stop it. The only reason why I haven’t punched you is because the Warmhouse has enough to deal with right now.” The individual is let go. “Gods. Whistles? Here? Now? It’s barely the beginning of spring.”

Before you can eavesdrop any more, someone rushes past you, not even bothering to give an excuse me or apology before they’re gone, running past the village limits, some others also following in tow. You note how something by their belts had reflected the light of the sun so acutely. Swords.

Talk about a celebration, huh? You had spoken too soon apparently: even without getting the whole story it’s clear that everything’s a mess. Everyone’s so uneasy. With the thick in the air, you start to wonder if your own tools of combat are up to the standard of whatever’s out there. A blink— agh.

There’s this awful ringing in your ears, something dissonant but symphonic all the same, wordless, ominous, alluring. The sound, it’s so clear. Something like…

… whistling.

… … ...

It’s clear that the festival is over, even though its end was undoubtedly premature and unplanned. While the decorations remain up, the zeal and cheer has died down into tense whispers and distressed looks.

Everyone is on edge, and really, you’re no different, especially since no one has bothered to give you any sort of explanation yet for what the hell was going on. Where was the danger? What could be done about it? Was this the end as everyone knew it? Surely you couldn’t be the only person with this on your mind, but everyone’s too disoriented to come together and agree. It’s miserable. The hours pass agonizingly slow, like a spoon trying to slog its way through a pot of molasses, until someone walks past you.

“The mayor is having a meeting in the village square.” The stranger’s expression is grave, tone serious. “You’d best be on your way now.”

You can’t argue with that. A moment of mental prep and you’re off, footsteps carrying an uncertainty that fits well with the stone that sits so precariously in your gut. Everyone in the village is here— but this time, it isn’t for anything pleasant. At the center of the hubbub is the ever covered up mayor, with a tall ginger-haired woman standing beside him, an odd look in her eye.

“I… apologize, for the complications that have arisen during this celebration.” Adonis starts softly, arms crossed and brows furrowed. “It appears that an old friend has decided to visit us early.”

“It’s characteristic of them to crash in uninvited, those whistles.” The woman beside him speaks up, taking a step forward as she gently strokes the pelt wrapped around her neck. “Thankfully, their point of emergence seems to be relatively small. I’ll travel out with a group in order to cut off that point of invasion.” She smirks. “However, that means it will be up to all of you to fight off the ones that already roam the fields. Shouldn’t be a problem if you know what you’re doing. Can I trust you?”

Dead silence. She rolls her eye and spins the machete in her grip, before pointing the blade into the crowd, right at the man that you recognize as Lepton. “He’ll help you out. I’ve given him access to my arsenal, so, if you need anything for combat, it will be available to you. Information on the monsters can be given by Cato if you ask nicely.”

“…Thank you, Frederika.” Adonis chimes in again, trying to step into the picture once more. “Anyone that does not want to fight can focus on building defences around the village and also act as medical aid if you have any experience.

“Most importantly though, please stay safe.” He says, quieter, more solemnly. “Recklessness is more liable to make you incapacitated as compared to useful.”

As the crowd begins to thin out, you catch sight of green beginning to poke out of the snow in the lands beyond the village. This was the Great White’s way of giving a warm welcome, hm?

Happy spring, you guess.

❅ introduction:

Celebrations for Vivienne’s festival have been cut short in response to an emerging threat— the appearance of whistles. Released from the ice by a particularly strong melt that the Chymos did not predict, these creatures wander the Great White, seemingly aimless and capable of stealing your breath away. They are merciless, cold, and deadly if you manage to go unprepared out into those snowy fields. The whole village is on the defensive now, but it’s ultimately your choice on whether or not you stay around to bolster the residential limits or travel outwards to fight back the encroaching threat.

❅ what are whistles?

Plaintive creatures of the snow, these humanoid monsters are named after its mournful calls that resemble that of a whistle. It’s traded flesh for ice and dark crystal instead, stumbling around in tattered rags in search of an unsuspecting victim so that it can steal their soul. Will you be next?

Want to know more? Have a look in the bestiary to satiate your curiosity.

❅ activities:

Resource Collection: With whistles about in the Great White and encroaching on the village, some even destroying the stores of resources within Eidolon’s borders, the plentiful resources that were promised with the coming of spring are suddenly… lacking. With the guidance of Frederika, a path through the landscape has been carved towards the forest, to allow the collection of firewood, food, and materials for weaponry. The village has not had reason to use them for a long time, after all.

Defence Building: As whistles attempt to break through the village borders, the residents are desperate to protect their daily lives and begin their retaliation. Without a safe base of operation, though, this is near impossible. Large blocks of ice are being placed at the village entrance and outskirts to prevent any whistles from entering — if you have the strength, your service will be greatly appreciated.

