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#Even if he has to go on a full-on quest for it. Tearing a path through the multiverse
tswwwit · 10 months
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just reread whump au for the nth time now, and it suddenly occurred to me what in god's name would've happened if dipper just straight up kicked the bucket right after saying, "i love you."
i can't imagine bill's reaction would've been a good one. i'm getting chills just trying to picture it, honestly.
in fact, just the image of dipper dying in general, and seeing the aftermath of that from bill's pov, has my whole body breaking out into goosebumps.
awesome.
also, let's just assume that bill hasn't yet figured out the whole reincarnation thing in this scenario aha
(i just really like angst okay? lmao)
Oh man, Bill? Oh Bill. Bill.
He would be very, very upset.
Also this is a good opportunity for the ol' classic:
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#answers#There's probably a short time where he's too stunned to have a response#Which is *very* rare for Bill; he's old as hell - literally! - and seen and done pretty much everything#This of course can't last long. Bill is a being of *action*. And rage.#Bill is not taking this lying down#He's not taking this AT ALL what BULLSHIT is THIS#He didn't even get a DECADE with this mortal and what he's just GONE??? BULLSHIT#NO CHANCE NOT HAPPENING NOPE NOPE NO FUCK THAT#If the multiverse thought Bill during their 'break' was bad this is going to be orders of magnitude worse#He's experienced something he never thought he'd ever feel and never *ever* thought would be felt for him in turn#It was strange and disgustingly domestic. Grossly wibbly soft and chokingly *Sweet* with this lovely rivalry ganache#Something he won't - can't - continue on throughout the ages without. Not after he knows what it's *like*#Nothing's gonna match *that* again. Barely a decade damn it and it just. Just went. *poof*.#And FUCK THAT#The soul has to be somewhere. Lots of people can build a body. There's solutions#And if anyone or anyTHING stands in his way he's going to get rid of it without even stopping to monologue or gloat#Bill's got a mission and no psychopomp or demon or god is going to stand in his way of reclaiming what's his#Even if he has to go on a full-on quest for it. Tearing a path through the multiverse#He is GOING to get him BACK#Dipper's Last Words are going to have a greater effect than he could have imagined#Because with those ringing in Bill's brain he's not going to ever *stop*#Narratively speaking it'd be the most Character Development for Bill to exhaust his violent means#And have to bargain with someone#(Probably the Axolotl)#The biggest challenge Bill has ever or will ever face: Going up to someone. Hat in hand. And saying *please*
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Hiiii I'm here for the constellation game!!
2 - Al- Haytham (or pick another genshin character if you're not comfy with him ❤️)
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mariii, good to see you!! thank you so much for joining!! finally, writing for al-haitham even though i haven’t finished the archon quest yet ehe~
i went into this thinking everyone would be rolling 3s or 6s but apparently 2 is the choice number jshsh; slow dancing is one of my favourite tropes and i hope i did both the trope and al-haitham justice with this piece ♡
MOONLIT DREAMS
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trope: slow dancing [space nr. 4]
pairing: al-haitham x gn!reader
genre: fluff
warnings: none, just floof <3
second constellation event masterlist
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Leaning onto the parapet of one of the many raised platforms in Sumeru City, you rested your head in your hand as you let out a dreamy sigh. Before your eyes, one of the most beautiful sunsets you had seen in a long time coloured the sky in the most vibrant shades of pink, red and yellow. It seemed as though nature wanted to celebrate alongside the people of Sumeru, the chatter and music of the festival in the streets below audible even where you were standing.
“It's almost magical, isn't it? Just look at all the pretty colours, Haitham~” you sighed again, melting a little more into the hand supporting your head.
“Actually, there's really nothing magical about it at all. We perceive sunsets and sunrises to be colourful because of a phenomenon called light scattering.” Al-Haitham had closed the book he was reading and came to stand next to you, looking towards the setting sun in time to miss you rolling your eyes. “The scatter is caused by small particles and molecules in the air changing the direction of the incoming light rays. Although, the colour we perceive is determined by the size of the particles and the wavelength of the light. Red has the longest wavelength of all to us visible light, so when the sun is at the horizon and the light has the longest path through the atmosphere, all other colours are blocked out. That's why we deem sunsets to have a reddish colour.”
“You don´t say; I thought it was actual magic and someone painted the sky every evening. Way to kill the mood, nerd,” you deadpanned before bumping your shoulder into his. After all, you didn't mind him going on scientific tangents, otherwise you wouldn't be able to stand being near him all the time. Besides, his voice was delightful to listen to, so he could talk all he wanted. 
Tearing your eyes away from the horizon, you focused it instead on the illuminated streets below. The festival was in full swing now as people ate, drank, chatted and danced. “Looks like it's getting pretty lively down there.”
“You know how people get when there´s something to celebrate, they lose all inhibitions.” Subtly, Al-Haitham shifted to study your expression out of the corner of his eye. “But I guess, it's not a bad thing to let loose every once in a while. Do you want to go down and join them?”
“No, not yet. I´d rather stay up here with you for a little longer.” Shifting your weight to look at him properly, you tried to gauge his reaction but he's always had a pretty impressive poker face. “Unless you don't want to?”
“No, I think you´re far better company than any I could find down there, so I don´t mind at all.”
“That's good to know,” you smiled before your attention was drawn to where a band had started playing. You recognised the song immediately. It was a popular romantic waltz and couples flocked to the centre of the plaza hand in hand. Oh, how you longed to share such a dance with someone one day. Against all your might, the butterflies in your stomach were fluttering towards the man next to you and you tried to shake the feeling by concentrating on the movements on the streets again.
There were a lot of things you could say about Al-Haitham. But not that he was dumb. And he wasn't oblivious either. Naturally, he had noticed the ‘stolen’ glances you had sneaked his way when you thought he wasn't looking. He had also observed how your face lit up when you saw him or when he remembered your favourite flower he ‘just happened to come across’ during his expeditions. But up until now, it had never been the right moment to tell you how he felt. Or, at least, that was what he told himself when he let another chance pass by.
There was something compelling about the way you looked under the festival lights though. And when Al-Haitham saw the dazed look in your eyes as if you observed something magnificent in the far distance, he decided to take a leap that night. Holding out his hand to you, he cleared his throat to bring you back to the present.
“May I have this dance?”
Right off the bat, he knew it had been worth it when the surprise on your face morphed into genuine joy, the smile you offered him, as you placed your hand in his, more vibrant than the past sunset. Guiding you to the centre of your own little dance floor, he did his best to focus on you and not on the pounding of his heart.
Unbeknownst to the man in front of you, you were trying very hard not to trip over your own feet before the dance had even begun. With the way the blood was thumping in your ears, you doubted you´d be able to make out the beat of the music over it. When you came to a halt in front of your dancing partner, your brain had finally caught up with what was happening and that it was actually happening.
Just to have that moment of clarity whisked away from you again the second Al-Haitham placed his hand on your lower back and pulled you closer to his strong chest. With his lips nearly brushing your ear, he lowly whispered “Is this okay?”
You were very proud of yourself for the stammered “Yeah” you managed to breathe, not being under the impression your vocal chords could create a sound at all.
It turned out you needn't worry about hearing the music in the first place. Al-Haitham was an excellent dancer, confidently guiding you through the motions with measured steps and an elegance that was befitting of royalty, yet was also so very him. Needless to say, it didn't take long for you to fall into step with him and forget the world around you. Right now, it was just the two of you.
“I didn't know you could learn how to dance from being surrounded by books all day,” you joked to alleviate your nerves.
“Why so surprised?” he questioned, “I'm hardly the type of scholar to hole myself up in the library all day long.”
“Clearly,” you mumbled. Suddenly, you were hyper-aware of the defined muscle your left hand was resting against.
Despite your nerves being set ablaze by the proximity, you couldn't possibly tear your eyes away from his dual-coloured ones. He seemed to downright glow under the moonlight, his bright hair catching and scattering the gleam in such a way he seemed to be adorned by a halo. And to you, he could´ve very well been ethereal.
The song slowed down and you went from effortless turns and twists to a gentle sway, like two flowers bending in a breeze. At first, you were confused as to why Al-Haitham released your hand. Then, your lips parted in surprise when he slowly laced his fingers through yours, gaze lingering on your now intertwined hands. The way he looked at you was so soft, you thought your knees might have buckled and given out were it not for him holding you upright.
“I haven't dreamt in a long time but if I had, I think this is what my dream would have looked like.” There was such an unfamiliar vulnerability in his voice it might have startled you in any other situation but right in this moment, blanketed by the light of the moon and a million stars, unveiling true emotions seemed the most natural course of action. “(Y/n), there is something I´ve been meaning to tell you and I´ve realised I can't wait any longer. No matter what your answer will be, I will accept it, so long as it is the truth.”
“Al-Haitham..” You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as you fought hard to keep your hopes from soaring to the sky lest they came crashing down around you should your heart be broken by the one who had held it so carefully up until now.
“I´ve never felt for anyone the way I feel for you. Normally, concentrating on my research is no problem at all but lately I´ve been finding it hard to focus when thoughts of you cloud my mind. Whether it´s debating asking you to join me for lunch or wondering if you'd like one of the pins in the shop display, it's as if I can´t go anywhere without being reminded of you. It´d be maddening if it was anybody else. But because it's you… I don't mind.” He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply before holding your gaze once again. “What I'm trying to say is, I like you, (Y/n). A lot. The only question remaining is whether you feel the same for me?”
“You´re just full of surprises, aren't you?” You couldn't suppress the joyous giggle bubbling out of you but before he could retreat his hand from yours, you tightened your hold. “I guess that's just one of the things I like about you. A lot, I dare say.”
“Just what have I gotten myself into with you?” Despite his words, he couldn´t hide the spark amidst turquoise and orange nor the amusement tugging at his lips.
“You said you'd accept my answer as long as it was the truth and considering I was being very honest just now, you have to live with it. It's too late to backtrack,” you teased.
“Oh, I wasn't trying to take anything back. I'm merely starting to devise counter measures for the brat I seem to have on my hands. I have a few ideas already.” With one swift tug on your still intertwined hands, you collided with his solid chest, the hand on the small of your back making sure you´d also stay there. The fingers of his left hand danced along your jawbone in feather-light motions, leaving goosebumps in their wake. As you watched a smug smirk settle on his handsome face, you wondered just what you had gotten yourself into. Following the movement of his thumb over your bottom lip in a barely-there caress, Al-Haitham contemplated a moment before speaking again.
“It seems to me as if dreams might not be so nonsensical after all.”
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tag list: @mccnstruck
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ac-liveblogs · 1 year
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Hi! I just stumbled upon your tumblr!
I have this rather unpopular and controversial opinion about Scaramouche. I feel like 3.3 has pictured him way too dramatic and too much of a victim so that people will feel simpathy for him.
The 3.3 events don't make me feel sympathy for him because Scaramouche joined the fatui willingly based on the Husk of Opulent Dreams set.
The set also states that Scaramouche is not affected by rain, nor does he breathe, which made me think that he doesn't....exactly feel pain? Yet there's a ton of audio lines that hint how he went through a lot of torture back when Dottore experimented on him.
When Scaramouche joined the Fatui, he was seated as a Harbinger, aka a high diplomatic position, had his own subordinates, and probably had access to travelling and many other comodities. It's not like he was a simple labrat similar to Collei.
Collei was kept in a dark cell, treated like a dog, forced through injections to go through the human enhancing experiment, and hunted down like a rabid animal throughout the manga.
Scaramouche was being sent into the abyss constantly, from which he would return and then go directly to Dottore to patch him up. If he felt like he was suffering from those experiments, and disliked the fatui, why not escape or ....end himself through the abyss?
A lot of people kept blaming Dottore for his baggage but it seems to me that there were a lot more factors in play here. Scaramouche was damaged by Ei, then Dottore, then by human nature (with the sick kid dying), then ultimately, himself.
What's your take on how Scaramouche was handled in the 3.3 archon quest? Do you think that there was an obvious writing tactic in making Scaramouche symapthetic so as to influence players into pulling for him? Sorry if you have already talked about this and excuse me if I may rustle some feathers from what I have wrote, in case you're a Scaramouche fan.
Hi anon and welcome! And sorry for the belated response, life is. Yeah. Never fear, Genshin's writing is so Like That that I'm absolutely fine tearing even the characters I DO like to shreds, and Scaramouche is definitely not one of those.
Honestly, yeah? A LOT of weight is put on Dottore pushing Scaramouche down a bad path. Way too much, IMO - it's the realisation that Scaramouche was lied to that makes him decide to undo everything he did to the Raiden Gokaden, which, uh. Look, Dottore wasn't exactly holding a gun to his head forcing him to do any of that. It's not Dottore's fault Scaramouche went Full Revenge Quest 3000 on the ancestors of folks tangentially related to Niwa Hisahide like an insane person. And honestly, Genshin's usual brand of "you only did the wrong thing because you didn't know the truth of the matter!" aesop kinda stings here because, what? Scaramouche just eventually shifted his focus to Dottore, so what's the actual moral here? That if Niwa really had killed a subordinate as Dottore had claimed, Scaramouche would have had nothing to learn or grow from?
Because Scaramouche's drive for revenge isn't actually commented on, you know. Not really. The fact that he was still taking potshots at the - again, tangentially related - Raiden Gokaden centuries on isn't really the focus of any of this in his redemption arc, it's just window dressing for the domino effect of tragedy caused by Dottore tricking him and a convenient setpiece to demonstrate the limits of Irminsul's power. There isn't an aesop of learning to let go and moving on or heal from the past, like one might expect. He is not made to pay for his actions, nor is he ever confronted by anyone affected by what he did, nor is there a lesson to be learnt about the futility of revenge. Once Scaramouche is past his suicidal episode and has been successfully manipulated into working for a different Archon this time, he just redirects his rage and swears vengeance on the Fatui and Dottore instead! So what's the lesson, here? If you're gonna swear bloody vengeance, at least make sure it's on the right people?
Narratively, this is all very confusing and unsatisfying to me. You establish a character flaw that is not addressed, and instead set up a misconception mystery where both the misconception AND the truth are explained at roughly the same time so I can't even bathe in the horrific irony of the situation. Perhaps I wasn't meant to look at Scaramouche's insane revenge quest and think it mattered for his character, just like I wasn't supposed to look at Ei allowing Inazuma to get screwed over and think that reflected badly on her, but it was also the most concrete thing we had on him in terms of characterisation (that wasn't an item lore dump) for quite some time so, yeah, after the Iradori Festival I do feel kinda blueballed. I can't feel bad for a character like this. Late Sumeru was the first time he got real focus, and it was already telling me to forgive and feel bad for him.
And, like. Has Scaramouche GROWN as a person? It's not like he's actually been redeemed in any way that matters (to me), and I would hope that Genshin keeps that in mind moving forward (they do seem aware, at least), but it does feel like they couldn't see the forest for the trees when constructing his quest WRT his character. It seemed like the absolute focus was to pull as much attention away from "Scaramouche is a fucked up guy, trauma notwithstanding" and instead hone in on on a) "Irminsul sure is important!" and b) "Scaramouche is a poor little meow meow, he's so sad, please roll for him". Literally, he's depicted as a crying kitten, this quest does NOT want to grapple with the morality of Scaramouche's actions, just the lore surrounding why he did them. Forget anything he did in the Fatui, though. The propagation of Delusions in Watatsumi on behalf of the Vision Hunt Decree, who? What? Eh….
It also strikes me that "Scaramouche is a sad manipulated tortured (off-screen) baby, isn't it so nice he's away from that nasty (off-screen) situation so he can't get manipulated by Dottore (off-screen) anymore, isn't it so good he fixed the problem so that he never did it in the first place (off-screen)" is a HELLUVA lot easier to write than "Scaramouche is a petty, spiteful murderer that can't let go of the past and, as an immortal, that has terrifying repercussions for the descendants of those he despises; is redemption even possible for him what will happen when he meets these characters etcetcetc.", and Genshin always, ALWAYS takes the easy way out, doesn't it? It did with Kaeya and his connection with Khaen'riah. It did with Collei and her backstory with Dottore. Just don't worry about it, keep the actual problem as far away as possible, we'll solve this with the least amount of words and animation possible and preferably with the characters talking to each other for as little time as possible.
I cannot get over the fact that Scaramouche is explicitly a character that will continue taking revenge on Niwa's ancestors and the 5 clans from the Raiden Gokaden - You know, the 5 sword schools, descendants of whom still survive today, some of whom are playable - but instead they had him try to undo everything he did off-screen so he never has to interact with them in any serious capacity. It's so fucking lazy it's unbelievable. What was the Iradori Festival for if not setting up Kazuha and Scaramouche's meeting (it was establishing what happened to the Raiden Gokaden, Kazuha does not matter)? What was Kazuha's quest for if not establishing his moral compass in preparation for a similar situation in the future (it was discussing what happened at Tatarasuna Furnace, Kazuha doesn't matter)? In a real story where the characters matter, these things should have chained into a story and, I'm sorry, I know I'm beating a dead horse with Kazuha FUCKING Kaedehara's ridiculously misdirected character beats but 2022 was a rough year, okay. Genshin set out very explicit building blocks for a story that seemed SO obvious even a child could see what was going to happen and they couldn't even commit to it because, what? It was hard? They didn't realise they'd accidentally set up a character conflict? Were Scaramouche and Kazuha foils on purpose or was that just a cosmic fluke?
Kazuha wanted to understand his friend better - specifically through the lens of how he felt when he fought a god -, he has a shared backstory with a character that is established to still want revenge on his family, and that character becomes a god, but Kazuha is also established as a forgiving character that cares about the present, not the past. I'm not crazy, right? That seems like a pretty open and shut set-up for a future character conflict, right?!
i would like actual validation on this i think because i'm starting to go a little crazier every time i see someone talk about how good and profound scara's writing was, like it wasn't the laziest possible solution for a bunch of shit that happened off-screen where the writers didn't have to, like, actually write any of it
uhhhhh
um, tl;dr, i thought 3.3 and scaramouche's handling pretty much all game was pretty bad. i don't really like the way they resolved his character arc here, it seemed like they kind of missed the bigger picture because they wanted to talk about lore again and couldn't really correctly identify scaramouche's real character flaws. kind of reminds me of xiao's writing in the chasm in that way, actually. like, there's been an attempt, but i'm not sure they really understood the gravity of what they'd written, and it feels like they took the easiest way to resolve the issues they DID focus on, so...