Tool Repair: The structure of a whistle can be somewhat… perplexing. Because of the large crystals that sprout from their bodies, it takes little combat to damage a weapon. Moreover, with the vast amount of construction and collection that needs to be done, many tools are quickly chipped, cracked and unusable. If you’re particularly handy, take your own tools in hand and use them to defend the village — and those who protect it.

Bodyguarding: Not everyone is able to defend themselves while carrying out their duties in and around the village, with the threat of the whistles looming over them. This is where bodyguards come in. Accompany someone gathering herbs for the physician’s assistant, or someone seeking to restore a broken house on the border of the village. Chances are there is always someone in need of protection, especially in times like these.

Whistle Hunting: Frederika and the other hunters are hard at work, pursuing whistles to protect the village from the threat of these unsettling monsters. Whether you wish to use your own weapons or those from Frederika's armory, those able and willing to hunt whistles—alone or in a small group—should do so. Perhaps when this is all over, you will get your due reward.

Medical Assistance: The settlement's doctor, Penuel, is gravely injured. Thus the medical duties fall on his assistant, Premo. Unfortunately, there is only so much one person can do when it comes to helping out an entire village — especially one where so many are in danger. Collecting herbs and other ingredients would be a huge help, as would be making salves and bandages to stabilize the wounded. If you happen to be half a doctor yourself, well… another pair of hands would be appreciated.

❅ new locations:

Mourner’s Grotto: Worryingly close to the village, this hole in the ground seems almost grave-like with its near perfect rectangular shape and “human” size. While frozen over for a majority of the year, its recent opening has caused a fair amount of distress at the monstrous whistles that have crawled up from the depths below. With the amount of creatures that can emerge from it, there are rumors that its caves are never ending. Detours are extremely recommended in order to avoid any threats that you are unprepared to face.

Lelantos’ Grip: You’ve probably heard passing mentions of a certain hunter’s guild and its extensive armory; after all, hunting keeps the village safe from posing threats and the people fed when the winter is too harsh. Run by Frederika, you can find Lelantos’ Grip not far from Pheri’s Cornerstore. With a large interior made of wood and plain stone, hunting trophies are wherever you turn -- the place isn’t supposed to be pretty, as its main goal is to guard the ever-growing collection of weapons, and offer sparring lessons here and there. If you’re in need of weapons, survival tips and hunting lessons, or even someone to spar with and keep the rust at bay, then this is the place for you. If fighting or crafting weapons isn’t for you, worry not: if you know how to strike up a good deal you might get some lessons on poison-making from Frederika herself.

These locations can be found on the locations document.

❅ event schedule:

The second part of the event will last for two weeks, from apr.19.19 18:00 EST to may.03.19 23:59 EST. Starters for both parts of the event may be written up until the event ends at midnight on May 3rd. Any threads may be freely continued afterwards, but no new starters may be written.

EDIT: And due to popular demand, the event has been extended another week. The event will now end on may.10.19 23:59 EST. Starters for both parts of the event can be written up until then, so make sure to start your threads if you want to participate!

All information can be found in our masterpost of all parts of the event. As always, participation is completely optional. May the path you tread be free of bloodshed; may your wishes have been worth it.

#eido events #eido event: vivienne's festival

8 notes · View notes

twinkletoes-rp · 5 years

Text

Wolf’s Rain: Bloodied Chances Ch. 3 - Patchwork

(Can also read on FFN / AO3 / Previous / Next)

Letting them talk, Kiba does his best to set out everything he thinks they’ll need for now on the clean bag. Realizing he’s severely unqualified for this particular job, though, he turns to his packmates. “I don’t…know what to do with this,” he admits, only a little bit sheepish. “Do you?”

Tsume looks annoyed and disgusted with himself. He really wishes he’d paid more attention to his human underlings in the old world… “N-not really, no...”

Hige crosses his arms and hums as he thinks back, closing his eyes in concentration. “Actually…I might know a thing or two. There were always kids getting hurt in Freeze City, and if it was bad enough, their moms always cleaned and bandaged their wounds with stuff like this. I can’t be that bad, at least.” He holds out his hands to Kiba. “Let me give it a shot.” Sensing their hesitation, he pouts and holds up his hands in his own defense. “Hey, it’s better than what you two’re offering, right? We gotta do something.” A moment later, he sighs softly through his nose and reasons, “Look, I’m not gonna do anything crazy. Hell, you know I wouldn’t hurt the kid if my life depended on it.” He reaches out again. “Come on, trust me.”

Tsume and Kiba lock eyes. This really is the best shot they have, and nervous about these supplies or not, they trust Hige, and they can’t let Toboe get worse. They are not losing him again.

Handing over a clean cloth and ‘the clear stuff that smells like cleaning supplies’ (hydrogen peroxide) as requested, Hige goes about quickly and carefully cleaning around the wound, just to be safe. He winces whenever he causes Toboe any pain, but Tsume gently shushes the boy and holds his hand tighter, and Toboe always calms and leans toward the sound of his voice. Kiba and Hige silently can’t help but think it’s freakin’ adorable.

While pouring the hydrogen peroxide on a clean cloth, Hige warns, “This stuff bubbles up in the worst wounds and makes the kids cry, so it’ll probably be painful for him. But from what I heard the moms tell their kids, it keeps it from getting infected and kills anything that might be trying to attack it already, so it’s really important.” Looking down at Toboe, adoring pride lights his eyes. “The runt’s strong, though. He can handle it for sure.” Glancing over, he suggests with an encouraging smile, “Hey, Kiba, maybe you should hold his other hand. I’m sure that’ll make him feel better.”

Kiba blinks, the lightest of unsure-yet-touched blushes on his face, but he nods and goes along with it anyway. He’ll do anything to make their youngest feel better. Toboe, sensing his presence, turns his head halfway toward him and seems to relax that much more. Kiba, despite his usual stoic demeanor, all but melts. “It’ll be okay, Toboe,” he tells him quietly. “We’re right here with you.”

Positioning the doused towel on the backside of Toboe’s wound, wincing when Toboe hisses lightly at even that, Hige cautions, “I don’t know how he’ll react once it really starts hurting. All the human kids were different. But with a wound like this, we might have to hold him down.” A heartbeat, swallow. “Here goes.”

The clear liquid splashes all around the wound, moves inside and straight through, soaking the towel underneath with blood and white foam and a horrible stench. Toboe immediately cries out, jerking his leg away on reflex, trying to pull away from the hands holding his, gritting his teeth and clawing at them lightly, but Tsume and Kiba just hold on tighter with both of theirs. Hige keeps hold of his leg, grimacing at what he’s seeing with the injury. He thinks he might be sick. “K-keep holding him! Once it stops bubbling, I’ll have to rinse it with this stuff that smells like seawater. Then maybe this stuff again if it’s still in danger of being infected, but I hope not. If we do, hopefully it’s just one more time.”

Tsume and Kiba do their best, Hige watching the wound closely. Toboe whimpers and almost sobs, then does, a few pained tears running down his face. Tsume can feel his heart breaking, gritting his teeth and growling low in his throat. He hates this. “Damn it, Hige, how much longer?!” he demands, doing his best not to shout for Toboe’s sake, but his patience is wearing thin. It feels like they’re torturing the poor kid!

“Just a few—! There!” Hige says, sighing in relief and wiping some sweat from his brow. “It’s stopped for sure now.” Taking a breath, he picks up the saline solution and looks between the two of them. “We can give him a breather for a minute or we can keep going, rip it off all at once like a Band-aid. This shouldn’t burn, I don’t think, at least not much, but I don’t know if we’ll have to use the other stuff again. What d’ya wanna do?”

Tsume’s gut twists at the idea of causing Toboe any more pain, but he doesn’t want to draw it out either. A shaky exhale. “All at once.” His eyes flick to Kiba. “Fearless leader?” There’s a hint of mirth in his voice despite the situation.

Kiba gives him a deadpan look. “I’m not the leader, Tsume. We don’t have one, remember? And I’m certainly not fearless.” Something inside Tsume softens at that. That in itself is proof this isn’t the old world. Back there, at least in the beginning, Kiba would have said he wasn’t afraid of anything, not even dying. Now...his biggest fear is losing his friends. Again. A heartbeat. “But I’m with Tsume. Rip it off.”

Hige nods. “Good. That was my instinct, too.” Getting ready to pour, he stares hard at Toboe. “You can do this, kid. Here we go.”

This liquid, like Hige said, is much gentler than the last, something they’re all grateful for. Toboe still grinds his teeth and whimpers a bit, holding their hands a little tighter, but it’s most likely from the strange sensation and sensitive area than pain. Unfortunately, Hige doesn’t like the look of some white-yellow stuff gathering a little inside the wound, so he picks that away as best he can and then frowns sadly over at Toboe. “We gotta do the other stuff one more time. That stuff I just picked off might mean an infection’s already attacking him, but if we kill it now, it should be okay.” Unscrewing that bottle, he strokes Toboe’s knee. “Sorry, buddy. Hang in there. This should be the last time.” He hopes.

This time, as he thought it might be, the screaming is worse, sticks around, and Toboe’s fingernails, flickering between them and his real claws when he starts to lose control to his pain and panic, draw blood as they dig into Kiba and Tsume’s flesh. They barely feel a thing, though, concentrating on keeping Toboe calm, particularly as the screaming mixes with howling. Even Tsume’s having some trouble soothing him this time. The sound of his howl-cries and sobs and the sight and smell of his twisted expression and tears kill them all, but there’s nothing else they can do. They have to do this. If they don’t…well, they don’t want to think about it. They won’t think about it. They refuse.