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transgamerthoughts · 10 months
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Her Only Weapons Were Her Tears
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Tears of the Kingdom's main objective, spelled out in the player's quest log right from the start is simple: find princess Zelda. Whether you explore every dungeon and follow the plot, complete a smattering before accidentally diving into Ganondorf’s lair, or rush with a speedrunner's fury into the final battle hardly matters.
All road's seek the same princess. All roads seek a shining sword. 
Let's chat about ending things and whether princess are saved and the horizons are clear. Should they be?
It's simple really! You have one job, Link! Find the princess!
Normally, that's a long process that takes players through a massive world as well as the skies about and depths below. In seeking the princess, players chart a massive path from shrine to shrine, side quest to side quest, and dungeon to dungeon. They seek power, gain heart pieces and increase their stamina, and acquire sagely spirits to aid them along the way. I'm not going to pick apart the paths players can take. Link can arrive in the Imprisoning Chamber beneath Hyrule Castle with a full arsenal of diamond tipped arrows and swords fused with monster bones. He can arrive completely naked.
He will arrive. He will slay the evil Demon King Ganondorf. He always finds his princess.
Zelda has changed. Flung into the far past at the start of the game, the princess meets King Rauru and Queen Sonia, the founders of the Kingdom of Hyrule. Zelda has arrived at a turning point in history; as Link prepares to fight Ganondorf in the future, she is already fighting that battle in the past. Growing close to the king and queen, Zelda joins with them and a cadre of sages to fight Ganondorf as he lays waste to the world. The "end" starts when Sonia is killed in an act of duplicity that grants Ganondorf access to one of the Zonai "secret stone," relics of immense power held by the royal family and sages. They grant access to near-limitless magical energy and can even gift individuals with immortality.
There's a catch to that final part. In order to use a secret stone to gain immortality, the stone must be consumed. This process changes the individual into an ageless dragon. It also robs the individual of all sapience. Time cannot touch you but it comes at the cost of individuality. You have no thinking mind, all is endless sleep and instinct. You sleep.
As Ganondof uses his stolen stone to raise armies of monsters, Rauru and the sages (including Zelda as a nascent sage of time) battle Ganondorf.. Zelda survives and is left with Rauru’s stone after using his strength to seal the Demon King away. It is a temporary reprieve Recalling how, in the present, the Ganon shatters Link’s sword—the legendary evil-sealing Master Sword—a long term gambit is crafted. The sword itself is unknowingly sent back in time to Zelda where she consumes Rauru’s stone and transforms into a mighty dragon. The blade rests upon her head where it will regain power over untold ages until Link can recover it. Zelda has given Link everything he needs. And in doing so, she gives all of herself.
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I’m not interested in a discussion focusing on if Zelda’s sacrifice plays into gender tropes. That’s an easy yes but I also think “the princess should save herself” is a boring way to look at the series or games more broadly. The story is as we have it. Zelda soars the skies with the Master Sword, she has shed all vestiges of her thinking mind, and only Link will be able to change that. But how much should it change? What kind of story are we telling?
I’ve spent most of my experience with Tears of the Kingdom sharing progress with friends in a private Discord. Our notes and discoveries were highly redacted and covered in spoiler warnings throughout everyone’s progress but more and more people have completed the game. It’s led to a discussion of the ending—which untangles much of the tragedy of Zelda’s sacrifice—and if something more melancholy is more fitting than the utter triumph our heroes know when the credits roll.
Let’s break it down: one way or another Link will obtain the Master Sword. If the player follows the story, they are invariably guided towards the Light Dragon that roams the world map. Many side paths also drive them this way. Seek the dragon, oh valiant knight, and you will claim the blessed sword. If you’re simply curious and climb on the soaring dragon’s back, you might even find it by chance.
If you don’t bother with any of this, you receive the sword in the final battle anyway. Ganondorf consumes his own stone after failing to best Link in combat. He transforms into a twisted dragon spewing corrosive gloom. The final boss fight takes place high in the sky where Link finds himself on the Light Dragon’s back. If the player hasn’t recovered the Master Sword, there it rests upon the dragon’s back. All roads converge.
Depending on the path a player takes, they might reach the Light Dragon after collecting the various dragon’s tears present at the ground zero sites of many ancient geoglyphs. The tears contain visions of the past; they weave Zelda’s story with Link’s modern day wanderings. Collect enough and the Light Dragon soars to the sky, weeping a final tear that explains all.
Zelda has been crying for centuries.
Link soars upon the dragon's back—a footing gained only by Zelda’s sacrifice—and plunges the sword into Ganon’s draconic form. He receives a parting gift: the spirits of Sonia and Rauru release Zelda from her timeless prison. The princess falls and falls…
Link dives…
The princess falls… She falls…… He dives… He reaches out…. She is falling but so close…
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He grabs her hand. They fall. Together, they land within a lake. The sun shines and she wakes. There are tears in her eyes
Objective complete. You have found princess Zelda.
The question stirring amongst my friends is whether or not all is too well. Is the resolution of the story, although beautiful and carved within our memories, perhaps a bit too clean?
Ah, well…
There is a time and place, even now, for stories of hope and complete victory over the darkness eating away at the world. My favorite story is one of these; the pirates sail against the evil empire and save the world from foes both modern and ancient before sailing off to the horizon. These stories speak to us because they allow us to believe in heroes. The tale cries out: “it is never too late!”
It is never too late to save the world. It might be too late for a clean and perfectly happy ending.
Tears of the Kingdom’s ending is immaculate in presentation. From the player’s initial dive into the depths beneath Hyrule Castle all the way until the last dive to catch Princess Zelda, the entire sequence soars. I’ve been playing Zelda games since 1998 and this was the first time I burst into tears playing a Zelda game. The music swelled, Link dived down, and he did what he failed to do at the start of the game when Zelda first fell further into the depths and backwards in time. It is the perfect capstone to nearly-perfect game.
There’s the argument for a happy ending in a nutshell. I measure the success in tears. I shed them years ago for my favorite game and I shed them here and now. There is a glorious release found within the water, a wonderful affirmation of the fairy tale. In dark times, these tales hold immense power.
These are dark times and Tears of the Kingdom is a wonderful fairy tale. In spite of this, and even allowing for the fantasy setting, it’s fair to ask: is this a story for our current times or a beautiful dream?
The story which matches our times does not have a clean ending. Zelda does not magically heal from her sacrifice. In this version, she continues to sail the skies and though she may not weep, the princess will never be found. Not as she was. There has been a change wrought through blood and tears and no matter how sweet the victory, the world does not revert to a status quo. Objective complete. But…
The possibility of this ending has stirred plenty of discussion amongst my friends and peers. There is a general consensus that perhaps it would be best that Zelda remain shackled in her draconic form. Not because that is the “mature” thing to do but rather because such an ending is more honest and of our times. We’ve seen how power responds to those who act against it. The response is violent and swift. It is measured in blood and tears.
There will be a day when the demons and their kings are cast down but the scars of the rule will remain etched upon the land and found most painfully in the absence of those who made sacrifices along the way. The sorrow transforms victory but time does not turn back and no miracle is coming to rewind things until the blood is back in our veins and the tears flow back from where they came.
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Which is better? The story when the princess awakens safely amongst the grass and flowers or where she sails forever upon the winds? There is a Hyrule where the Light Dragon sails eternally as a monument to the costs of fighting the Demon King. Of what was lost.
There is a Hyrule with an undying Zelda.
That’s probably the more “honest” version of the story even if it’s not the most magical or player-pleasing. Practically, there’s a version of Zelda where her sacrifice is lasting and true; one where a status quo is fundamentally shifted. Where stories and games further along this point always contain a dragon in the sky. There was a bold card to play with Tears of the Kingdom even if the ending as it stands is beautiful. Hell, even if the goddess blessed another brave woman who unites with a loyal warrior to fight the forces of evil… there might still be a dragon in the sky. A Zelda-eternal hovering above all as a reminder of what it takes to be brave. As sure and solid as Death Mountain itself. Always watching. Sometimes crying.
It doesn’t matter if the tears are for joy or sorrow. They’d fall on the world below and the waters would bloom flowers with light and love. Because those are her weapons.
And, you know... magic swords gotta get their magic from somewhere.
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ash-and-books · 10 months
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Rating: 4/5
Book Blurb: A sweeping YA fantasy about legacy, betrayal, sisterhood, and politicizing emotion in the quest for power—all balanced by a slow-burn LGBTQ romance. For centuries, the citizens of Velle have waited for their New Maiden to return. The prophecy states she will appear as the third daughter of a third daughter. When the fabled child is finally born to Velle’s reigning queen all rejoice except for Elodie, the queen’s eldest child, who has lost her claim to the crown. The only way for Elodie to protect Velle is to retake the throne. To do so, she must debilitate the Third Daughter—her youngest sister, Brianne.
Desperate, Elodie purchases a sleeping potion from Sabine, who sells sadness. But the apothecary mistakenly sends the princess away with a vial of tears instead of a harmless sleeping brew. Sabine’s sadness is dangerously powerful, and Brianne slips into a slumber from which she will not wake. With the fates of their families and country hanging in the balance, Sabine and Elodie hurry to revive the Third Daughter while a slow-burning attraction between the two girls erupts in full force.
A must-read for fans of the BookTok sensations ​Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard, Dance of Thieves by Mary E. Pearson, and These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong.
Review:
A girl's whose tears hold power and a princess who will do anything for her country... even put her own sister under a sleeping potion, but when both their paths cross a very unimaginable future lies in waiting for both of them. In the kingdom of Velle it is prophesized that the New Maiden will return and, in the body of the Third Daughter, this maiden will save everyone. It is believed that she has finally returned in the body of Velle's reigning queen who just passed, Brianne.... however her eldest sister Elodie knows that this cant be and she knows she has to retake the throne for herself if she wants to save her kingdom, even if it means debilitating her sister. Elodie becomes desperate and purchases a sleeping potion from a attractive apothecarist, Sabine. The only issue? Sabine gave her the wrong potion and gave her her own tears (tears that hold potent power as Sabine sells sadness) and now Sabine's family is out of money and her sister is forced to be used as collateral for a loan and Elodie has put her sister into a sleep she doesn't know she can get her out of. Sabine and Elodie now have to find a way to work together to break the sleeping curse, save the kingdom from Brianne's father who has taken the throne for himself, and work out the growing feelings between them. Sabine has powers she doesn't understand, she hears a voice in her head constantly putting her down, but she knows her tears are the only thing keeping her family afloat as her father is constantly gambling and putting them in debt and her brother only comes home when he needs a place to stay otherwise he's out partying. When Sabine and Elodie meet it's like something clicks between the two of them and they understand each other, but this new journey will force them to truly see each other and the depths they would go through for those they care about. This was a really interesting read and I found the world to be fascinating an can't wait to see where the second book goes!
*SPOILER*
Elodie is the daughter of the queen (each of her siblings has a different father) and when her sister Brianne is made queen she knows she has to get her off the throne especially since Brianne's father is so bent on corrupting the thrown to the will of the Church, but she does this by putting her under a sleeping potion that she wants to undo when she realizes that Brianne's father has made himself king. Sabine and Elodie meet up again and Elodie offers to clear Sabine of all her family's debts if she helps her undo the curse, Sabine agrees despite the fact that she has no clue how to actually undo it. Elodie soon is taken in by her childhood friend Tal who went into the army but now has returned and is working for the Second Sons, a group of guys who have been killing off Third Daughters for centuries and now Tal wants Elodie to be queen and help his second sons cause. Sabine discovers that she is actually the real Third Daughter and that the voice she has been hearing in her head and the powers she has, was the Third Daughter/Maiden all along. Sabine reveals this to everyone and Elodie forgives Sabine and wants to protect her from Tal and the Second Sons. Elodie and Sabine awaken Brianne from the curse, and she's met other Third Daughters in a mind space who warn her to warn Sabine of the Second Son Prophet Sebestain who needs to be stoped because they will destroy the Velle and all it's citizens. Sabine and Elodie both are in love with each other.
*Thanks Netgalley and Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, Christy Ottaviano Books for sending an arc in exchange for an honest review*
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Spiritfarer part 28 FINAL
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I was regretting having to do this, but it was finally time. I had done all the quests, all the side missions, and now it was time to let go of my boy Stanley. But that wasn’t it, Buck looks like he is not going to go, so that meant the only one left to go through the Everdoor was myself. This one was a tough one.
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After letting go of Jackie, there really was no beating around the bush. So as soon as I started up again, I went to Stanley who was ready to go. But before we boarded the boat, he said he had fun together when it was just the two of us. Doing Experiments. He then said that I shouldn’t stop doing that when he was gone. I won’t Stanley!
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Then of course, I had to have my final hug.
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The first thing Stanley said on the way to the door was that some people were mean. His mom was mean sometime and it makes him sad when people are mean. But his dad told him that people were not really mean their intentions just took a wrong path.
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He then said that he didn’t want to disappoint his mom and asked if she will be disappointed in him. (This part really broke me T-T) He had tried really hard. But he couldn’t do it. He likes to win, but sometimes it’s okay to lose.
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Then Stanley said he was trying really hard to be brave. But he was scared. He had hoped that this was all a nightmare and that he would wake up. He really wanted to wake up, but he couldn’t. And he didn’t.
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We got to the end of the river, and he asked me to take care of his beatle Jacob for him. He was still scared but I was here. I then gave him his final hug. I really didn’t want to let him go, but I had to and Stanley finally went through the Everdoor.
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I am crying at this point and Stanley’s constellation is his mushroom cap. I miss him already.
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I got back to the ship and after a minute of wiping my tears away. I looked at my Request’s Log and there was only one left. To take Stella and Daffodil through the Everdoor. I still had Buck on my ship but it looks like he doesn’t leave. I even looked it up to make sure and yeah...it was just me that was left.
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One thing that I noticed when I got back was that all the spirits who had been here were back, but just remnents of them. I couldn’t speak to them, but I can give them a hug.
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So I went around to all of the spirits and gave them a hug. I gave Stanley an extra long one.
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I gave Atul a big one too because I never got to give him a last hug. He had just left.
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With all that done, it was time. I got on my boat and with last words from Lily and the purple butterflies, I set off.
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It was a long silent paddle through the river.
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At the end I had to press X to go through the door. I sat there for a few minutes not ready to let go just yet.
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But it was eventually time and I gave Daffodil a big hug. I am tearing up again at this point. It’s the hugs, they get to me.
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Then it was my turn to go floating up and go through the door.
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Stella and Daffodil’s constellation joined the rest of the spirits she had helped up in the sky. 
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And that was it. The credits started rolling and I got to listen to the theme song again but this time with lyrics! It was beautiful.
I need to go lay down after that, my heart feels so full now. It has been a wild rollercoaster of emotions in this game and it was amazing. I have no words at the moment. All I can say is beautiful, just a beautiful game. Keep an eye out for my review coming out soon. I’ll see you in my next game. Until next time. Happy Gaming!
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rakumel · 9 months
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Raku Plays Her Faves, Ys VIII, Chapter 3 Part 3: In Soviet Seiren, Chicken Roasts YOU
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Today, we’ve already reached the end of Chapter 3. It wasn’t as long as I remembered, but a lot was packed into it. We climbed a mountain, found a cabin and some friends, and picked up a possible lead on how to defeat the dino monsters that have been extremely tough so far.
I say “friends” plural, because in addition to Ricotta, there’s a couple more castaways to rescue in this chapter.
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The first time I played through this game, I didn’t rescue Miralda here until well after I was “supposed to” because the game put her in that huge foggy area full of Primordials that at this point can one-shot everyone in your party if you try to fight them. So I wound up missing her approval rating quest and never got it maxed out. It wound up not mattering much because Adol’s overall approval was still high enough to get the best ending, but it still kinda bothered me.
So this time around, I remembered to just fucking RUN and found her camp (which functions just like the ones Adol and his party make)(which is cool).
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On the way to find the cave with orichalcum in it, if you explore the area thoroughly you’ll find Austin. He’s interested in the landmarks around the island, and will reward you for finding them all.
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In the same cave where you fought the Red Primordial, there’s also this little cat dude, who will reward you for feeding him cooked dishes. He won’t come with you, though. Sadness.
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If you talk to Ricotta before heading back up the mountain, you get this scene where you find out that the shoebill that’s been hanging around Castaway Village is Ricotta’s mentor. Any words of wisdom for Adol, Shoebill-sensei?
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...thanks. At least Shoebill will now help out on raids, so there’s that.
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At this point you also have the option to do an approval quest for Sister Nia, which amounts to an escort mission up a big hill. Yeah, yeah, I know. Stop groaning, it’s not that bad. Seriously, it isn’t. She’ll follow you, but if you get too far ahead she’ll just stop and wait for you. So it’s easy to run ahead, clear the path, then go back and get her to resume the quest.
There’s nothing super interesting about doing the quest itself, but I like the character development Sister Nia goes through here. The top screenshot looks gratuitous, but she’s actually got a good reason for tearing up her dress: on the way up the hill, she kept tripping on the hem, until finally she’d had enough and did something about it, rather than continue to let it be a hazard.
Sister Nia doesn’t really abandon her faith here, but she does examine it. She decides that rather than going straight to thoughts and prayers every time trouble comes up, she’s going to do what she can as a person first. Good on you, Sister.