Finally, the bubbling stops after concentrating where Hige saw the icky new stuff before, and Toboe is leagues better for the saline solution afterward. Once Hige dries the area around the wound, keeping the injury itself moist, he applies a smooth gauze pad to protect it and then secures it with rolled gauze.

Kiba and Tsume wait on bated breath for him to finish, Tsume busying himself by wiping away Toboe’s tears. “Sorry, runt…” he whispers, hating that they had to hurt him to help him. But he knows Toboe would be grateful, and he knows he’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving the kid’s life.

Finally, there’s a heavy sigh of relief. “Okay…” Hige breathes, wiping more sweat from his brow. He turns to them with a tired smile. It feels like he can breathe again. “That should do it for now. We’ll have to keep an eye on him, just in case, but with any luck, he’ll be able to heal fine from here on out. Hopefully, he’ll wake up soon, too.”

Squeezing Hige’s shoulder, Kiba smiles over at him, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you, Hige. That was amazing. Way better than anything I could’ve done.”

Tsume nods, the warmth in his expression, mostly his eyes, catching Hige off guard for a moment. “Same here. Thanks, Hige.” His eyes drift to Toboe, now soundly-sleeping, sweeping sweaty bangs from his forehead with gentle fingers. “Maybe now the kid can get some real rest and come back to us.”

Hige blinks at the praise for a minute before beaming, a happy pink tinting his cheeks. He nods emphatically. “H-hey, no problem! I just hope it was enough, never mind right! I’m goin’ off memory alone here,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile, “and from a past life, at that…”

Gesturing toward Toboe’s bandaged leg while he tidies up the workspace and sanitizes his hands, just in case, he says, “We’ll have to change the dressing often to keep away any chance of infection, especially if we see or smell any signs that it might be wearing out, but this should hold for a while.” He exhales again, still relieved, scratching his cheek. “Honestly, I’m just glad it’s not something more serious. I don’t really know anything about herbs or treating really deadly things like Toboe or the humans might.”

Then, that reminding him of something, he snaps his fingers. “Oh, that’s right! He clawed your hands, right? Did he get you too deep? I can patch those up while I’m at it, if ya want…”

Hours later, with Toboe still sleeping soundly and his dressing changed once, Tsume and Kiba duck out to go get some air and find some food. Tsume doesn’t want to leave Toboe, outright refuses at first, but Kiba and Hige manage to convince him (“Come on, Tsume, you know Toboe wouldn’t want you worrying yourself sick! How upset do you think he’d be if he found out you didn’t even take care of yourself while he was out?” – “He has a point, Tsume. You know Toboe doesn’t like making you worry. He’ll be fine with Hige for the few minutes we’ll be gone. If anything happens, Hige can call for us.” – “…Fine… But only a few minutes. Any longer, and you’ll find your own way back” – “Sure. Now let’s go”).

Not surprisingly at all, they’re back in record time. They spread the food between the three of them until they’ve had enough (making sure to save some for Toboe, of course, just in case he wakes up hungry), and after some additional guilting on Kiba’s part (for Tsume’s own good, he swears), the oldest wolves bask in the moonlight to gain back some of the strength they’ve lost today.

It’s comfortably cool and quiet and oddly peaceful. It’s…pretty nice, actually, Tsume admits to himself.

WHOOSH!

Hearing the sudden rush from behind them, both wolves immediately turn to see Hige in the doorway of the lean-to, the panic on his face making all the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end.

“Guys, I think something’s wrong with Toboe!”

#Wolf's Rain #Wolf's Rain fanfiction #Toboe #Tsume #Quent Yaiden #NOTE that the medical advice here is NOT what you should do if you have access to soap and clean water - BUT since they're in a #post apocalyptic world I figured they might not have that easily available so have to make do #And since Hige SEEMED to be observant and kind of a people watcher in Freeze City I figured it might make sense for him to be the #next best (at least first aid?) healer

4 notes · View notes

firelxrdsdaughter · 6 years

Text

A Foolish Undertaking Chp 9

Read it on A03!

Azula learns that she isn’t likely going home any time soon. (this one’s...really long gais. so I am putting it up here but might be easier to read on A03).

“What makes you think I will ever be a member of this secret…pai sho society of yours?”

Azula

“The breaks are bad, but they are clean.” The tingling, cold, sensation of the water that has been circling over her wounds dissipates, and Azula watches in fascination as the relatively old woman returns the water to the basin at the corner of the room. At her core she is, of course, mistrustful of the water bending peasants who generally lie at the furthest reaches of their borders. She’s never fought any of them save the Avatar’s travelling companion, and the girl had been deadly…

And even Azula could see that she was far from polished at the time.

None of this mistrust means that she does not find interest in other bending styles, however. In how they can be manipulated to fit into her own style, and surprise her enemies. None of this means that she doesn’t wonder, briefly, if fire bending could be turned to such purposes as healing, just as water bending has been.

She decides it’s probably silly. Even if it could be, and there were practical applications for such a technique, it is more prudent to continue studying it to fight, rather than turning her attention away from martial skills for an unknown amount of time.

Especially if she wants to keep her father’s attention.

“I’ll re-splint them with something proper,” the healer, Master Kana, continues, “bandage them up good.” The old woman glances at Azula, her light blue eyes not unkind, the princess thinks.

“She’ll need something to walk with,” she adds, turning back to Iroh, “when she does walk. Of course it’s preferable if she were to rest and not put undue strain on the breaks too early. If she does not wish to cause permanent damage.”

“I am most certain that she does not,” Iroh answers evenly, “but unfortunately we do not have the means to stay in one place, as yet. I would not wish to overstay our welcome, and I think that staying in town would only invite trouble.” He strokes a hand through his salt and pepper beard, humming thoughtfully to himself. Azula observes the familiar stitch of skin at his brow only briefly before she returns to studying the healer’s face.

She wants to commit her features to memory.

The old woman is lean, far leaner than is likely healthy, all skin and bones and hardly any fat. Her Earth Kingdom clothing hangs off of her frame, her white hair pulled back from her face in Earth Kingdom style, though she is so clearly Water Tribe. Her dark skin holds wrinkles and folds that speak of her endless years amongst the living.

She is far older than Uncle Iroh. But the old woman shows him deference, as though he were not in a peasant’s rags. It’s strange.

But then, so was their greeting, and her uncle’s sudden decision that she would be the preferable healer over another more reputable healer in town.

Azula supposes a more reputable healer might be more inclined to report Iroh to the authorities. As a matter for their reputation.

What does some little old woman healer with a Pai Sho tile for a sign have to lose?

“I’m certain I can find something sturdy enough to get you through to somewhere safe,” Kana offers with a wave of the hand.

“That is very kind,” uncle replies. The old woman shrugs, smiling at him, as though pleased with the praise.

“Anything for the Grand Lotus, of course. The Order passed along the news of what happened nearly as soon as it had occurred,” the woman continues in conversation, “Everyone has been wondering when you would surface.”

“It has been difficult to come for help. I put a rather large target on my back.”

Azula frowns, confused not for the first time since they’d entered the little hole in the wall practice and been seen through to the examination room. Grand Lotus. The Order. She stares long at the two elderly people and wonders what connects them. What this order is.

The woman knows who Azula is, that much is clear from their conversation. So much for her plan to tell Kana of her plight while Uncle’s back is turned. To ask her to send for help. Soldiers to come and ‘rescue’ the princess from her horrid uncle and violent brother.

She will find no such help here.

Azula clenches her teeth, and turns the puzzle of this new information over and over again in her mind’s eye, inspecting it.

“And your niece is…uninitiated?”

“That is correct. For now.”

Azula’s attention turns to Iroh and Kana once again, her gaze intense and suspicious. For now? Her uncle’s intentions once again blur and become unclear. By now she has usually figured out those who she spends an inordinate amount of time with. Her uncle continues to elude her. Her hand curls into a fist, nails biting into her palm.

“Unlike my nephew,” Iroh continues, “she has a better appreciation for the finer things in life. For the cryptic arts. Given time, perhaps she may even come to appreciate what the world has to offer when it is in balance.”

“She is right here,” Azula finally snaps. The older folks turn to look at her, eyebrows raised, and Azula feels her glare deepen.

“Apologies,” the old woman says, stepping in before more vitriol can be tossed around. “Of course you are here. You are to take it easy.” The old woman crosses to her, reaching over to a table next to the examination slab, plucking up a nondescript bag and folding it between her age-softened hands. “This herb is for the pain. You only need very small doses. Your uncle will be able to measure and brew them for you.

“It will make you groggy,” Kana warns, “but, at least you will not be in so much pain.”

Azula’s lips press into a thin line, but she nods. Right now, there is no pain in her leg, but she knows that this will likely not last. Much as she requires a sound mind, she also requires rest to make her mind work. She will take the herbs when she needs to sleep, she resolves, no more often than that.

Her uncle comes forward, helping Kana sit Azula up. Her vision swims momentarily, but settles, and the princess looks between the two old people with a delicately raised eyebrow.

“I’ll fetch that walking stick and the splints,” Kana announces congenially, wandering off to do just that.