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There’s a bridge that needs to be repaired in order to access the western foot of the mountain, which is where the group needs to go in order to find the cave with orichalcum. In the process we learn that Ricotta’s lived on this island for as long as she can remember, possibly implying that she’s been here even longer than Thanatos. That could explain why her teachers are animals and she was super excited to see other people.
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After fending off more monsters, they find the cave with fossils in it, and sure enough, there’s orichalcum in it. Laxia starts to wonder if there might be something to the dreams Adol’s having.
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Despite all that gleaming ore in the cave, for reasons I can’t remember (maybe they had difficulty mining it?) they can only bring back a smallish lump of usable orichalcum. It’s not enough to make even one entire weapon, so Kathleen suggests just enhancing the weapons they already have with the ore. 
She gets to work, and soon everyone in the party has an anti-Primordial upgraded weapon ready for use. Good thing too, because not only does it make going back up the mountain easier, but there’s a firey death chicken boss waiting for them at the summit.
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BUKAWK. BUKAWK. BUKAWWWWWWKMOTHAFUKAAAAAH
It dives at you, breathes fire, and tries to slap you with its claws. Bring plenty of burn medicines and make damn good use of the dodge roll, as well as any attacks that can reach up, because this boss will spend a lot of time in the air and out of reach. (Adol’s Tornado Blade is good for this.)
After defeating the Hell Rooster, the way to the summit of Mt. Gendarme is clear, and the group is rewarded with a spectacular sight:
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The ruins of an ancient city that seem vaguely familiar and a massive waterfall.
Well, the game seems to think we’ve surpassed Mt. Gendarme, so that’s it for Chapter 3. But hang on, game - we’re not on the other side of the mountain yet. Once we are though, you’d better buckle up, kids - because the plot’s gonna take off.
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Nemesis: Reformation (2)
Summary: Frank Castle didn’t expect to end up in a HYDRA base when he followed a lead intended for the syndicates. He also didn’t expect to find you barely conscious and tortured within an inch of your life. His decision to save you at that moment led you to spend the next ten years rebuilding yourself from the ashes of your former life. Frank Castle, Billy Russo, and Matt Murdock aid you in your quest for retribution until your old life catches up with you.
Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil
Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)
Warnings: 18+ ONLY SMUT CONTENT AHEAD. nightmares, explicit descriptions of trauma and torture, mentions of character death/s, angst, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language
A/N: HA! It took a while but I'm finally happy enough with this chapter to post it. Chapter 2 of Part 2 is here! It's all Frankie all chapter. Special thanks to @its-my-little-dumpster-fire and @pigwidgeonxo for beta reading like absolute pros. All mistakes are mine.
No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.
Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist
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2:2 Chicken Noodle Soup
It took nearly a year for Frank to agree to let you out on missions, even then he was very reluctant. Training was more physical therapy than anything else, Frank paying close attention to regaining and increasing your strength and endurance. Your training with the Avengers meant you were already highly agile, but the mission you were insisting on yourself would require you to be vicious and not just cunning.
Counseling with Curtis was awkward at first, but there was just something about the big man that was trustworthy. He didn’t rush you and he didn’t ask any questions that you weren’t comfortable with. He allowed you to go at your own pace, mostly just chatting with you like he was getting to know a new friend. It wasn’t hard for you to consider him a friend, his genuine and gentle nature was unnerving at first and you were instinctively suspicious of his kindness coming from months of captivity with Hydra but somehow you saw yourself allowing him to tear your walls down.
With Billy, you had developed a banter that surprisingly put you at ease. It was refreshing to have someone not walk around on eggshells with you. It was sharp, witty, entertaining, and increasingly flirtatious the way you went back and forth. He did not go easy on you during training even at the beginning when you could barely lift a gun, pushing you relentlessly in a way that pulled all of your focus so you could momentarily forget about the trauma you were struggling with. Training and counseling with the three of them ensured that by bedtime you were too drained to do anything other than shower and pass out.
Finally, Frank had relented and took you with him to chase a lead. Strictly recon only for now. The best logical course of action was to follow the path he was going on that led him to you.
Find the drugs.
Find the syndicate.
Avenge your sister’s death.
“She looks far too happy to be going out on a boring recon mission,” Billy snickered as he watched you lace your boots up with the biggest smile on your face that he’s seen on you so far. “You sure you don’t need me to come along?”
“We don’t need a babysitter, Bill,” Frank scoffed. His eyes suddenly widened as you grabbed an automatic assault rifle with the intention to pack it for the trip. “Hey! We don’t need that. What part of recon don’t you understand?”
Billy was chuckling in amusement at the small pout on your face as you sadly put down the rifle. He’s seen your skill during training and he found your accuracy impressive. You were already a deadly weapon, it was only a matter of sharpening your edge but he would be lying if he said that the small remaining idealism you still had didn’t appeal to him. There was something about that small light still in you, the one that was nearly drowning with the darkness you were struggling to mask, that he wanted to preserve. It was something that he constantly tried to coax out with his jokes and light teasing.
Frank sighed and rubbed between his eyes, the migraine already building and you haven’t even left yet. He relented though when he saw the disappointed look on your face. “Fine. Take the pistols. Only the pistols.”
He couldn’t help the slight lift on the corner of his lips when your expression brightened before you hurriedly strapped the pistols onto your holsters, sneaking a few knives in when you thought that Frank wasn’t looking. The two Marines shared a look, one already exhausted while the other highly entertained.
“I’ll put her on a leash,” Frank groaned. Billy raised his eyebrow but bit back the dirty joke on the tip of his tongue at the warning look Frank shot him.
Frank did put you on a tight leash. He kept a close eye on you and he kept to his word of keeping things strictly recon. At least for you that is. You quickly learned that being on a mission with Frank was incredibly different from what you were used to in SHIELD. There was very little finesse in how Frank would just walk into a gang hangout disguised as a laundromat and start punching information out of people. It wasn't the most polished of methods, but you had to admit that it was damn effective and you couldn’t help the spark of appreciation and awe you felt.
"What are you smirking at?" he asked, wiping his bloody fists off on the end of his shirt as you walked back to the car.
You chuckled as you shook your head. "Just amazed at finally seeing the Punisher in action. You really are a fucking tank, Frankie."
He rolled his eyes and smiled as you patted the back of his shoulder, worried for a moment that he might have scared you with his violence. In his mind you were still the young woman he pulled out from a hellish torture and he couldn’t help but worry for you. The instinct to protect you was still strong despite knowing now how capable you were, but it was also just nice to see you smile and be playful. He liked that look on your face.
"You've been spending too much time with Billy."
"Yeah, that's true," you laughed. "But he did give me some tech before we left and I tapped into all their phones while you were busy fighting. I should be able to dig up something from that."
He stopped in his tracks and pulled you back by your arm, looking at you with disbelief on his face. “Are you telling me you could’ve just done that and spared me the trouble?”
“We needed a distraction so I could hack them.” You shrugged and smirked at him, clicking your tongue as you continued walking. “Besides, I wanted to see you beat up a few thugs.”
His jaw dropped open for a moment before he shook his head and followed after you. “Billy really is rubbing off on you.”
“Not exactly who I want rubbing on me,” you doubled over laughing at his horrified expression. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for that to sound so suggestive.”
He laughed now too, more relaxed as you both entered the car. “Yeah, you did.”
“Yeah, I did,” you snickered.
Frank let you help out a bit more since then, your espionage training with SHIELD came in handy with breaking locks and hacking into surveillance. It made it easier for Frank to catch a group unaware when he had you whispering the blueprints in his ear. You both went from lead to lead and hideout to hideout, Frank charging in with you kept at a safe distance. He still refused to let you get your hands dirty, always saying you weren’t ready yet for that but really the image of you captured was still fresh in his mind and he couldn’t live with himself if it happened again under his watch.
“Jesus fuck! Are you trying to make it hurt more?” he growled, looking down at you with as much indignation as he could muster when his bloody ass cheek was out and close to your face.
“Stop whining. It’s your fault you got shot in the ass.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unfortunate placement, but it did somehow distract you a little from being so close to a mostly naked Frank with blood marring his perfectly sculpted torso. He really was a sight to behold, all hard rippling muscle that could easily crush the life out of anyone but was trying to hide the shiver he felt whenever your warm breath fanned across his skin. You grinned to yourself as he continued to mutter above you, carefully stitching up the wound on what you decided was a very adorable butt.
It didn’t feel awkward though. It never did with Frank, you realized. Your automatic trust in Frank had allowed you to be as unembarrassed as one could possibly be from the moment you word vomited your life story to him to now when you're sewing his skin back together. There was no shame in just being your raw selves with each other and after years of having to live up to expectations with your family and then with the Avengers, it was liberating.
“It would have been better if you shot the guy before he shot me,” he grunted as he took a long drag of whiskey.
“It would have been better if you had let me enter the warehouse with you instead of keeping me on lookout,” you said, purposely pinching him a little too hard in retaliation. He jumped and glared at you. “You’re lucky I didn’t listen to you and brought the sniper rifle anyway this time.”
“Where the hell did you even hide that thing anyway?”
“A lady never reveals her secrets.”
He shook his head as he let you finish up. He had to admit that you were getting craftier and he noticed just how quickly you adapted and learned with each mission. You had quickly found a way to get more involved with tech, stitching him up, and even sniper support. He appreciated that you had his back and he found himself easily trusting you with his life too.
You were his partner.
Sometimes your chasing for leads meant you would go days in a certain place or have to travel further from New York. Sometimes it required you both to find the nearest dingy motel or safehouse to crash. It was in one of Anvil’s safehouses in an out of the way town that the nightmares resurfaced.
Salvacion.
A name. A curse. A mission. A promise that you carried with you since that day you left Jill crying alone in the cemetery. Your only purpose in life right now was finding the bastard that killed your sister and make him pay. It was consuming you.
The first time Frank heard it, he wasn’t surprised. He was jolted awake, but he wasn’t surprised. He had his fair share of trauma and truthfully if you weren’t having any nightmares at all after the hell you’ve been through then he would be more worried about you. This was normal to him. He expected your blood curdling screams to pierce through the night followed by loud racking sobs. It alternated, going back and forth between tormented thrashing to agonized wailing.
He stared at the ceiling as he listened to you, sighing deeply and biting the inside of his cheek as your suffering made his own heart clench. He had to hand it to you for keeping it together this long though. The level of strength you had to endure was something he deeply admired about you from the start, but all strong things have a breaking point.
Perhaps it was the silence of this rural town compared to the constant chaos of the city or the fact that you were no longer too physically drained to just pass out. Perhaps it was the fact that you were now actually pursuing your mission, the possibility of facing the cause of your nightmares at any moment keeping you on edge. Perhaps it was the prospect of needing to kill on the offense and not as a defensive strategy this time. Whatever it was, it would take a while before your screaming stopped.
He closed his eyes again and tried to will himself back to sleep. He knew trauma all too well and each person dealt with it differently. He was on the brink of sleep when he heard the door of his room hesitantly push open, even if he knew who it was his hand still slipped under his pillow to grasp at the pistol hidden there.
“Frank?”
His chest constricted again at the sound of your voice. You sounded so small and so frightened, nothing like the cheeky little shit you’ve evolved into. You sounded much more vulnerable now than you did when he pulled you out of that Hydra base. For the first time in the few years that he’s known you, you sounded as wounded as he knew you were. He kept his eyes closed but consciously softened his usually surly tone.
“Nightmare?”
“Yeah.”
“How bad?” he asked even though he knew and the whimper you tried to suppress nearly broke him.
“Really bad.”
There was a beat of silence as you struggled to get your next words out and Frank didn’t want to rush you or insist on anything for you. Curtis told him that if you wanted help, he had to give you the chance to ask for it yourself but damn it he didn’t know it would be this hard to resist the obvious sorrow in your voice.
“Can I sleep here tonight?”
He made a rough noise that he hoped you understood as an affirmative as he rolled over on his side, but when he didn’t feel the other side of the bed dip with your weight he cracked open his bleary eyes in search of you. He frowned when he found you on the floor fluffing your pillow and spreading out your thin blanket.
“You’re not sleeping on the goddamn floor. It’s cold.”
“Well aren’t you gonna get cold on the floor too?” you sassed and he couldn’t help the fleeting smile on his lips, reassured you were still somewhat okay despite the obvious evidence of tears on your cheeks.
He scoffed as he scooped up your pillow and placed it beside his own before shifting back to a comfortable sleeping position. “Just get in. I’m tired.”
You clutched your blanket to your chest, staring silently at him with fresh tears edging your vision and a grateful smile on your face. You crawled in next to him, keeping a careful distance because you didn’t want to intrude on him more than you already had. You stared at his large back, the muscles taut but his breathing relaxed.
“Thank you, Frank.”
“Yeah, whatever. Just for tonight.”
It wasn’t just for that night. The nightmares continued to plague you and the only way you could seem to get any form of sleep was if Frank was next to you. He himself would fall asleep hours later, once he was sure he heard your breathing even out and each time you jerked as you struggled with your dreams his eyes would shoot open to wait until you had fallen back to sleep.
“Just come to bed after you shower.”
You paused at the doorway of your room, looking back at him in confusion. He had never directly asked you to share his bed and he didn’t know it, but you struggled with yourself each time before you knocked on his door. A large part of you felt guilty for putting even that on him when he has already done so much for you. You had already caused him so much trouble. You were afraid you had become a burden to him.
“What? You’re just gonna wake me up anyway when you come in,” he grinned, trying to ease the guilt that was written all over your face. if he was being honest, he didn’t mind having you next to him. He liked it even and he took selfish pleasure out of being the one you chose to be with you in your vulnerable states. He took pride in knowing that you trusted him in that way. “I can’t sleep without your snoring now. I got used to it.”
You rolled your eyes and smiled sheepishly at him. “Thanks, Frankie.”
For the first time, Frank fell asleep before you did with the weight of the day’s sleuthing taking a toll on him too. For the first time, it was Frank’s screams that disturbed the peace of the night. For the first time, it was Frank who needed company.
“Frank? Frank! Frankie, wake up!” you said urgently as you shook his shoulder. His eyes were squeezed shut as he shouted in angry gibberish, his body twisting as if something was burning him from the inside. His arms started to swing aimlessly, his elbow catching you sharply on your lip.
“Fuck!” you hissed as you touched the sore spot, feeling the small split and the blood seeping through.
You would have spent a bit more time being annoyed but his thrashing quickly grew more violent with his hands clawing at his chest and his legs kicking beneath him. You let fly a few more curses before you lifted yourself to straddle him, pinning his lower half down with your hips and grabbing his wrists to stop him from hurting himself.
“Come on, Frankie! Wake up for me.”
Perhaps it was entirely the wrong approach to try to subdue a six foot tall, 200 pound, ex-Marine who was having an unconscious fight response. The next thing you knew you were flat on your back with the wind knocked out of you, a large hand wrapped tightly around your throat, and blazing dark brown eyes boring down into you. You gripped at his muscled forearm, trying to pull him off of you as you wheezed his name.
You saw the murderous expression on his face quickly shift to recognition and then to horrified guilt as he realized what he was doing. You expected him to pull away, put as much distance between you as possible and probably kick you out of his room. You were close to Frank, a special bond was shared between you but you also respected how he tended to be more reserved and subtle with his affection.
You didn’t expect for him to pull you up and crush you to his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck and breathing in heavy gulps of air as he tried to calm himself. Your body soon sagged against him after the initial shock, settling in more comfortably on his lap as his arms wound tighter around you. You rubbed his back slowly, kneading the knots on his tense muscles until they released. Your free hand was used to hold his head in place, a silent way of telling him this was okay and he could take his time.
“I hurt you,” he muttered against your skin, a small shiver running down your spine at the feel of his lips on your pulse.
“You didn’t hurt me.” You felt his muscles tense again as he prepared to argue, but you beat him to it. “You didn’t mean to. You were having a -”
“Nightmare,” he finished for you. You nodded your head as you continued your lazy massage.
“It was the kids today wasn’t it?”
His silence was louder than any words he could have said. He’s told you before of the bloody brutal past he carried and the vengeance that followed that birthed the Punisher. When he shared his story with you was when you understood why you felt a different kind of closeness to Frank. It was then you understood why he didn’t want you on this path and why right now he was adamant on seeing it through with you. Retribution was a lonely path.
And he didn’t want you to be alone.
The warehouse you had been observing today shocked you both, discovering that the manpower used to pack drugs were all children. Orphans probably or homeless children. Runaways and strays. All around the age that Frank’s children were when they were killed. It triggered his ghosts to haunt me once more.
It was a while before Frank slowly pulled away from you, still holding you close but now frowning at the obvious cut on your lip. He cupped your face and ran his thumb gingerly over it, stopping immediately when you winced at the sting.
“I’m sorry,” he gulped.
“You didn’t mean to,” you reassured him again, placing your hand over his and nuzzling your face against his rough palm.
The tense silence stretched between you, his intense eyes following the movement of his thumb that now was tracing along the corner of your mouth. Your own eyes roamed his face, relishing the rare chance to actually study his handsome features from this close until you became fixated on his lips too. You were so close now that you could feel his breath on your face and the electricity buzzed around the small space that separated you, pulling you unconsciously closer to each other.
“Y/N,” he whispered, struggling to hold himself back.
“Don’t you fucking dare apologize.”
“I’m not gonna take advantage of you.”
“You’re not,” you said, laughing nervously. “If anything I’m the one taking advantage of you here.”
“You’re not,” he blurted out, his firm tone settling your nerves.
You smiled softly at him, locking his gaze with your own. “I want you, Frank. I want this.”
Instinct took over from there. His hand slipped to the back of your neck and pulled you close as his lips swooped in to capture yours in a messy kiss that was more a desperate tangle of tongues than anything else. You sighed against his mouth and it was all he could do to not just rip your clothes off, the need to feel your bare skin against his growing urgent. You did it for him, whipping off your sleep shirt and pulling him closer to you as he hurriedly took a pebbled peak in his mouth. You arched your back and grinded your rapidly soaking core against his prominent bulge, moaning his name as he growled against the soft flesh of your breasts.
“Please, Frank. No teasing,” you panted, whining sharply as he gripped your ass in both hands and pressed you down harder against him. “Not tonight.”
He pushed you down onto your back, tearing off the rest of both your clothes before slotting himself between your thighs. He almost lost it when he felt the heat and wetness of you rubbing on his bare length, coating him in preparation. He kissed you again and squeezed your breast, already addicted to how you tasted and felt. You were so soft, so pliant beneath him, so raw and vulnerable.
In an odd moment of coordination in your lustful frenzy, you both reached for each other and groaned in unison. You felt each other shudder, his fingers spreading around your slick and toying with your aching bud while you pumped and squeezed his generous length. He was going to split you in half with the girth on that thing and you could hardly wait.
“Frank,” you gasped, biting into his shoulder. He cursed sharply as he speared you with his fingers, your back arching and your hips pushing forward for more.
“Gotta get you ready first. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said through gritted teeth. “Goddamn, you’re wet.”
He watched with pride as you writhed beneath him, gradually losing parts of yourself as your whole body began to answer only to him. Your skin felt heated and the coil inside you was tightening with each stroke of his fingers against that tender spongy spot inside you.
“Yeah? Right there?” he asked, pressing the heel of his palm hard on your clit. Your eyes fluttered close, suddenly overwhelmed by the sensations. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”
You did. You let go and the relief you felt was freeing. It wasn’t just the shaking orgasm that he gave you, it was the surrender of everything that has held you so tense for the past years to someone you unconditionally trusted. It was the much needed respite from everything that had been weighing you down.
When he pulled his fingers out of you to drive his throbbing cock into your welcoming heat, it felt more than just sex. It was more than just a physical thing, it was the joining of two fragmented souls where the scattered pieces sought each other out to form something new. The handful of times you’ve been intimate with boys before didn’t even come remotely close to how it felt to be pleasured by this man. It was bliss. It was comfort. It was protection.
It was a beginning.
“Frank,” you choked out, your eyes starting to sting with tears. Everything felt simultaneously too much and not enough. Your nails dug into his back as his slow thrusts became harder.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
He held the back of your thigh and hitched it up higher on his hip, angling you to take him deeper. He rested one forearm beside your head, keeping you from hitting the headboard as he slammed into you. He pressed his forehead against yours, muttering praise against your parted lips. He wanted to give you more. God, he wanted to give you everything.
“You feel so good. So good.”
The kiss he gave you was gentle, a stark contrast to how his hips pounded into you now. Your breaths mingled, panting and shallow as the pleasure built between you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit that spot over and over, chanting his name as your mind grew hazy. Just a bit more. Your body twisted as you tried to reach your climax and he saw your struggle. He reached between you to thrum at your clit and with one more sharp snap of his hips, you went barreling into your release.
“That’s it. Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”
Your whole body shook with the impact and he swallowed your screams with his mouth over yours. His thrusts became punishing, erratic now as he chased his own release while your walls still fluttered around him. The primal growl he let out as he came inside you sent fire across your skin and the sweet kiss that followed warmed your heart.
He pulled away from you slowly, just enough to look at your face, raising himself above you and cupping your cheek. You were both still out of breath and your pulses were still jumping out of your skin, but the smile you both shared was sated. He stared down at you with unmistakable fondness.
“You’re beautiful.”
Your relationship with Frank surprisingly didn’t change all that much after that night except for the fact that it was now expected that you would sleep in the same bed and that at some point one of you would reach out for the other for more than just sleep. He would kiss your pouting lips every time now as well before he charged alone into another hideout, firmly ordering you to stay in your spot behind the sniper rifle but that he would be back soon. For the most part it was fine, but word must have gotten around that the Punisher was making house calls.
“I’m coming in, Frank!” you yelled into the comms. The heavy gunfire was loud both through the earpiece and from your perch on the abandoned building a street over.
“Like hell you are! Just shoot them from there.”
“There’s too many of them, you stubborn idiot! You need back up.”
“It’s not safe goddamn it!” he growled, his irritation growing at his lack of control in the situation. He didn’t like the thought of you coming in. He didn’t like it one bit.
You could hear him grunting in frustration as he tried to fire off his own shots. You bolted out of your hiding spot, trying to keep your steps as quiet as possible as you rounded to the side of the warehouse where Frank was. You peeked through the windows, the chaos inside granting you an opportunity to go unnoticed. You carefully slipped in, pulling out two pistols at the ready as you positioned yourself behind the crowd that was preoccupied with hailing bullets at your partner.
“Deep breaths, Y/N. You can do this,” you whispered to yourself in an attempt to calm your racing heart.
This was the first time you were again in the middle of an actual fight and your hands were shaking, struggling to keep a grip on your guns. You swallowed the hard lump in your throat, willing away the horrid flashbacks that came unbidden. The last time you were in a fight, your entire team was badly overpowered and nearly beaten. The last time, Bucky had almost gotten taken by Hydra again. Last time, you were meant to die. You didn’t realize that you were hyperventilating until Frank’s pained cry pierced through the haze of your consciousness and shocked you back into focus.
“Frank?” you choked out.
The silence from the other end was deafening and the worst case scenarios ran through your head. All of a sudden everything became louder in your ears. The rapid gunfire. The shouting of the men, jeering at taking down the Punisher. The clinking of bullet shells as they hit the polished concrete of the floor. The fast shallow breathing weakly captured by your comms. The pounding of your heart in your chest.
“Get outta here, sweetheart,” Frank whispered harshly. “Get out now.”
Everything abruptly snapped into focus and the noise dissolved into the background. You cocked your pistols, raising them steadily as you stepped out from behind the crates. One quick sweep at where the enemies were and your plan was decided. Your eyes narrowed as a singular objective took over.
Get Frank out.
The first bullet you fired hit the target nearest to you square in the back of his head that was thrown back in laughter, celebrating their victory far too early. Your shots were still clumsy, a mixture of adrenaline and anxiety making you miss a few, but fortunately the enemy was too distracted to notice immediately.
It wasn’t until four more bodies had fallen that the enemy noticed you and redirected their shots to you. Your steps forward toward each man with a pointed gun at you grew more confident as you forced yourself not to falter, your eyes burning with murderous purpose. You had to get Frank out. You instinctively fell back on your training as you used the scattered crates to your advantage, jumping and rolling in and out of cover with each shot as they continued to drop dead one by one.
Your mind was concentrated on counting the bullets you fired, reloading smoothly with deft hands just as the last bullet flew off. Finally, the last man dropped dead and the warehouse floor was painted in a sea of blood and weaponry. It was eerily quiet now and relief washed over you when you heard the all too familiar grumpy voice.
You ran toward the sound, dropping to your knees immediately as you spotted him. He was leaning back on a large pillar with one of his legs outstretched, a long strip torn from his shirt was wound around his thigh as a tourniquet. His blood was bright and wet on his clothes. It was bad, but Frank was alive. He would make it.
“You just don’t listen, do you?” he said curtly, more mad at himself than you for your involvement. Something that looked suspiciously like pride glinted in his eyes when he opened them despite the disapproving frown on his face.
“You’re lucky I don’t,” you scoffed, thanking every god you didn’t believe in that he was well enough to still scold you for not following orders as usual.
“Did you just light up an entire warehouse of thugs on your own?”
“I learned from the best,” you chuckled before your tone became more serious as you saw his frown turn deeper with the discomfort. “Can you walk?”
“Just need a little help,” he nodded.
Hauling this beefy man up with his injured side draped heavily on you was a feat in itself and it was going to take a lot out of you both to get to the car. You were about to make a snarky remark about how he should lay off the pizza for a while when he shoved you hard, practically throwing you behind the nearest solid cover. Your exasperated complaints died in your throat as a fresh barrage of bullets fired behind you, sending fragments of cement and wood flying at the impact.
“Frank!”
“8 o’clock!” he shouted back and you understood instantly. You reached for your gun and slid across the floor, firing at the direction he instructed. You clipped the shooter on the shoulder, causing him to stumble back and giving you the chance to really look at his face.
His familiar face.
Your gazes locked, yours wide with the shock of recognition and his flashing with a smug amusement. You raised your gun again as the anger began to rise in you, but before you could fire he had turned to run. There was no thinking about it first. There was no consulting with Frank if this was a good idea. You ignored Frank’s furious screaming for you to not do it.
You chased after him.
You knew him. You knew his face. It was one of the faces that was unfortunately seared into your memory. He was there. He was there the first day you woke up in the hands of Hydra, looking far too excited to start carving into your skin. He was there when your sister was brought in, laughing maniacally as you screamed for them to let your sister go. He was there when you plummeted into a cold state of shock as they wheeled away your sister’s dead body. He wasn’t Salvacion but he was a closest lead you’ve got. He was sure to know something. You weren’t about to let him get away.
You chased him through the inner corridors of the warehouse, firing your gun at him until you hit him on the back of his thigh and sent him stumbling face first to the ground. You were on him before he could recover, flipping him roughly to face you and pressing the muzzle of your gun between his eyes.
“Where’s Salvacion?”
The smile he gave you was malicious and not at all deterred. “Looking good, Y/N. It’s good to see you alive after all these years.”
“Can’t say the same about you. Now where is he?”
You pressed the gun harder when he cocked his head to the side, smirking as he saw the scars running down one side of your neck. “I remember those. I had a lot of fun with that one in particular and if I remember correctly it runs all the way down your back.”
“Where is he?” you said through gritted teeth, your jaw tense with the flimsy hold you had on the rage that threatened to spill over.
“I’ve missed you, Y/N. You always were a tough one to crack. Even until the very end I hardly broke you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy trying,” he chuckled as your eyes narrowed and you growled down at him. “At least you always have something to remember me by. Well more than a few souvenirs.”
“Tell me where he is,” you hissed, digging at the bullet hole in his shoulder with your thumb. He yelled as he struggled beneath you, throwing you an outraged glare.
“You’re asking the wrong questions, little girl. This is bigger than just one hired hitman. It’s bigger than just you and your sister. You have no idea what we have planned.”
His laugh made your blood boil and you couldn’t help yourself when you raised your hand and slammed the butt of your gun to his nose. He groaned in pain, but the asshole still had the gall to smile up at you with blood gushing from his nose to his mouth.
“Listen here, you son of a bitch. You either tell me where Salvacion is or I’m going to make sure I repay every fucking scar you gave me.”
“Let me guess. You want to avenge your precious sister, right?” He licked his lips at your uncomfortable silence, taking pleasure in seeing your grip start to shake.
“Shut up,” you snarled, digging the barrel down harder on his forehead.
“I liked your sister, you know. She wasn’t like you.”
“Where. Is. He?”
“I wish Salvacion had let me have a turn with her. She was such a good girl.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Lily screamed so sweetly for him.”
“I said shut up!”
It was her name on his busted lips that finally made you snap. He had no right to say Lily’s name. None of them did. They had no right. Not after what they did. The blinding fury took over from there, each bullet fired accompanied by lashing words.
You let him murder her!
You let him torture her!
You made me watch her scream!
You made me watch her die!
You let her believe I didn’t care about her!
Frank dragged himself from the floor, leaning heavily on the walls to keep himself upright as he painfully struggled toward where you had run off to. The sound of a magazine hastily emptying pushed him to go faster and when he finally rounded the corner to where you were, it completely broke his heart.
Your voice, chanting accusations over and over, was broken by your sobs as you continued to fire the now empty gun. The trigger clicked with each pull, but you didn’t even notice it. You were too consumed by the grief that you had been trying to keep under control. The dam was open and you had no strength to seal it back.
Frank cautiously limped toward you, wincing at the state of the man beneath you. You fired all your rounds point blank at his face, leaving him virtually unrecognizable. He wrenched the gun away from your hands and threw it aside, lifting you off by the shoulder but falling to the ground with you in his own injured state. He held you in his arms and you curled into his chest as he scooted farther away from the dead body.
Even through the blur of tears and the tidal wave of emotion that drowned you, you recognized his touch. You recognized the safety of his embrace. He soothed you by crushing you closer to himself, the physical pain he felt was far outweighed by the suffocating heaviness in his chest at seeing you like this.
He heard you. Even faced with the very person who was responsible for permanently marking your body and tormenting you for what must have felt like a hopeless eternity, you were still thinking of your sister. Your anger was for your sister. Your vengeance was for your sister. Your life right now that you were begrudgingly living, was for your sister.
What about you?
Someone needed to think about you too. Someone needed to be on your side, enact a vendetta for you, protect you, make you see that life could still have value for you. Someone needed to be yours.
Frank decided that he would be that person, but he also knew that he alone wouldn’t be enough. As much as he knows by now that he felt something deeper for you, he knew that there was a part of him that he never would be able to completely give to you. He knew that you needed more. He knew that you deserved more.
Those same thoughts were swimming in his mind as he walked into Anvil in the dead of night, startling Billy at the sight of you both and making him almost drop his beer. He was alarmed and a dreadful sense of deja vu filled him with the image of you again unconscious in his heavily limping best friend's arms and covered with blood. Frank shook his head to calm him down.
“It’s not her blood. She’s just asleep,” he said, keeping his voice soft and low to not wake you when it had been so difficult to get you to sleep.
“What the hell happened?” Billy asked as he came closer, rubbing his thumb gently on your brow to smooth the frown.
“You still offering to come on missions with us?”
“Yeah, Frankie, of course. Why?”
“Because I’m gonna need a stronger leash.”
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Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist
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mochegato · 3 years
Text
Even the Losers
Chapter 3
Chapter 1     Chapter 2
Monday morning came both too soon and too distant for Marinette’s taste.  She looked up at the dark, intimidating Wayne Enterprises building as she and Max walked past it on their way to the cafe and swallowed hard.  She should have figured she would have to pass by the Wayne Enterprises building at some point, but she still wasn’t ready to see the dominating building so close.  They were a few blocks away and she still had to crane her neck to see the top.
Of course M. Fox would want to meet near his office.  He was already being beyond considerate having the meeting outside of the office building, expecting him to meet far away from his work was excessive.  She could stomach it.  It was just a building.  This meeting was important.  This was Max’s chance to wow M. Fox and get an amazing position.  She took a deep breath and continued forward despite it feeling like wading through increasingly deep water the closer they got to the WE building.
Max touched Marinette’s forearm to gain her attention.  She nearly jumped at his touch but quickly covered with an embarrassed smile and inquisitive hum.  “Are you okay?”
Marinette glanced toward the WE building but quickly looked back to him with an unconvincing smile.  “Yeah, it’s fine,” she tried to assure him.  Judging by the frown forming on his lips, he was unassured.
“Is there anything I should know?” Max asked uncertainly.
“Nothing of consequence,” Mari promised with a weak smile.
Max adjusted his glasses nervously and darted his eyes between Marinette and the sidewalk ahead of them a few times, trying to work up the courage to ask the question on his mind.  “Marinette,” he started slowly.  “You didn’t do anything illegal for the plan.  Did you?”
Marinette whipped her head toward him wide eyed. “What?”
Max cringed under her gaze.  “I just… you’re a very devoted friend and…”  He sighed and looked away.  “I just need to know if we need to worry about the Waynes coming after us.  I’d like to be prepared.”
Marinette's dour expression turned giddy as she started laughing joyfully.  After a minute, she wiped away a tear that had started to form in the corner of her eyes and fixed Max with a sincere look.  “No.  I didn't. None of us did.  I would have, but no laws were broken in the making or execution of this plan.”  She grinned and looped her arm through his, pulling him forward with a lighter step than before.  “I just presented your work to M. Fox and he was extremely impressed.  Come on, the cafe is just around the corner.”
Max gave her an unimpressed look.  “Are you sure?  Because I’m pretty sure I may have violated a few laws tracking down the call you had me trace last week.”
Marinette suddenly froze, her smile becoming significantly weaker.  “That wasn’t part of the plan.  That was a separate quest,” she tried to joke.
“And it just so happened to be M. Wayne’s phone number.”  His skepticism was clear in his voice even if he was too polite to call her out directly.
“It wasn’t part of the plan, really,” she promised quietly.  “That was… It had nothing to do with getting you a job.”
Max opened his mouth to ask another question but was interrupted by Marinette’s phone ringing.  Marinette pulled it out and rolled her eyes at Alya’s name lighting it up.  She hit the button to ignore it with a shrug.  “She’s probably really excited to see how your meeting went and didn’t convert the time correctly,” she laughed to Max.
Max smiled and nodded in agreement.  He opened his mouth to comment but Marinette’s phone started ringing again.  She furrowed her brow at it this time and groaned.  “Very excited,” she grumbled, hitting the ignore button again.
Max opened his mouth again but again was interrupted but this time by his phone and Marinette’s phone.  He pulled it out and looked at it.  “Nino?”
“What the Hell, Alya,” Marinette grumbled.  She was about to hit the accept button so she could yell at Alya to leave them alone but got interrupted by a loud cry right in front of her.
“Hey, it’s you!”
Marinette and Max looked at each other with matching confused looks.  The man that had said it pulled out his phone and switched on a recording device.  “Do you have any comment on the story in today’s paper?” the man, likely a reporter Marinette decided, demanded, shoving his phone in her face so violently, it would have hit her if she hadn’t jerked her face back in time.
Marinette stared at the man for a few seconds, her face scrunching in confusion before quickly smoothing over into an impassive mask. “I haven’t seen the paper this morning. So no, no comment on a story I know nothing about.”
She tried to push past the reporter only for him to move immediately into her path.  She looked around as more people joined, not reporters, she didn’t think, just people interested in finding out what was going on, rather than helping them.  The reporter pushed further in front of her, refusing to let her pass.  He held the day’s Gotham Gazette in front of her face.  Marinette had to back away in order to actually be able to read the headline.