Azula looks at her uncle then, left alone with him once more in the quiet of the healer’s hut.

“The Order,” she tries then, expression questioning. Uncle only smiles cryptically. Azula scowls at him, huffing.

The old woman comes bustling back, a thick walking stick and her other supplies in hand.

“This will have to do,” she says to them. “It’s not ideal but — I don’t suppose much about this situation is very ideal to begin with.” She hands the stick out to Azula. The princess takes it, moving her hand up and down briefly, testing the weight of it. Kana takes her wounded leg in hand and sets to work.

When the healer has finished her work, Azula’s grip tightens around the curved top of the hard stick, and then she sets it sturdily against the floor, using it to lift herself from the bed she’s been languishing within. Even with the splints she can feel the rush of blood back into her foot, throbbing sharply in her ankle. Azula sucks breath in through her teeth unbidden, closing her eyes as she breathes through the pain.

It settles slightly after a few moments, but her breaths remain infuriatingly shallow to compensate for the pain. Clenching her jaw she takes a tentative step forward with the help of the walking stick. Uncle is going to have to carry her again, she knows. She eyes him silently.

He looks to be deep in thought.

“I have a few more questions for you, Master Kana, if that is alright,” Uncle says then. Azula raises an eyebrow once more. “Azula why don’t you wait outside under the awning in the shade. I will join you momentarily.”

She knows when she is being dismissed. She likes it no better from her uncle than she does from her father. Still, she obeys, hobbling carefully from the house and out into the dust of the street. Azula garners a few passing glances from those on the street, but no more. She finds a low stool and lowers herself onto it carefully, leaning back toward the door.

She listens. Her uncle’s voice can be made out but not understood through the wood. Kana’s replies are even more muffled. Frowning, Azula presses her ear a little closer to the frame, hoping to hear what they are conspiring over.

“-ong-ong…us…” It’s no better really. Her uncle’s laughter is unmistakable, however, and is followed shortly by the tinkling laugh of the healer before she can hear him making his goodbyes and coming closer to the door.

Azula leans back hastily, schooling her expression to boredom, making certain to look as though she were simply staring at the passersby the entire time that she waited. Her uncle’s portly figure trundles through the door, and he casts about for her briefly before realising that he merely needs to look down.

“Done flirting,” she asks flatly. Azula’s mouth tucks up into a lopsided curve. Iroh snorts at her.

“Come on, we’re going to find an ostrich-horse.”

“Oh?”

“I figure that it will be easier on both you and me if we have something to carry you around that isn’t my old, aching, back.”

She scoffs, “Inspired.”

“I certainly thought so,” he agrees. Iroh reaches down a hand to assist her. Azula takes it with a roll of her eyes, eased to her feet with her uncle’s help. They start into the street, Iroh’s hand around her arm.

There is companionable silence between them for a time. At least — as companionable as it can get between herself and her uncle. He seems pleased with himself when she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. She presses her mouth into a line, and then finally gives in to her curiosity, closing her eyes for a breath.

“What is the ‘grand lotus’, and why are you it?”

Iroh’s heavy brow lifts high, stitching to wrinkles as his attention diverts back to Azula. She is careful to show as little emotion as she can force from herself, expectant.

“Do you really want to know,” he asks. Azula rolls her eyes yet again,

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t know about that…but alright. Since you asked. The Grand Lotus is my title within the Order of the White Lotus.”

“White Lotus…?” Wasn’t that a pai sho gambit? And an old one at that? “So you’re…in a pai sho club?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he says after a chuckle, “but essentially? Yes.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Now, now. Don’t be so quick to judge what you do not understand, princess Azula. I thought you of all people would know better than that.”

Azula huffs.

“Well, it’s obviously given you connections. I assume it has to do with more than just pai sho, since you felt safe enough bringing me to that healer that you didn’t really need to watch me. Not to mention, she appeared to be aware of our situation without any need for explanation.”

“There you see? You are a very perceptive girl.”

“I have my moments,” she answers dryly. “So it’s some sort of secret intelligence society with networking across the world. Or at least across the Earth Kingdom.”

“More or less,” he answers easily.

Azula’s eyes narrow.

“Why would you tell me that then? I could tell my father about your secret society of information gatherers.”

Her uncle looks cheerful when he answers her.

“I don’t think you’ll tell him.”

Something inside of Azula clenches at the words, despite his cheerful demeanour. Him not believing that she would tell her father could mean so many things. It could mean that she isn’t ever going home, for instance. She wonders if her uncle is truly above ridding himself of her entirely. Certainly if she were in his shoes she would have done something to take her permanently out of the game by now. She would not have brought her all the way to the Earth Kingdom. She would not have kept her alive on that ship.

Perhaps he hopes that he can get through to her. Or, perhaps he is merely waiting for the opportune moment. Certainly to keep up appearances he could not have killed her in front of Zuko. It would have given him away.