She had to consciously force her eyes to stop from widening in front of the audience.  She forced her breathing to slow as her eyes scanned the headline and picture.  Across the top of the page in bold, block font was the headline ‘More than One New Wayne Introduced’ above a picture of her and Adrien speaking with Bruce Wayne. She glanced at the caption below the picture, her nose wrinkling in annoyance at the words.  “Newly discovered Wayne, Marinette Cheng Wayne introduces fiancé Adrien Agreste to her father, Bruce Wayne.”
Max gasped at the headline and cocked his head to the side in confusion.  He looked between it and Marinette a few times.  He opened his mouth to comment on how ludicrous it was but decided to defer to however Marinette wanted to handle it.  Instead, he gripped her arm in an attempt to show support and looked around them, calculating different plans to get them out of the crowd.
Marinette took a calming breath and looked back at the reporter with a cool gaze.  “You couldn’t even be bothered to get the names of the people involved correct.  I have little interest in reading the rest, which is likely as poorly researched.  Now if you will excuse me, I have an appointment to get to.”  
She tried to move around the reporter but he stepped in front of her, only centimeters between them as he did, and leaned closer to her.  “Why haven’t we heard of you before Ms. Cheng?  Embarrassed about your family’s history with crime in our city,” he cocked his head to the side and gave her a vicious grinned.  “Or was it your family that was embarrassed about you?”
Marinette bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood and glared at the man.  “It sounds like you are insinuating the Waynes are associated with crime in Gotham. Surely you didn’t mean to insinuate such a thing, right?  Such as slanderous comment,” she tutted in a condescending tone.  “I’m sure whatever publication you’re working for would not appreciate such a careless, defamatory, negligent comment.”
The man puffed out his cheeks, which were quickly becoming red with anger.  He tensed his body.  Marinette tensed hers in response.  What he intended to do exactly, she’d never know because just at that moment, the man froze as a hand settled hard on his shoulder.  “I can assure you that is exactly the kind of allegation Mr. Wayne and Wayne Enterprises would both pursue legal action over.  Now, I believe the young lady said she had an appointment,” Lucius Fox said with a cutting smile.
The reporter scowled at Lucius, but backed away. The crowd of people around parted at his presence.  Marinette shot him a grateful smile.  “Ms. Dupain Cheng, Mr. Kante,” Lucius nodded to them both.  “Are you ready?”
Marinette and Max nodded and moved toward the café ahead of him.  The host led them to a spot toward the back where they could have some privacy.  Marinette touched Max’s shoulder.  She gave him a concerned look.  Max’s eyes darted forward to Lucius and back to Marinette. He nodded then jerked his head toward her.  The smile she plastered on was even less convincing than her earlier one, but Max pretended like it wasn’t.  He leaned closer to her, speaking quietly enough that nobody could hear him.  “You should let Adrien and Alya know.”
Marinette sucked in a breath and looked toward her phone warily.  It was still ringing and chiming nonstop.  She turned it off and leaned closer to Max.  “Markov, can you text Alya and Adrien and let them know we’re all okay but I turned off my phone for a while.  If they need me they can text you or Max and we plan on returning to the hotel immediately after this meeting.  If you both are okay with that.”  Max nodded and lifted the flap for his messenger bag to reveal Markov sitting atop her folded up gala dress.  Markov looked between the two of them and gave Marinette a resolute nod.
“Thank you, Markov,” Marinette whispered, trusting his sensitive sensors to hear her.
When they arrived at the table, Lucius waited for the host to retreat before looking over to Marinette with a concerned look. “Did you need a break for a few minutes or to call anyone?”
Marinette gave him a tight, strained smile and shook her head.  “No, thank you.  I’ll be fine.”  She would make it through this.  She wasn’t going to cry.  She could wallow in self-recriminations later.  Right now, she needed to focus on making sure Max was given his shot.
Lucius nodded and looked down at the menu the waitress brought over.  After a few minutes of silence he glanced over to Marinette.  “Always something going on in Gotham.”  If Marinette didn’t know better she would think his tone was apologetic.
“Certainly has been full of surprises,” she stated instead, focusing on the menu.
“Certainly puts certain interactions at the gala a new perspective,” he observed carefully, keeping his eyes on his own menu.
Marinette’s focus sharpened on the menu in her hands. Her jaw tensed and her lips thinned. “I’m sure you will understand, M. Fox, when I say my private life is not something I care to discuss with people I do not know well.”
Lucius nodded.  “I do.”  He looked over the menu for a few seconds, keeping his face buried in the menu, he lifted his eyes to observe Max, noting his stiff posture.  His eyes were darting over to Marinette every so often and worrying his lip.  “You understand you could have just gotten him a position.  One phone call is all it would have taken.  You didn't need to go through all of this.”  His eyes flicked over to Marinette as he spoke.
Marinette met his eyes, a fierce set to them.  “He doesn't need somebody to get him a position,” she snapped.  “He's brilliant. He just needed somebody to see him.  He just needed an even playing field to shine. He didn’t need me calling in favors.  He’s earned the attention he gets.”
Lucius stared at her for a few seconds, analyzing her before finally coming to a decision.  He set his menu down and nodded curtly.  “No, he does not need help.  His work speaks for itself.  I spent the weekend researching you, Mr. Kante, and I have to say, you are an impressive young man.  You are exactly the kind of talent we seek out.  The fact that we didn’t speaks to the utter failure that our recruiting staff has been.  And I must apologize for what happened to you.  We will be reviewing Mr. Rabler’s actions since he was employed by us to properly deal with any other incidents such as yours.”
Max nodded, adjusting his glasses with a satisfied smile.  He was saved from trying to come up with a response when the waitress came back to take their orders.  There was a brief lull after the waitress left, Max and Marinette both uncertain where to push the discussion next and waiting for M. Fox to drive the conversation.
“Now, if I did my research correctly,” Lucius started with a secretive smile, “then I expect you have someone else with you.” He looked pointedly at Max’s bag.
Max’s smile turned sheepish and he opened his bag to let Markov come out.  “This is Markov.  I was hoping he would be able to work with me.”
“Of course,” Lucius nodded in agreement.  “It is nice to meet you, Markov.”
Markov zipped up higher in excitement.  “It is very exciting to meet you, M. Fox.  I have found very exciting information about you and Wayne Enterprises.”
Lucius chuckled.  “That is good to hear.  We will have no issue with Markov working with you, but we have added several sections to your contract to cover what Markov is allowed to do and what he isn’t. We have a lot of sensitive material, as I’m sure you are aware.  We are quite paranoid about protecting it.  We have also come up with a contract for Markov, but legal says we have to add sections to your contract as well since legally, Markov is not considered his own entity.”
Marinette beamed at Lucius and squeezed Max’s hand under the table, never more certain than at that moment that Max was going to be taken care of.  Max pretended to adjust his glasses so he could wipe at his eyes.  He looked over to Markov to gauge his response.  Seeing the weepy eye display, Max smiled and looked back at Lucius.  “Thank you, M. Fox for your consideration.  It means a lot to us both.”
Lucius gave him a soft smile and looked over to Marinette.  “We also have a contract for you, Ms. Dupain Cheng.  I had legal draw it up yesterday.  Not excited to work on a Sunday,” he shrugged guiltily, “but we gave them a lot of compensation for their time.  I drew it up before I knew of any other… associations so Mr. Wayne may want to modify it, but it is there if you are interested.  We will need a designer for the project, someone with intricate knowledge of fabrics and a demonstrated ability to work with them. Given your involvement thus far and your work on the dress for the gala, you seemed like the natural choice.”
Marinette looked down and took a breath.  She looked over to Max to see how he was faring. He gave her a supportive smile and nodded to her.  “As I said before, that is kind of you to offer but I have other plans that do not involve Wayne Enterprises.  And my ‘involvement’ thus far has been getting your attention.  It would likely be better for the project if you continued without me.”
“That is not strictly accurate,” Markov spoke up.
Max nodded in agreement.  “Your help was invaluable, Marinette.  Not only your insight into different characteristics in different fabrics and how changes affected the elements of the fabric, but also the different approaches to problem solving.  I could not have done this without you,” Max stated earnestly. He turned to Lucius.  “She worked with me to explain tensile strength and different weaves and how that would affect how the fabric appears and what you can do with it.”
Marinette’s eyes widened and she looked over to Lucius quickly.  “He’s being modest.  He did the work.  He came up with the formulas.  He…”
She was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress with their food.  Lucius waited for the waitress to leave before he sent her a soft smile.  “I understand collaboration, Ms. Dupain Cheng. Mr. Kante’s words don’t make me doubt his work.  If anything, it confirms my faith in him.  I also researched you this weekend, Ms. Dupain Cheng.  You are quite talented.  Your designs are elegant and bold and you personally have always gone out of your way to help your community.  Those are all ideals Wayne Enterprises strives for.  Along with what Mr. Kante said, you should know, I’ll be pursuing you and it has absolutely nothing to do with your…. With Mr. Wayne.”
Marinette looked down to her plate with a blush and nodded.  “Thank you, M. Fox.  I will consider it, but…” she furrowed her brow in frustration, not knowing how to say what she was thinking and not knowing if she should even if she could.
“You have time to consider it, Ms. Dupain Cheng. But for now, we should eat.  The food here is extremely good.” Marinette’s shoulders relaxed and she sent him another grateful smile.  She looked over to Max and Markov and smiled before taking a bite of her breakfast.  “Now, Mr. Kante, I would love to hear more about your invention, unless you would prefer to wait until the contract is signed.”  Max smiled excitedly at Lucius and pulled out the dress as he described the process for working on the fabric while Marinette and Markov looked on proudly.
Chapter 4
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lordoftherazzles · 3 years
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Can I you write something on jealous thorin! I am dying to read something like that... Like Bilbo going somewhere and getting flirted by someone (except elves and dwarves) for example by a normal handsome person. And even Bilbo is attracted and stupified by his elegance and his slender body.
Thank you so much for this prompt!! I love writing a grumpy guy. This one was a lot of fun for me and gave me an opportunity to explore a "during the quest" setting! I hope you enjoy it!
prompt "I do believe our burglar has a type,"
word count 2175
relationship(s) thorin oakenshield/bilbo baggins
character(s) thorin oakenshield, bilbo baggins, the company of thorin oakenshield
additional notes this one was insanely fun for me, that's all I gotta say! I'm LOVING these prompts and ideas you guys are giving me!!
-----
Thorin didn’t like Lake-Town.
Namely, the Master and his greasy little sidekick, but they were given more of a welcome and more accommodation than the bargeman had been able to secure. The sooner they were out of here, the better, but there was still a bit of time before Durin’s Day, and there was no need to camp aimlessly outside of a hidden door.
Celebrations and the promise of riches for all had kept spirits rather high, except for Thorin’s. He had tried to put on a mask, the type that was reserved for social affairs that he hadn’t been a part of since he was a much younger lad. Thankfully this was nothing like the social gatherings that had been held between Erebor and Dale once upon a time.
There was that stench of stale ale in the air, as well as fish, but that seemed to sum up Lake-Town entirely. Thorin sat near the end of one table, tapping his fingers against the wood as his glare seemed to be burning into the back of someone at the second table that housed his company.
Feeling an elbow jam into his own, a scowl formed on his lips as Kili wedged himself to sit at the table, sitting far too close for Thorin’s comfort. “Why the long face, Uncle?” Kili chimed, a small slur to his voice as he had a mug in one hand and the other hugging onto Thorin’s arm. At least the alcohol was keeping the younger dwarf from grimacing every single time he took a step. That shot to Kili’s leg had been bound, but certainly not healed.
“I’m fine,” Thorin insisted with a growl before Fili wedged in on his other side.
“You don’t look fine to me. I know that look. You’re angry.” Fili nearly had a sing-song tone to his voice, but at least he didn’t reek of ale as Kili did.
Another nudge at Thorin’s elbow had the leader of the Company squishing in on himself so that he wasn’t bumping elbows. It was a failed effort.
“Could it be because a certain someone has his attention fixated on someone else? I do believe our burglar has a type,” Fili gave Thorin’s arm a comforting pat, not trying to sound teasing whatsoever. Though the same couldn’t be said for Kili.
“What? Tall, dark, and broody?” Kili sputtered out with a laugh, spilling a quarter of his mug across the table. “Though, I do suppose Uncle could be considered tall for a dwarf!”
Thorin’s face was flushed, be it by both anger as well as embarrassment as he felt his ears burn. He couldn’t let his eyes tear away from Bilbo’s back, or the small nods of fascination that seemed to come from the hobbit as he was engaged in deep conversation with one of the Lake-Town locals.
A tall fellow, dark hair wedged beneath a hat and a beard that surpassed even Thorin’s own. Not that the dwarf was examining this fellow that much, but he was one of the more reasonable fellows to look at in this fisherman’s town. Never before had Thorin been concerned about his appearance, not like this, and yet here he was, idly reaching a hand up towards his shorter beard and scrubbing at the coarser hairs that didn’t measure up to any sign of beauty among dwarves.
“There is a solution in all of this, Uncle. You could just go over there and sweep the burglar off his feet for yourself?” Fili offered up, trying to sound helpful, but he was fixated with a glare that told him to snap his jaw shut.
“I am not bothered if Mister Baggins chooses to socialize during our stay. I will not tell my company who they may or may not speak with.”
“Yeah, but it’s what we do with those we speak with that may capture more of your attention, right?” Kili jammed his elbow into Thorin’s arm again. “Or rather, one specific person. You couldn’t give a whit what Fili or myself do while we’re here, or Dwalin or Nori, but you get my point. However, when it comes to him, you care.”
“I do not care,” Thorin insisted once more, feeling like a tightly sealed vault full of feelings instead of gold.
“All we’re saying is that if you’re waiting for the right moment to make your move, it’s probably now. Or someone is going to beat you to it.” Fili always seemed to be slightly more mature one of the two nephews, but his words were just as unwanted as Kili’s.
“You’re both wretched little creatures and the topic will cease, now.” Thorin’s stern tone seemed to ward off more harassment when it came to Bilbo, save for one parting statement.
“Alright, we’ll sod off, but I gotta say, green just isn’t your color, remember that.” Fili gave Thorin’s shoulder a fond pat before moving to fish his younger brother away from the table with no small amount of difficulty. That wound, accompanied by a few mugs of ale, didn’t make it easy for anyone to toddle off.
Thorin was left to his own devices, tapping his fingers again against the table as he stared and simmered and let the words of his nephews influence that agitation brewing on the inside. Just what did Bilbo find so appealing about this fellow he was chatting and laughing with? What sort of stories could a fisherman in this drab place have to tell? So yes, Thorin was jealous, almost on an embarrassing level. It made him even more agitated to feel this way, but then again, these were feelings that he hadn’t felt before.
Life had been hard and duty-bound for so long, and where Thorin Oakenshield had assumed he had seen it all, he was now being sent into an uncomfortable frenzy over some butterflies in his stomach. It made his insides hurt, but there was a quest to focus on, and the rest could wait until after. A mountain was far more important than his silly little love life. Once he reclaimed his homeland, surpassed the expectations of those around him, and set Erebor back on the path to greatness-
Oh, who was Thorin kidding? Bilbo would be long gone by then.
It made a sinking feeling enter his stomach, tearing at those angry butterflies as he dropped his head some. What was more important? Pining? Or extreme focus on winning a mountain? If he let this go, would Thorin ever truly be focused on the quest at hand?
Swallowing thickly as he lifted his eyes to catch a lingering hand at Bilbo’s back, whatever tentative stare had dared to glance towards Bilbo was snuffed out in favor of a roaring blaze of a glare.
Jolting up from his seat and rounding the table towards the next, Thorin held zero hesitation to land a hand next to where Bilbo was leaning on the table - dreamy eyed and seemingly enamored with this fisherman fellow sitting next to him. “Master Baggins, if you don’t mind I’d like a few moments of your time.” Bright blue eyes darted towards the tall fellow who looked rather perplexed at the sudden dwarf’s appearance. “Alone.”
Bilbo gave a small wave of dismissal, “I best take this conversation, though I appreciate the fine stories you brought. You don’t want to see this one in a bad mood,” Bilbo teased, clearly indicating that Thorin was temperamental and unpleasant and- well, maybe he was right. The hobbit shifted in his seat as he and Thorin were left alone, staring up towards the standing dwarf and looking rather delighted - much to Thorin’s dismay. “What’s so important now, Thorin?”
“I did not expect for you to be such an obvious flirt,” Thorin grumbled, a bit of displeasure to his tone as Bilbo’s face twisted to more surprise than anything.
“Me? Oh, that?” Bilbo had a grin twitching on his lips. “Does that bother you?” Bilbo twisted in his seat, looking over towards the bar where his previous company had sauntered off to. “He is rather attractive, isn’t he? A bit rugged looking, with long locks to die for, and quite a nice beard.” Bilbo rubbed the air around his chin as he was describing said beard, eyes darting to the corners as he barely caught Thorin’s frustration in his sights.
“I suppose.” Thorin hissed between his teeth, shifting in his boots and wondering just how far a chair could sail if he kicked it.
“Though I prefer blue eyes, myself. His were brown, and he wasn’t a dwarf. A moody dwarf, specifically.” Bilbo spoke as he patted the seat next to him. “Do you wish to join me, Thorin Oakenshield?”
Thorin was certain his jaw could hit the floor as he stood there and felt his face heat up. Bilbo looked entirely too content and pleased while he stood there like some red faced fool. “I...I beg your pardon?”
“I was wondering how long it would take you to stomp over here instead of huffing over there. Thorin, if you think you’re subtle, you’re not.” Giving the seat next to him another pat, Bilbo used his free hand to claim the stein before him once more. “You’ve been staring at me all night, and ever since we escaped Mirkwood for that matter, but I wasn’t going to bring that up.” And yet he had.
Thorin stood there dumbstruck for a moment before slowly sinking into the seat next to Bilbo’s own in silence. Gnawing at the inside of his cheeks for a good moment, the dwarf wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Had he truly been that obvious? Thorin thought himself a rather reserved fellow who was decent at schooling his emotions and expressions. Perhaps he wasn’t nearly as good at that craft as he assumed. “And all of this was just for show?” He asked quietly, finally daring to look towards Bilbo at his side with extreme caution.
“Really, Thorin…? Are you truly this dense?” Bilbo’s laugh sadly was not contagious. He was an observant sort, at least for the most part, so as he noticed Thorin’s face turn a touch redder, Bilbo quieted down before nudging Thorin’s arm a bit and dropping his voice. “I simply figured you had enough on your mind without adding myself to the mix.”
Which was exactly what Thorin had planned on. Win the mountain, secure Erebor’s future, and then the rest would follow. Well, as he had told Balin before, plans changed.
“Plus, watching you squirm between your troublesome nephews was rather amusing.” Bilbo grinned proudly.
Thorin’s brows furrowed slightly as he shifted his gaze and felt a little bit of that embarrassment start to flow away from his face, though still rosy cheeked. “You’re as considerate as you are cruel, you know that?” Purposely driving that jealousy to a point where Thorin couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I’ve been called worse,” Bilbo reached up just as Thorin leaned down, latching his hands against both of those braids that lined the sides of Thorin’s head, giving them a small tug before both of them came to a pause at bumping noses and foreheads. “Ah, Thorin?”
“Are you truly wanting to ask me a question right this second?” Thorin murmured, bright blues focusing on the hazel ones that were so incredibly close to his own.
“Well…” Bilbo started before his eyes flickered to the side, which caused Thorin’s own to shift, following Bilbo’s gaze.
A table crowded with dwarves all staring with amusement and all the cheekiness in the world.
Thorin pulled back slightly, fully turning his head to face that company of his with a small sigh escaping his lips, but he didn’t look nearly as put out as one might expect.
“Don’t make me come over there and smash your heads together!” Dwalin barked over the table, earning a chorus of laughter - and even a small huff of amusement from Thorin.
Bright blue eyes shifted to meet hazel eyes once more. “I don’t fancy being entertainment for anyone,” he started while sliding from his seat, “save for you, Master Baggins.”
That low murmur just about sent Bilbo melting into the floorboards as a large hand engulfed his own. “I should have started flirting with others a lot sooner,” Bilbo chuckled before being fixed with a look as he too was slipping from his seat.
“I would be most obliged if you saved your flirting for me. Alone. Away from this miserable audience.”
And boy did he not have to tell Bilbo twice. The hobbit followed one a step or two behind Thorin, one of his smaller hands still gripped in a larger dwarven one, and honestly, propriety and expectations could go hang themselves. Bilbo didn’t give a whit at the groans and catcalls that followed during Thorin and Bilbo’s retreat, but no doubt there would be more conversation to be had in the morning over breakfast...
...Or perhaps second breakfast. Bilbo had a feeling that sleeping in tomorrow may be inevitable.
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vrishchikawrites · 3 years
Note
Hello, this is the prompt I wanted to send you.
WangXian fic set during the sunshot compaign after one of their famous fights. They stumble upon an array that shows the future and It activated when WWX touched it. The array started showing glimpses of married and in love WX going on dates (yunmeng date), night hunting together, kissing, pillowtalks and aftercare, adopting children, teaching at the CR... YLLZ! WWX feeling jealous and bitter and not understanding why. The reveal that LWJ's husband is WWX, his falling out with the Jiang sect and JC's role in his death. Basically a fic where YLLZ! WWX finds out that after all these hardships he is finally going to be happy, have his own family and be with the love of his life where he is loved, cared for, respected and appreciated. And longing to have that future with LWj.
It can be a fix it fic with a happy ending please.
Posted on Ao3 here
Alternating POV - Wei Wuxian - Lan Wangji - Wangxian - A bit angsty with happy ending - Mature. Betaed by Moonyju.
I hear your heart beating in your chest
Wei Wuxian isn't the one to dwell on the past or look towards the future. He lives every day as it comes and faces every challenge without carrying burdens forward.
He has never planned for his future, not really. Some vague dreams here and there, but nothing real. Wei Wuxian learned at the tender age of four that the future is unpredictable. One day you wake up to your mother's warm smile and your father's gentle words. The next day, you have lost those things forever. Life has proven this to him repeatedly.
Future is uncertain, present is the only certainty Wei Wuxian believes in.
So, when he and the illustrious Second Jade of Lan stumble into an array while rescuing a few civilians. An illusion of sorts surrounds him, obscuring the real world outside the array. He doesn’t pay much attention to what it reveals. Instead, he focuses his attention on the array itself, carefully examining its intricacies. A single glance is enough to tell it is some sort of temporal array, a shade of what cultivators use for preservation purposes. But it also seems to have some form of an illusionary element to it. He tilts his head to the side and crouches down to study it.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan calls, almost in warning but Wei Wuxian is content to ignore him for once. Lan Zhan has always drawn too much of his attention and it rankles now more than ever.
Another quarrel, another needless argument about Wei Wuxian not understanding the depth and implications of his actions. Sometimes he wonders if Lan Zhan intends to sound as dismissive or haughty as he does when he confronts him about Mo Dao. He likes to believe Lan Wangji is above such petty things, but the man’s dogged refusal to accept Wei Wuxian’s path and his relentless quest to fix something that can’t be fixed is getting on his last nerve.
“Wei Ying,” He looks up at the sharp tone, meeting a pair of golden eyes in question only to be arrested by something akin to embarrassment tinting Lan Zhan’s stoic features. He glances towards the illusion and stills, somewhat stunned by the scene before him.
It is Lan Zhan. Or a version of him. He’s broader, with more mature features and a much sharper gaze. But that’s not the most astonishing thing, no.
Lan Zhan is… kissing someone.
It is someone shorter than him, with long hair tied up and away from a fairly pretty face. Wei Wuxian eyes the way Lan Zhan cradles the face and guides it towards his kisses, gentle and full of affection.
It entrances him for a moment. He can’t help but stare at the scene, taking in how Lan Zhan seems to lean in again and again, to press closer like he can’t get enough. His heart races and he doesn’t really understand why it is suddenly so…
“Wei Ying!” He drags his eyes away from the illusion and looks at his Lan Zhan, who seems increasingly flustered despite the relatively calm expression on his face. His ears are bright red and he’s pointedly not looking in the illusion’s direction.
He smiles teasingly, “Aiya, Lan Zhan, it looks like the older version of you is more relaxed.”
“It is a trick.” Lan Zhan protests immediately but Wei Ying dips his eyes down to scan the array again and shakes his head. There are several clues that highlight the array’s purpose clearly. Lan Zhan is no less knowledgeable than he is so he must see it too.
The denial is already fading from the Second Jade’s features and Wei Wuxian stands up, brushing his knees absently. He glances at the illusion and feels something strange pool in his stomach, something like dread, when he sees the pair again. Lan Zhan is pressing the strange person to the tree behind them, pinning her- no-
He peers closer, swallowing when Lan Zhan’s hand disappears into the person’s robes. Lan Zhan’s… companion is clearly not a woman, that much was apparent at first glance. But it is even more apparent when those robes fall open under Lan Zhan’s questing fingers.
Somehow, that feels worse.
He struggles to maintain his composure and fixes a grin on his face, “Well-” The scene shifts abruptly and Wei Wuxian barely withholds a gasp, his eyes immediately drawn to the older Lan Zhan’s peaceful face. He’s sleeping, his arms wrapped loosely around the same companion from before. The room around them seems like it is in Cloud Recesses, perhaps Lan Wangji’s home?
His eyes turn back towards Lan Wangji and he takes a careful breath, heart aching for some reason. He pointedly doesn’t look at the man’s companion and silently turns to look at the array again. The time element is solid, undisturbed and clean. More than a simple illusion, a clear glimpse of the future.
But…
He looks up and the scene has changed again. Lan Wangji is with that man again. They stand side by side and the man is leaning against the Second Jade brazenly but Lan Wangji doesn’t seem to mind. He has his hand low on the man’s back, a gesture that reads distinctly possessive. The scene wouldn’t be out of place in any family. There’s a husband, there’s a wife, there’s a child clinging to the wife’s robes, and there’s a young man standing before them with a smile that speaks of affection.
The array seeks to show people a glimpse of their future. Lan Zhan is seeing his life as a settled man of a good family.
Wei Wuxian doesn’t exist.
He takes a careful breath as that thought settles in his mind. He has always known his path is treacherous but something in him burns to see life move on so peacefully without him.
The world has never had much space for him. When he was a child, no one had space to let him rest. As a youth, his place at the Lotus Pier was small, surrounded by thorns. The space keeps shrinking and shrinking ever since he stepped out of the Burial Mounds. He imagines at some point it will vanish altogether and Wei Wuxian will be forced to vanish with it.
Melancholy doesn’t suit him but the ache of it strikes him powerfully now.
The sight of Lan Zhan moving on – they’re not even friends, what does he need to move on from? – shatters something in him.
He can’t summon a smile.
Wei Wuxian locks his jaw and ignores his racing heart as the scene goes on. The young boy saying something to Lan Wangji’s partner and the partner grinning in response.
Lan Wangji’s expression is soaked in affection, despite how stoic it appears. The corners of his mouth are softer and there’s a fond light in those golden eyes. Wei Wuxian has never seen something so beautiful.
He watches as the young man leans down and plucks the child off the ground and carries him away, both of them waving to Lan Wangji and his partner until they’re out of sight.
Wei Wuxian’s heart shudders when Lan Wangji discreetly pulls his partner closer and buries his nose in his hair, expression content.
Suddenly, it is unbearable.
He brings his thumb to his mouth, ready to tear into his flesh and disrupt the seal with his blood. It would take very little to get them out of here safely. Lan Zhan has seen enough good things about his life, there’s no need to linger.
No need for him to find out that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t exist during this peaceful time. He knows the man cares about him enough to be upset if he is lost.
Just as he’s about to bite into his thumb, fingers wrap around his wrist tightly.
Wei Wuxian looks up to see Lan Zhan gazing at him with wide, stunned eyes.
```
Wangji accepts what is happening almost immediately after Wei Ying shakes his head. He has always had a more intuitive understanding of spells and talismans. It is rare for Wei Ying to be mistaken in such matters.
So, this is his future. A glimpse of things that will happen a few decades down the line. Wangji is uncertain what to make of it. His ears feel warm as he witnesses the intimacy between partners. There’s enough affection written on his older self’s face to know the relationship is real.
He looks at his… companion. He doesn’t lack beauty. A delicate countenance, inky black hair, and a pleasing form. He looks almost alarmingly similar to Wei Ying, with only small differences. There’s an echo of Wei Ying in his smile and even the way he tosses his head back and laughs reminds Wangji strongly of the man beside him.
Only Wei Ying has never looked at him like that. This man’s face is flushed with passion, lips bitten red by his partner’s kisses. There’s a teasing sparkle in his eyes that makes his breath still in his chest for a moment. It reminds him of the expression Wei Ying wore all those years ago when they ran across the rooftops in Cloud Recesses.
How… is it possible for this man to be so similar?
He glances down at the array, trying to decipher what it seeks to accomplish. Wangji has never seen anything like it but there are enough familiar elements in it to deduce its purpose. It is clearly designed to show them their future, to create a sort of mirror that reflects images of their future life into the past.
Wangji tears his eyes away and turns to Wei Ying, a few questions already forming in his mind.
Wei Ying’s expression arrests him.
Wangji stills, unable to move his gaze away from Wei Ying’s face. There’s something bitter about his grimace and flinty in his eyes. He watches the scene with an almost animal expression, lips pursed in displeasure – furious – Wangji realizes with an indrawn breath.
For a short, heartbreaking moment, he fears it is disapproval, disgust for a cutsleeve relationship.
That impression doesn’t last.
Wei Ying’s hand goes briefly to his chest and something very much like open, raw pain crosses his face, wiping away the anger. The expression… is nothing close to disgust.
It is a short, unguarded moment and it ensnares Wangji completely. His heart races in his chest as several realizations happen in an instant.
Wei Ying is an ever-smiling sprite, mischievous as they come. He rarely shows any true sorrow and Wangji has only seen him show true anger three times over their acquaintance. It is easy to become convinced that nothing can touch the formidable Wei Wuxian. But standing there, looking at Wangji’s future with a bitter expression, Wei Ying seems shattered.
The expression is devastatingly open. In that instant, Wangji has no problem understanding Wei Ying better than he has ever before.
Wei Ying’s expression twists before every inch of vulnerability is gone from his face. It is wiped clean and almost cold, colder than he has ever seen Wei Ying be. He locks his jaw and brings his hand to his mouth, his movements stiff and sharp.
Wangji shoots forward, wrapping his fingers around Wei Ying’s wrist. He feels the pulse hammering under his fingers and his own heart races in an echo of it. Wei Ying’s eyes are sharp and defensive, hiding the pain that Wangji had glimpsed clearly before.
In contrast, Wangji feels almost breathless with elation, “Don’t,” he says, pulling Wei Ying’s hand away from his mouth. His hand doesn’t shake but he feels shaken. Wei Ying scowls at him, which is also something he has never done, “Don’t.”
“Lan Wangji,” Wei Ying says curtly, “This isn’t for me to see and we have seen enough. Let go.”
Wangji tightens his fingers, unwilling to let go. He studies Wei Ying’s face carefully, finding it unreadable once again. In fact, Wei Ying is uncharacteristically quiet, not teasing him about his future partner, not commenting on the cutsleeve relationship, not even mentioning his older self’s appearance.
The silence speaks loudly.
'Don't nurture foolish hope,' Wangji thinks to himself but it grows in him anyways. It is strange that a single glimpse of an unguarded emotion is enough to alter Wangji’s perspective so much, but it does and now he isn’t inclined to let the matter go.
“Don’t destroy the array,” He requests, “Something isn’t right.” Wei Ying should be present. The array shouldn’t focus on Wangji’s future only. He doesn’t know who the strange man is but he can’t imagine being with anyone but Wei Ying.
Is his heart so fickle? Can it stray from Wei Ying that easily?
It is unsettling to consider it.
“We can figure it out once we’re away from this illusion,” Wei Ying says, making a visible effort to muster his usual nonchallance but Wangji sees they way his eyes flicker away, looking at the couple in the illusion briefly before glancing down at the array like he can’t stand the sight of it.
“Wei Ying-”
“Aiya, er-gege, what are you doing to your poor Wei Ying?”
Wangji glances sharply at the illusion as Wei Ying stills, his arm going tense in his grasp.
The pair in the illusion are now closer and somehow their conversation is audible. The voice is strange but the cadence and rhythm is entirely Wei Ying, teasing, playful, pleasant.
Wangji’s grip tightens as he sees his future self pull his companion onto his lap, a spare Lan forehead ribbon in his grasp. It has the clan markings, it belongs to a clan member but Wangji’s ribbon is already on his forehead.
He swallows and feels the pulse beating against his fingers speed up as his future self wraps the ribbon around his partner’s forehead.
“Wei Ying must wear it for today’s ceremony,” His older self says and his Wei Ying sucks in a sharp breath, his hand going lax in surprise, “Xiongzhang has requested it.”
“Well, if Xichen-ge has requested it, this one must obey,” Wei Ying sounds… happy. And it is Wei Ying. The face is different but the smile, full of mischief and life, is the same.
“What… is this?” His Wei Ying asks, baffled. He looks down to study the array more keenly, trying to determine why the illusion looks different.
Wangji is hearted to see the stiffness of his features melt into curiosity, “Lan Zhan, why would the array alter my appearance and not yours?” He asks, no longer attempting to pull away from Wangji.
The illusion is still playing in the background, showing what will happen several years down the line. But Wangji isn’t curious now. The present is so much more interesting.
Wei Ying is looking at the array, the conversation in the background is cheerful, full of intimacy and affection, the pulse against his fingers is still beating rapidly.
There’s a flush crawling up Wei Ying’s neck.
Wangji observes. He sees the blush crawl further and settle on Wei Ying’s cheeks. He sees teeth digging into soft lips, anxious. He sees eyes flicker towards him, towards the illusion, before moving away.
‘How can I bear it,’ He asks himself and gives in. He pulls the hand in his grasp to his mouth, pressing his lips against the center of Wei Ying’s palm and closing his eyes.
---
Wei Ying fears his heart will fail if this continues. The lively chatter of a couple in love surrounds them and his Lan Zhan is pressing his precious face against Wei Ying’s hand, cool but utterly content. The feel of his petal-soft lips against the rough skin of his palm is enough to drive him to distraction.
He doesn’t know how to react or what to say. He doesn’t want to pull his hand away but there’s a strange, almost unsettling sensation low in his stomach, not unpleasant, but very unfamiliar. Wei Ying has flirted with people before but he has never felt any true attraction towards them.
But the longer he remains inside this array, the more he learns about himself.
Lan Zhan moves, taking a step closer, dipping his lips lower to brush against Wei Ying’s exposed wrist.
His breath trembles as he gasps. The sensation is almost sharp, knife-like. He feels his entire body change and respond to it. He feels his fingers curl, his hair stand on end, and his body lean forward.
There’s a flash of teeth.
“Lan Zhan,” His voice is shamefully raw, everything he feels is written in the tone of it. Lan Zhan reacts immediately and Wei Ying goes, helpless against him. Lips slide over his and a warm, strong body presses close. The kiss is harsh, full of tongue and teeth. Desperate like Lan Zhan has been holding himself back and has finally been granted permission.
Wei Ying sways in place, lightheaded as a tongue slides over his and licks the roof of his mouth. ‘What is this,’ he wonders dazedly. There are strong fingers around his wrist and neck, showing no indication of every letting go. There’s a slight popping sound in his ears and he absently notes that the illusion has dispersed but Lan Zhan doesn’t give him time to think.
He yelps when Lan Zhan moves a hand down his back and grabs him under his thighs, lifting him up in a smooth movement. Next thing he knows, he’s pressed against a rough surface and his lips are captive again. His skin burns wherever Lan Zhan has touched it. His mouth feels raw and hot when they pull apart.