That’s probably it.

Azula steels herself internally.

“Here we are. This is the place that Master Kana described.” Her uncle makes certain that she can stand on her own before leaving her side. Azula puts all of her weight on her good leg, waiting as he barters with a stern looking man over the price for a sturdy mount. Her uncle comes away with one that looks a little ruffled around the edges, but otherwise healthy. It comes with a saddle and bridle already attached.

She’s uncertain where he got the money for the beast. Perhaps the healer.

“There. Come and step into my hands here, I’ll give you a boost so you can sit side saddle. I’ll lead the ostrich-horse for you.” He kneels next to her, hands cupped, ready. Azula sighs wearily, hopping over to her uncle and pressing her good foot into his palms. It requires her to compensate with the bad one. She digs her walking stick into the ground hard to keep as much of the weight from it as is possible.

When she finally gets into the saddle it is on her belly and, exasperated, Azula grunts as she pulls herself in further using her arms, settling awkwardly in the warmth of the leather seat. Her uncle recovers the walking stick where it’s fallen to the dirt road, rubbing at it with his sleeve before he hands it back up to her.

The wood is still warm and smooth under her palms.

“Don’t fall off now,” Iroh says with that same gentle cheerfulness he has affected for most of their journey to the healer. Even carrying her on his back as he’d done for most of the way his tone of voice hadn’t changed. She purses her lips.

“I have never fallen from a saddle in my life. I’m not about to start now.”

He grunts mirthfully, and the ostrich-horse bounces into motion. Azula winces when her splinted leg hits the side of the animal with the movement of its gait, holding it out steadily after that to avoid a repeat offence.

It’s some time before they speak again. Silence their comfortable companion, they disappear into the forest with the beast. It rises around them like a tide of green, late sunlight filtering through here and there to the forest floor in dappled spots of brilliance.

“What makes you think I will ever be a member of this secret…pai sho society of yours,” she asks finally, sudden after the long silence. His words to the healer have been nagging at her. And your niece is uninitiated? Yes. For now. Her voice is hushed in the close press of the foliage. Uncle Iroh turns to look up at her in surprise, eyebrows hitting his hairline.

“Well…” he sighs, his head inclining to the side as he considers his answer. Azula watches from her perch, silently expectant. “You are intelligent, and diligent. You are dedicated to your craft, and adept at many things. I suspect that you like the traditional arts more than you let on, and that you respect the traditions of the other two remaining Nations despite your life’s purpose of putting them on their knees. In short, I see much of myself in you.”

Azula snorts, unable to help herself.

“Yourself?”

“Yes. When I was a different man. Before I lost Lu Ten and had to find myself. I was a lot like you when I was younger. The Dragon of the West, in truth, is not the same person that I have become.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Iroh nods slowly at her remark. Azula watches his expression with care.

“There was a time when i was possessed of the same ruthless drive with which you execute everything, Azula. I am not proud of that man. He was smart in many ways, but still naïve in others. I did not know what the world could truly offer back then, though I called myself cultured. I did not consider the other side of the argument all that often, except where it would serve me in my military position. I was blind to the fact that my son was not ready to be on the frontlines of a war that we had been fighting for nearly a century.”

Iroh grows quiet, looking sad. Azula cuts her gaze away from the naked show of emotion on his weathered features, concentrating on the slithering underbrush below her. She hears him take a steadying breath.

“I merely hope that you do not grow up and have the same regrets that I do when this whole war is over.”

Azula frowns and looks back at the old man.

“What will I possibly have to regret?”

He’s silent for a moment. “If the Fire Nation loses, what will you lose, princess Azula?”

Her lips press closed, a thin white line, and she observes the old man down the length of her nose, expression cold as the inlaid gold of a crown.

“You think that the Fire Nation will lose?” It’s a possibility, of course. One of many. The Fire Nation is at the height of its power, however, and their technological advances far out pace those of the other two Nations. In her estimation, it is very unlikely that the Fire Nation will lose this war. With the return of Sozin’s Comet, too, they will have a once in a century opportunity at finally conquering the Earth Kingdom and the Northern Water Tribe both. They are going to win this war. They are.

“I sincerely hope that it does.”

Her brow draws low, and she looks sharply away from her uncle, back to the path they are forging through the sea of green before them.

“That’s treason,” she informs him flatly, “and a foolish hope at best.”

“Perhaps it is, but I have already kidnapped the heir to the throne. So what’s a little more treason?”

“Huh. You don’t take anything seriously do you,” she asks blandly. Iroh rasps out a laugh.

“Sure I do. But treason is the least of my worries, at the moment. If you want to talk about treason, I would be glad to point out all of your father’s treasons from the brief moment before he took the throne.”