He stares when bright golden eyes look at him, edged with heat that he didn’t think Lan Zhan was capable of feeling.
It takes a moment for him to collect his thoughts under that direct gaze but he manages, his bruised lips curling into a teasing smile, “Er-gege, how shocking!” He leans forward, confident that Lan Zhan won’t drop him, “Look at what you’ve done to your poor Wei Ying!” He lifts the hand Lan Zhan had kept captive, showing off the redness he can feel around his wrist.
Lan Zhan glances at it but there’s no remorse in his expression, not even a hint of apology.
Wei Ying feels a delighted laughter bubble in his chest at this new revelation. The reserved and taciturn Hangjuang-jun is capable of such passion! “My, my, who would have thought you’d take advantage of me like this?” He drapes his hands around Lan Zhan’s neck, bringing his lips close to a flushed red ear, “You didn’t even ask, just held me tight and took what you wanted. How bold! How shameless!”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice is lined with warning but Wei Ying doesn’t care. He feels utterly safe, utterly content, for the first time in years. What can touch him when he is in Lan Wangji’s arms?
“Is it always going to be like this?” He teases, “Now that you know I am to be yours, probably your husband or will it be wife? Will you kiss me… maybe even fuck me, whenever you wish?”
“Be silent.”
“Aiya, Lan Zhan, how can I be silent now? You have awakened my curio-” Another fierce, biting kiss interrupts him and Wei Ying laughs, delighting in Lan Zhan’s eagerness. Everything fades, all serious and practical considerations hold no meaning. Later, when he is alone in his tent, he will think about how unreachable this dream is, but now he is happy to submit to Lan Zhan.
---
War progresses as it must. Wei Ying continues to remain on his cultivation path but his touch is a bit gentler now. He isn’t as ruthless as he used to be.
It takes effort and patience. It takes many bitten back reprimands and angry words. It takes months and months of careful questioning before Lan Wangji understands the incredible, breathtaking sacrifices his beloved has made. Not even Wei Ying can stop him from seeking out Wen Qing and asking for her assistance. Not even his brother can stop him from offering shelter to her family in exchange. Not even Jiang Wanyin’s bitterness can stop Wangji from protecting Wei Ying.
He does what he must because he understands. That Wei Wuxian, the one from the array, had endured terrible strife. More strife than Wangji can ever allow his Wei Ying to suffer.
Wei Ying will survive and thrive.
Wangji will make sure of it.
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sunflowergirl522 · 3 years
Text
Runaway: Their Journey Begins
Pairing: Tiefling!Bucky x Elf!Reader
Summary: Bucky takes a lot of jobs to make a living and this one was no different. Except for the fact that it’s for an elf prince and elves tend to avoid him in general. He accepts and with Sam and Steve they start their journey to find the elf prince’s runaway bride.
Word Count: 3355
Warnings: Language
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
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The tavern is crowded and full of life except for one dark corner where Steve and Bucky sit drinking from their mugs of beer. Sam had immediately joined everyone else instead of following his friends to their lifeless corner upon their arrival. They had all decided to celebrate the mission they just completed with a drink at their usual place.
“How mad do you think Sam is that we had to trade away his lute for the jewel?” Steve chuckles as he asks and takes another sip of his beer.
“I’m sure there’s still steam coming out of his little ears,” Bucky laughs. “Where is he anyway?” As the two of them look out into the crowd of people trying to spot their friend a table crashes to the ground drawing everyone's attention. Sam’s standing where it once was in front of an orc who looks like he’s trying to make sense of what just happened. Steve and Bucky look at each other before rolling their eyes at how drunk and angry Sam is. They know immediately that he had to have been the one to knock over the table and that he’s about to start a fight.
“Watch where you’re walking you big oaf! You almost trampled me!” Sam kicks at the orcs legs as he speaks. The orcs' eyes narrow in on Sam realizing that he had been the reason the table was knocked over and his drink now covering his lap instead of sitting in his mug.
“You spilled my drink on me. Who do you think you are halfling?” The orcs' voice booms through the tavern as he picks up Sam by his collar.
“It’s your turn.” Steve reminds Bucky as he nonchalantly takes another drink from his mug.
“I know, I know.” Bucky downs the rest of his drink before forcing his way through the crowd. “For such a half pint you sure cause a shit load of trouble Sam.” He grumbles to himself before addressing the orc in the room. “Hey buddy! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
“Get out of here helmet head, I have no issues with you.” Bucky snarls at the insult thrown at him and cracks his knuckles.
“Yeah, well now I got an issue with you.” He lands a punch in the orcs stomach causing him to drop Sam in shock, who immediately dashes over into the corner with Steve.
“Okay devil man, you asked for it.” 
The orc swings for Bucky who dodges it while landing another blow to the orcs chest. The crowd in the tavern bursts into chaos and cheers as the fight begins. Bucky manages to dodge another punch just to catch a blow to the face from the orc's other fist. He stumbles back a bit from the force of it and can feel the tear in his lip from his fang. He growls at the smirking orc in front of him. He jumps at him, shoving him over onto a table before climbing on top of him and throwing punch after punch at the orcs face. 
Then the doors swing open and everyone freezes as elven guards file into the tavern. The gold of their armor hints to the fact that they’re sun elves. It was rare to see elves in this area. And it was unheard of to ever see a sun elf anywhere other than their territory or in a war. So seeing all the guards fill in the perimeter of the tavern is enough to stop Bucky mid punch. A hush falls over the crowd as an elf prince walks in. He stops in the doorway and scans the place in disgust before his eyes land on Bucky. He makes his way over to him and stops in front of the table. He cringes at the bloodied orc before speaking.
“I’m in need of your services.” Bucky’s eyes go wide for just a second before the orc underneath him groans, drawing his attention back to him. He lands one final blow to his face before standing up and motioning for the prince to follow him over to Sam and Steve. The prince grimaces at the sight of Sam, so drunk he’s barely conscious, and very hesitantly takes a seat across from them while Bucky leans on the wall behind them crossing his arms.
“What can we do for you?”
“Find someone for me. My bride to be has disappeared under my watch. As of this morning she was missing from her room and she’s not in my kingdom. It’s preferable that you find her before her father realizes that she’s missing. I believe that she was kidnapped though any enemies we have wouldn’t have known that she was visiting.” 
“What does she look like?”
“She’s a moon elf.”
“I assure you, your majesty, that we don’t see a lot of moon elves in our profession. We’re gonna need a description to find the right girl.” Bucky spits out and a moment of silence passes before something clicks in Bucky’s head. “You’ve never even seen her have you?” The annoyance in his voice isn’t hidden and Steve bursts in quickly so Bucky can have a moment to stew in whatever he’s thinking of saying.
“Where was she last?”
“The last any of my guards or her guards saw her was in the room she was using during her visit.”
“And you probably won’t even let us go there.” Sam hiccups break apart his slurred sentence as he picks his head up from the table just for it to fall back down when he finishes speaking.
“Your drunk friend would be correct. My kingdom is no place for creatures like yourselves.”
“So let me get this right.” Bucky pushes off of the wall and leans his hands on the table and brings his head down to the prince's height. “You expect me to find some lost princess with no description, no reason for someone to take her, and not even be able to try to track her from where she was last?”
“I can give you a piece of her clothing for a scent.” The prince nonchalantly removes his gaze from the nails he was boredly examining and makes eye contact while he speaks.
“I’m not a damned hound!” Bucky snarls and slams his hands on the table causing many guards to step forward. Steve quickly stands up effectively shoving Bucky back and stopping him from doing anything stupid.
“We’ll look for her. Do you have any suggestions on where we should start looking?”
“There’s a town called Tavin that I’ve heard she spends time in, it’s not far from the kingdom, I’d start there.” The prince then stands up and motions with a finger for a guard to step forward. He drops a bag of coins onto the table and Steve grabs them before Sam can open his eyes to get a glance of it and try to snag it. “You’ll get the rest of it after she’s returned safely to the outskirts of my kingdom.” The prince throws over his shoulder as he starts to walk out of the tavern.
“What an entitled fucking weed eater! How the fuck does he think we’re gonna find his precious fucking princess?” The noise Bucky’s fists make when they slam into the table cause heads to turn in their direction and also causes Sam to groan out something about trying to sleep.
“Are you the best at what you do?”
“Of course I am.” Bucky scoffs out, annoyed that Steve would even second guess that.
“Then we shouldn’t have any trouble finding her.” Steve smirks at his friend knowing he had won whatever argument they would have over this whole quest. “Now let's sober up Sam and get ready to go.” He tosses Sam over his shoulder with just a small protest from the halfling and starts to make his way out of the tavern. Bucky follows behind him grumbling to himself in Inferno and makes sure to kick the passed out orcs legs on his way out.
***
They had let Sam sleep for an hour in their room at the inn not far from the tavern while they repacked their belongings. Once they woke him up they gave him a meal and some water to get him more alert. It’s the system they use every time Sam gets drunk too soon before leaving for a quest. They had to create it because Sam always insists that he can drink just as much as them and not get drunk even though he does every single time.
“So what exactly are we doing again?” Sam asks from atop Steve’s shoulders. He had climbed up after not even twenty minutes of walking because he was tired. He shoves some bread into his mouth while he looks at Bucky for an answer.
“We have to find some elf broad for this dick of a prince.” Bucky’s fists haven't been unclenched since they left town. He stalks ahead of his friends in his annoyance without realizing it. His annoyance only amuses Steve because he knows that once they get to Tavin and pick up a trail he’s going to be on top of it.
“Bucky’s still upset that the prince didn’t give us a description or anything to work with.” Steve looks up at the halfling on his shoulders as he explains the hostility in their friend's voice.
“I’m annoyed because the guy seems like an ass!” Bucky yells back over his shoulder.
“An elf gal huh? I have the perfect song for this!”
“No!” Bucky doesn’t even need to turn around to know that Sam’s reaching behind him to grab the lute that he made them stop to buy on their way out. 
“Fine but only because it’ll be tough to play on someone's shoulders.”
After a long time of walking the trio comes to a crossroads and according to the map they have, both paths will eventually lead them to Tavin.
“I’ve been to Tavin before, if we go right we’ll get there faster than if we go left.” Bucky looks at Steve and points his thumb over his shoulder at the path to the right of the sign.
“Buck, I’ve gone to Tavin a hundred times. If we go left it’ll take longer, yes, but there’s a small village in between us and Tavin that we could stop at to rest and pick up whatever we’ll need.”
“Steve, if I wanted to stop at a town I would’ve said we should go left. The prince said that we should find her before daddy dearest finds out so we should take the quicker path. And I don’t know about you but I want this over and done with already.”
Their bickering continues for a short while before Sam gets annoyed and looks at the map himself. He takes into consideration what bothe of his friends said and how much he would want to walk before he starts walking one way while bringing his lute around his shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Steve calls out to Sam while Bucky smirks at him knowing that Sam’s just made their decision and went with his path.
“I’m gonna find me an elf lover!” After speaking Sam immediately starts to strum and sing a song about the love between an elf and a halfling. Steve shoots his own smirk at Bucky knowing that he’s gonna have to deal with his singing now. BUcky only groans before they both follow close behind Sam.
“Why did I have to befriend a bard?”
“Because said bard has saved your ass on more than one occasion.” Sam answers the rhetorical question still strumming along.
“Shut it shortstack, you were only able to help because no one can see you coming.”
“Can we just all agree that you’re both idiots and move on with our lives? I’d rather not spend the whole trip listening to the two of you argue the whole time.” Steve can’t speak without chuckling over how ridiculous his friends are.
“Alright.” Sam goes back to his song.
“Fine.”
The trio walks on for hours with Sam playing songs here and there and all of them cracking jokes at one another. They walk until after sundown and well into the night. Thanks to the stash of food Sam always has, they don’t even need to stop to hunt for some food.
“Can we stop walking now? It’s starting to get so dark we can’t see the path.” Sam asks as clouds begin to drape around the moon dimming their light source.
“Maybe for you but that’s why I’m here.”
“He’s right, Bucky. We should set up camp for the night, we could all use some sleep anyway.”
“Alright, c’mon, there’s a clearing off to the side of the path up ahead. We can set up there, I’ll start a fire.” Bucky leads his friends up the trail just a little farther before turning off of it and taking his pack off. He leaves Sam and Steve to set up the tent since the moon starts to peek through the clouds providing just enough light to work and goes off to search for wood for a fire. When he comes back he finds Steve sitting outside of the tent with Sam sleeping soundly inside.
“Do you think we really need a fire? I’m getting ready to head in to sleep too.”
“You’re telling me this now? After you let me go off to find the wood.” He drops all the wood at his feet before moving to sit next to Steve.
“I thought you could use some time to yourself to calm down a bit about this quest.” Bucky just nods at him and leans back on his hands.
“Do you really think we’re gonna find the girl Steve?” He asks after a moment of silence passes by.
“Of course I do Buck. As soon as we get a hint of where she is you’ll be able to find her in no time.”
“But what if she doesn’t want to be found?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking and the prince said that no one knew she was visiting right? So how would anyone of known to kidnap her from the kingdom? She could have just run away, I mean the prince doesn’t seem like he’s much of a catch, if I was being forced to marry him I would run away too.”
“I don’t know Buck, from what I’ve heard arranged marriages are rare even among elves. I’m sure if they were getting married they knew each other. I’m gonna head to bed, you should too.”
“Yeah, I will in a bit.” Steve nods and heads into the tent while Bucky looks up at the moon. He can’t help but believe that Steve’s wrong. It has to be an arranged marriage, why else would the prince not know what she looks like.He sits there thinking to himself and looking up at the moon for a while before making his way into the tent.
***
“Rise and shine sleepy head! It’s time to get this show on the road!” Sam bursts into the tent strumming wildly on his lute to get Bucky up. The tiefling groans and flicks Sam with his tail before sitting up. “Shit! You’re so fucking grumpy when you wake up.”
“Because it means another day of having to deal with you.”
“Yeah whatever, put a shirt on and come outside so we can pack up the tent already.”
“Morning Buck.” Steve greets from his spot on the ground where he’s looking at the map. “It looks like we’ll make it to Tavin by noon.” Bucky finishes pulling his shirt over his head as he walks over to his friends to take a look in the food pack.
“Morning.” A strand of his hair falls over his forehead and he runs a hand through his hair between his horns. “The pack’s almost empty, we’ll have to get more food when we get to Tavin.”
“Steve got up and caught some rabbits so that’s something.” Sam speaks in between bites of the roll he has in his hands. He nods his head towards the fire that the rabbits are cooking on.
“You’re not allowed to hold the pack anymore Sam.”
“What, why?”
“I know you’re the one eating all the food. You can be in charge of the tent pack from now on. Now come help me take it apart while Steve finishes packing everything else.”
Bucky and Sam get their gear out of the tent before starting to tear it down. Bucky throws his cloak on and packs up his leather armor while he leaves Sam to pack up each piece of the tent. When Sam starts to reach for the food pack Bucky grabs it before swinging it over his shoulder with his own stuff. And once more they start their journey to Tavin.
***
Tavin is a lively town with merchants and musicians littering the streets. The people loitering around seem happy as they laugh and talk amongst each other. Bucky brings his hood over his head as they reach the crowded town, hiding his horns the best he can. He never knows how people will react to seeing a tiefling walking among them so unless he’s normally in a town he’ll do this.
“You think we should try the tavern first?” Steve asks while motioning to the building with a sign reading ‘La Luna’.
“Yeah, if that doesn’t work we can start asking merchants.”
“Well, what are we waiting for, let’s go!” Sam speeds up thinking he’ll get some food and a drink while they’re there. Just outside of the tavern Bucky grabs onto the back of Sam's shirt successfully stopping him as he tries to keep walking.
“We’re not here to drink, got it?” Sam groans.
“Yeah, yeah, just here to get information. You’re no fun, you know that?” Bucky ignores his friend and follows Steve up to the bartender. Sam grumbles to himself but soon gets distracted by a pretty dwarf sitting in a corner of the place, packing up some food.
“Hey there newcomers, can I get you anything?” The barkeep greets Bucky and Steve as they approach the bar.
“No thanks,” Steve says as he leans against the counter, “we’re just wondering if you could help us find someone.”
“Barely a soul comes through here that I don’t know.”
“We’re looking for a moon elf princess, you seen her?”
“We don’t see a lot of royalty in these parts.” Bucky slides a few coins across the bar knowing how this process works. “Yeah, I’ve seen her. She’s a bit of a regular when she’s out adventuring. Pops actually named this place in honor of her.”
“Has she been here recently?”
“Was here just yesterday, met up with a clan of dwarves who’re here all the time. She left with them.”
“You know where we can find those dwarves?” Bucky leaves a few more coins on the counter.
“You got a map?”
Meanwhile Sam tries to shoot his shot with the dwarf maiden he had spotted.
“Hey sweet thing, my friends and I are in town looking for someone, but I think I might just be who you’re looking for.”
“Maybe you are.” She sends Sam a flirty smile. “But that might depend on who you’re looking for.” And boy is Sam weak to attractive women because he’s quick to spill the beans.
“Some elf princess, I’m sure she doesn’t match your beauty though.”
“Where are you friends now?”
“Over there, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind waiting around if I told them I was leaving with a pretty lady.” Sam points over at Steve and Bucky who’re talking to the bartender and the dwarf watches as Bucky slides coins across the counter with wide eyes.
“I actually have to go.” She leaves in a rush and Sam just shrugs.
“Her loss.” He makes his way over to his friends as the bartender points at the map in front of him.
“Sam, we’ve got a lead.”