It’s Azula’s turn to laugh, but it sounds bitter.

“So this is about him usurping you.”

“I did not say that. I merely wish to point out that no matter what I do, he would have eventually found an excuse to jail me, or worse. I might have helped him to grow up, but it is clear that your father feels no filial duty toward myself or any of the rest of us. He serves only himself and his own interests. He wanted to be the most powerful man in the world, and now he is.”

“And you didn’t?”

“…When I was young, perhaps…But once my son was gone, I found that all of my desires and ambitions had turned to ash in my mouth. What good was there in conquering? None. How many loving fathers had I deprived of their sons?” He gestures vaguely at the air.

“They feared you,” she says, and thinks that that is infinitely better than being chased down and used as a pawn in father’s plans. She will never be anything but fearsome to those around her. It’s for her own good as well as theirs.

“My name was feared, yes, but that did not bring me joy then, and it does not bring me joy now. It was a lonely life before, even though I had my son. He was the centre of my world. When he died, I was left with nothing that I cared for.”

“So you went wandering,” Azula guessed, sighing tiredly. It was an old story. Uncle and mother had disappeared at around the same time in her life. When father was rising to his place on the throne. When she went from the daughter of the second prince to the daughter of the Fire Lord. Sister of the heir to the Fire Nation throne. The heir in her own right though it was not official at that time.

He doesn’t respond.

“The camp is not far now,” he tells her instead.

Azula settles into the saddle a little heavier, back slouching.

They smell the camp before they see it. Zuko’s gone fishing and has pieces of cod scorching over the fire on a makeshift spit. Others he’s left out in a sunny patch with a generous helping of salt scattered on the skins so that they’ll dry out to jerky. He stands in one swift motion when he hears their approach, sheathing his swords when he sees that it’s them. He eyes the ostrich-horse in surprise.

“Well?”

He doesn’t look at Azula, cutting his gaze down before their eyes can meet. He concentrates instead on their uncle.

“Her leg will heal, and she will live,” Uncle answers cheerfully. Azula rolls her eyes for what feels like the thousandth time that day.”

“Good. Then we can move on,” Zuko says, sitting back down before the fire heavily.

“Well…We do need to wait around here for just…a little longer,” Iroh replies slowly, reaching up for Azula as he speaks. She sighs shortly, accepting his assistance and sliding from the saddle gingerly.

For his apparent level of fitness her uncle is surprisingly strong. He eases her down with the strength of his arms and settles her on the ground so lightly she might have been floating previously.

The clearing has heated noticeably in response to the shift in Zuko’s mood.

“What do you mean two days,” Zuko demands, “we can’t afford to stick around here that long!”

“I don’t think we need to worry about camping out for two days,” Iroh answers calmly. He reaches out a hand to help Azula. It comes gently around her bicep, and she wrenches herself free before he can firm his grip. Iroh glances at her briefly before retracting his hands back to himself.

“The Fire Nation is on our heels!”

“We are in Earth Kingdom territory now,” Iroh answers placatingly, “they will be forced to be more careful. It will work in our favour.”

“Why do we have to stay here anyway,” Zuko demands in turn. Azula is wondering the same thing.

“I am waiting for word on the whereabouts of an old friend. I believe that he can help us, if only we can make contact with him.”

So he’d been setting up this meeting while Azula had waited for him outside of the healing hut. She closes her eyes, and swallows against the sudden wave of nausea brought on by the pain of her broken ankle and knee. She leans heavily on her walking stick, breathing out between her lips and teeth.

“And if we can’t make contact with him,” Zuko questions.

“Azula, settle yourself down and I will make some of that tea,” Uncle invites. She shakes her head only slightly, looking sidelong at Iroh once again.

“No tea.”

He purses his lips at her, eyes narrowing.

“You are clearly in pain,” he tells her, “there is no reason that you must be in pain when we have been provided with the means to keep you comfortable. Sit down. I am making you the tea. And you are going to drink it.”

She huffs at him in outrage, limping briskly to her bed roll where it’s been set cradled within some tree roots. It’s more comfortable than it looks.

“Zuko help your sister sit down,” Iroh instructs.

There’s a pause, annoyance at being ignored, and then Zuko stands with a long sigh of his own. His hand is at her arm a moment later. They don’t look at one another as Azula is eased to the bedroll. Zuko shrugs off his outer robe, rolling it up and stuffing it at her back without a word before he stalks off back to the fire. She frowns as he goes, settling her spine against the bunched up fabric.

Forced to take the tea. Forced to stay at this campsite for the next two days. Azula closes her eyes and crosses her arms. She thinks of home.

#ooc #A Foolish Undertaking #my writing #fanfic #azula #princess azula #iroh #uncle iroh #Zuko #prince zuko

14 notes · View notes