Bucky Taglist: @puddinsqueen @koressecretidentity @stevieintheimpala @unmagically @peachytea01 @the-chocoholic-writer @perksofbeingatrex @99-cats @rachmmb @quokkatrash @vanillamaa @strawb3rrydr3ss @that-sarcastic-writer @spideyycents @mackycat11 @crystalsoul2 @rosiemotion @dissectiontime @lmf @jacelynenursalim @aiyanalevina @mooncaffeine @fanofalltheficsx @jewelsrocks99 @lharrietg @yoongisdumplingcheeks @clubcesspool @sailormajinmoon @girl-obsessed-with-things @corvusmorte @sophielovesbarnes @collywobbl @majo240820 @alina02 @toothhurtyam 
Marvel Taglist: @its-the-autism-innit-luv @pogueslandia @obsessedwithbuckybarnes @rorysreallyrandom @sxtansqueen @myalupinblack @aya-fay @lieswithoutfairytales @kakakatey @sugarbutterbailey @1-800-ch3rry @amelia-song-pond @leyannrae @ficsnrec @slut-for-bucky-barnes​ @neenieweenie​ @officiallyunofficialperson​
Everything Taglist: @florenceyelena @ninuffi @i-love-superhero @kolakube9 @lexy9716 @hehehehannahthings
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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years
Text
Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 22 part one
(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)
Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!
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Not Quite Like Old Times
We ended the previous episode in daylight, with Lan Wangji putting Wei Wuxian and swordpoint and declaring his undying love lecturing him about his lack of sword skills.
We start this episode in full night, with the two of them sitting on a roof together. Presumably they spent the missing scenes getting dinner in the mess hall, doing some laundry, and definitely not making out. Fic writers, do your thing.
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Finally, FINALLY, Lan Wangji has chilled out enough to actually sit and listen to Wei Wuxian, instead of yelling at and/or physically attacking him. The Zoloft is really helping!
Wei Wuxian is indulging in romantic recollections of their first rooftop encounter. Lan Wangji, who has loved him since he first laid eyes on him and who wrote a whole song with an entire music video about their love, featuring that very same rooftop encounter, shuts him down so completely he might as well have whipped out Bichen again.
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First he corrects his description of events by pointing out they were fighting, not talking, back then. Then when Wei Wuxian continues in his charming, smiley reminiscing vein, Lan Wangji says "things change, how could they stay the same" with a deep, sad, weariness.
He seems like an old man in this moment, and I feel for him, really, I do. But he's not the one who's carrying the actual essence of death around inside him. Wei Wuxian is being much more generous in this interaction than Lan Wangji is.
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Wei Wuxian thanks him for not narkng to Jiang Yanli about the whole talisman/forced suicide/ghost hummer/ghost flaying thing he did back in Yiling. Like there is any way Lan Wangji would ever tell Jiang Yanli, of all people, something like that about Wei Wuxian.  He's lying to his own brother to cover for Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian totally doesn't get it.
(more after the cut)
Unfortunately, there's no reason Wei Wuxian SHOULD get it, at this point; Lan Wangji has not communicated anything but disapproval to him since his return, and Wei Wuxian, despite their (apparently temporary) mental linkup in the Turtle cave, is not a mind reader.
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Lan Wangji is so hurt here, and Wei Wuxian appears to ignore that, continuing to smile and laugh; he’s still sunny, still happy. Seriously, they are so tonally out of step with each other in this conversation, it's excruciating.
Lan Wangji: I’m feeling good about my tear-holding-back ability Wei Wuxian: do I look more fuckable sitting up? Or leaning back?  
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But every one of these smiles is an absolute lie. This is Wei Wuxian appeasing an authority figure; baffling with bullshit and skating by on charm. This is not a young man confiding in his soulmate.
Even when the conversation shifts, and they talk seriously about what is going on with him, Wei Wuxian is barely confiding anything. He briefly acknowledges that he was in the Burial Mounds for three months, and shudders at the memory, but Lan Wangji doesn't respond to that other than to look away from his face.
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This is almost the last thing Wei Wuxian will ever say to anyone about that experience.  He only alludes to it again when Jiang Cheng visits the settlement and talks smack about their corpse turnips. Lan Wangji says he wants to know why Wei Wuxian’s cultivation changed, but he really doesn’t; he just wants to convince him to change it back.
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Wei Wuxian explains about using Lan clan techniques to protect his temperament, as well as the flute and talismans, to control the resentful energy. This is a good reminder that Wei Wuxian was never a bad student. He was an outstanding cultivator within the Jiang Clan, and he learned a hell of a lot during his time in Gusu, despite getting expelled for fighting.
His original golden core was stronger than Jiang Cheng's, even though he apparently started cultivating later. Yes, he fell asleep during meditation that one time in Episode 43, but that's not because he's bad at meditating, it's because he was tired from getting railed all night by his boyfriend stabbed in the gut by his nephew.
Lan Wangji eventually manages to ask him a question like an interested fellow human being sharing knowledge, instead of like an authoritarian dick calling him to account.  
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Side note: I still am flopping around trying to find good-sounding English terms for Chinese philosophical concepts. I kind of like "ghost path" vs "sword path" for the two styles of cultivation - I don't know where I saw that, apologies to the translator. I like "necromancy" for the part where the dead are reanimated and controlled, because we definitely have that in English. But there are many layers of nuance in these conversations that English is not equipped to render in a natural-sounding way.
Lan Wangji tells him, again, that it's dangerous, but this time he does it in a gentler and more poetic way, saying it's like taking grain from a burning fire, and says he's in danger of becoming the novel version of Wei Wuxian a demonic cultivator.  Wei Wuxian, also gently and seriously, says he knows.
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Then he immediately goes back to his lightest tone and promises, with his three-fingers gesture, that he will not fall into demonic cultivation. This gesture is basically the Wei Wuxian "I am totally fucking lying" salute.
He is totally fucking lying, and he MUST know it. He's baking the Yin tiger amulet every day during his meditation, getting ready to use it against Wen Ruohan, getting ready to take over his army of the dead.
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He has the audacity to ask Lan Wangji, "do you believe me?" and Lan Wangji, also totally fucking lying, nods.  Their relationship is just as broken right now as it was before their courtyard sparring session.
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You can tell it's broken, because after they've reached this apparent place of peace, Wei Wuxian just hops down off the roof and LEAVES Lan Wangji sitting by himself. When has Wei Wuxian ever been like "gotta go!" with Lan Wangji? The last time they were here, he spent the night sleeping on the roof tiles just so he could be near him.
As he leaves, Lan Wanji stands up and says "let me help you." Wei Wuxian is not a fan of that idea, at all, if his expression is any guide.
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He agrees, though, and leaves smiling, apparently for real, but maybe just practicing for all the fake smiles in his future.
Hooray for War
In the morning, Nie Mingjue makes an angry speech to the 2 dozen cultivators who apparently make up the army. Extras are expensive, y'all.
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The senior cultivators are standing to the right or left of him, with the Lan brothers bracketing the Yunmeng sibs. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are both staking their claim to Wei Wuxian, while Lan Xichen is standing in the spot closest to Nie Mingjue; Nie Huaisang is on the opposite side with the Jins.
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All of the random cultivators yell a war chant in response to Nie Mingjue's speech, while the senior cultivators are like, we don't have to do that yelling stuff, thank goodness.
Nie Mingjue's war outfit includes metal (ish) epaulets on his shoulders and a totally not-kinky belt featuring multiple rings with nothing attached to them (yet) and an angry demon face right above his junk.
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Nie Mingjue says we're going to storm into Nightless city and I'm going to chop off Wen Ruohan's head! By which he means, I'm going to get captured and get my ass beat, and then my murder-babie ex-boyfriend who had this belt specially made for me is going to stab Wen Ruohan in the back while he's distracted. They do say no plan survives contact with the enemy.
Side note: Baxia makes a loud metallic "shnk" noise when NMJ takes it off his back during this speech, even though Baxia does not have a scabbard. You do you, Baxia.
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All the senior cultivators file out down the center while everyone else parts to let them pass. Then everybody does the Electric Slide.
Jiang Cheng tells Wei Wuxian they should go ahead of the main force to get some killing in early, but Wei Wuxian just pulls a face and looks down, staying with Lan Wangji. 
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Jiang Cheng is disappointed, and no doubt takes this as a sign of WWX choosing LWJ over him. But actually, WWX can't fight side-by-side with Jiang Cheng without showing his weakness.
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LWJ and WWX exchange one of their unspoken "let's go" eye touches and get ready to ride out together with the main force. 
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Lan Wangji is still super, super sad. Wei Wuxian is still fake. But something is starting to knit together between them, and once they can hit a battlefield together, it will get a lot stronger.
On A Horse With No Name
Everyone rides out on horses, which will presumably get eaten somewhere along the way, because they appear to travel on foot after this. While Wei Wuxian practices his horseback-flute-twirling, Lan Wangji asks why Wei Wuxian didn't go with the forward force to fight.
Wei Wuxian says that he has a case of the don'wannas, and Lan Wangji snarkily points out that he used to like fighting. Wei Wuxian reacts, just as he did at the end of their sword fight, with embarrassment, and doesn't answer.
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Lan Wangji, sweetie. You are really not helping. 
At this point, despite their ongoing fighting, Wangxian are clearly together again. Lan Wangji isn't riding with his brother; he's RIGHT next to Wei Wuxian, and will stay close to him through the rest of the campaign.
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Nie Huaisang hollers "Wei-Xiong" from the top of the battlements and tells him to take care. Wei-Xiong lifts his flute in acknowledgement while Nie Huaisang looks worried. He doesn't tell Nie Mingjue or Lan Wangji to take care, just Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian is his particular friend, more than Lan Wangji is, but he may also be concerned because he can tell that Wei Wuxian isn't well.
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Nie Huaisang hasn't yet developed the deep cynicism that he calls upon in his quest to avenge his brother, but he has always been a voracious collector of information, and he is keenly observant.
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Side note: what the fuck is going on with this sculpture? Kudos to the artist. This has beautiful forms, and is weird and disturbing. The main head is wearing a horned skull on its forehead, small ungulates that I hesitate to call “deer” chilling on its horns, and...snakes? biting its ears? 
Boring Wen Interlude
Wen Ruohan is waving his hands around. Sigh. This is one of the more boring villain performances ever, and it's not the actor’s fault. They could have given him a sidekick to yell at or something, so we could get more than just hand waving. I’ve given up screen capping any of this; there are more interesting things to look at. 
Battle Moves
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Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng and their forces have an extended fight scene with a bunch of puppet dudes and stuntmen in harnesses. 
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It's pretty fun to watch. (Fanvid with more over here)
The gist of the fighting scenes is that Wen Ruohan is getting stronger, and Klingons are hard to beat.
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Battle Planning
Finally we see a sidekick with Wen Ruohan, although he's blurry so it's hard to tell that he is totally Meng Yao.
The Sunshotters have set up a Battle Camp Playset. It's got chunks of gates and walls that don't connect to anything, like a Duplo set. It's just randomly open for most of the back area so that anyone can walk in. 
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They've got a cage of hilarious definitely-not-zombies set up, and the rest of the wounded cultivators are lying on the ground. 
The main battle trio go chill in Nie Mingjue's incredibly fancy tent. They talk it over and say it's impossible to kill unkillable enemies, "even when we have millions of troops." And by “millions” they mean “dozens.”  
Nie Mingjue decides the way to handle it is to kill the leader and everyone else will collapse, because he has watched vampire movies and the last season of Game of Thrones and that's how it works. Watching the last season of Game of Thrones is why he is so angry all the time  He says he's going to sneak into Nightless City and assassinate Wen Ruohan.
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Okay, first of all, Nie Mingjue can sneak? I don't believe it.  Second of all, if that was possible, why didn't he do it as soon as Wen Ruohan attacked his clan?
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Nie Mingjue wants to take the biggest risk because he's the commander in chief, which is not how commanding is supposed to work, but okay.
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He says if he dies, Zewu Jun will take over. Jiang Cheng starts to protest but Zewu Jun appears as if conjured, and shows them a map that will...dear GOD his hands are beautiful.
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It's a helpful map, painted in multiple colors with careful writing on it, so if anyone were to show it to Nie Huaisang he would probably go "oh cool Meng Yao painted that" because anyone who could paint that well probably spent a fair amount of time at it on a regular basis. But, Nie Huaisang isn't here so, nope.
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It’s always nice to see Jiang Cheng smile.
Wei Wuxian and Lan Waniji examine some of the puppets to see what's up. It's transmitted by touch, and Lan Wangji says that curing one dude takes three months of spiritual power. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
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Writing Prompt: Missing scene! How did they get from the fight in the courtyard to the talk on the roof? 
Soundtrack: 1. Shine on You Crazy Diamond, by Pink Floyd 2. Electric Boogie, by Marcia Griffiths
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claybrownie7566 · 3 years
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Hidden Skies
I was thinking about some fears Sky might have, and I remembered my playthrough of Skyward Sword and how stressful the underground bits were. You had to sneak around and try not to get killed by big scary centipedes, and it's a crawl space, which is terrifying. So anyways I hope you enjoy!
(TW: panic, tight spaces, darkness)
Sky can't go underground, not anymore. When the group is forced into a catacomb of caves, they come to realize that Sky has kept some of the more fearsome pieces of his adventure to himself.
Earth.
It was still so foreign to Sky. The endless expanse of dirt and rock left him speechless. He remembered the first time he laid eyes on it. Trees, hills, ponds and fields as far as the eye could see. He loved it. He poured over the colors and textures around him, his lips unable to conjure words to describe it's beauty.
This was to be their home. This was where it was all going to change.
His quest was difficult to say the least. Constantly, heavy tasks were placed before him, and he accepted and completed them without complaint. Always pushing ahead in hopes of reuniting with Zelda.
And then one day something changed. He remembered it clearly. How the digging claws felt awkward, unnatural and heavy in his hands...
But he had dug none the less. It was the next step in his journey, and he didn't think much of it.
It was so cold.
So dark.
Nightmares lurked in that darkness. Centipedes with explosive ends and cutting, biting, shredding mandibles and beady black eyes.
And then he was trapped. The way in and out blocked and sealed until he had conquered the monstrosities.
He had been buried alive. The suffocating weight and chill of the underground never left him, and he refused to go anywhere he couldn't see the sky or feel the air.
His new adventure proved, so far, to be one of open lands and roaming freely across them. The monster attacks were never welcome, nor the shadow they were chasing, but Sky would be fine as long as they stayed on the surface.
So, he never complained. He never felt the need to. There was no reason for that fear to return.
And then they reached Hyrule's goddess forsaken kingdom, and every courageous painting Sky had conjured up for himself dissolved into pure ashen terror.
Rain poured from the sky, cold and wet and gray. Twilight held his lantern aloft as they all looked for shelter.
"Rule? Are you sure there's somewhere nearby? We've been walking for almost an hour" the rancher asked.
Hyrule's eyes were focused on a shape in the distance, his arm raises to shield his eyes from the pelting rain.
"Up ahead" he said with a nod, "there are some caves and a path through the mountain."
Sky swallowed down his mild panic.
It's ok. It's just a cave. It'll be just fine.
The closer they got to the mountain, the worse it looked. The mass of rock and dirt ahead was more of a hill than a mountain, especially compared to Wild's ranges. Lightning flashed overhead and thunder made the ground tremble beneath their boots.
The mouth of the cave was a sight for sore eyes. At least, that's what everyone else saw. Twilight forged ahead, leading their tired troop out of the cold.
This isn't so bad, Sky thought as he followed the warm glow of the lantern inside. This is just another shelter. Nothing at all to be-
"We could make it through the mountain by nightfall if we want somewhere better to stay tonight" Hyrule said.
Time thought for a moment, and Sky prayed to the goddess he wouldn't say yes.
"How far is it to the other side?"
Hyrule tilted his head, tracing a finger in the air like he was drawing a map in it.
"it's about a two hour walk" he said finally.
There was a splash as Legend emptied the water from his boots, "are there monsters along the way?"
"There shouldn't be" Hyrule replied, "I go through here a lot, and I've never seen more than a stray bokoblin or two. It is a bit of a sketchy path though. The tunnels don't go straight through, they're twisty. I'd have to remember the way."
"Are you confident you could do that?" Warriors asked.
"Course I can! What do you take me for?" the traveler replied, crossing his arms.
Wild snorted.
"It's settled then. Let's get a move on" Four said, "I want to be somewhere that isn't here."
Busy chatter filled the small cave opening, and Sky felt his heart stop. Dread rose up from his toes, filling his entire body and traveling up to the top of his head. He felt sick looking at the dark tunnel in front of him.
And he was back in those crawl spaces all over again.
Hot, blinding flashes burned his eyes, the intense darkness that once filled his vision was painfully blasted away. Serrated mandibles sliced and bit at his flesh as he crawled away desperately searching for a way out.
Sky tried to keep his breaths shallow, his lungs drawing in the stale air, suffocating him further.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and his eyes snapped up, locking with Twilight's.
"Sky? You've been awfully quiet and you just got really pale. We are about to head into the tunnels, are you alright?"
The rancher's voice was kind and full of thought, like he was deciding how to proceed with the conversation.
Sky shook his head, his voice small.
"I-I can't go in there....I can't."
The others began walking ahead, leaving Sky and Twilight in the pale lantern light.
"it'll be ok. I've got plenty of lantern oil, and it's not too long of a walk through. Come on, let's walk together." Twilight smiled, and Sky felt the panic in his bones lift ever so slightly. With one last deep breath, he followed his friend into the darkness.
**************
They had been walking for over an hour. Sky stayed close to Twilight and his lantern, trying not to let the others see his heart fail him.
There was quiet chatter across the group. Nothing special, just light easy-coming conversation. An occasional detour from Hyrule allowed them all to stop and rest while he checked various paths and dead ends.
Sky didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. They should nearly be to the other side shouldn't they? Were they lost?
Sky's thoughts were cut short as rapid footsteps neared. Hyrule bolted around the corner out of nowhere, slamming directly into Twilight.
Sky heard glass shatter, then was blind.
The darkness was so intense he thought he would suffocate right then and there. All the panic and terror he had been repressing broke free and he gasped.
His eyes widened and he began to stumble toward the wall of the tunnel, feeling it and running his hands over it, searching for an invisible door to the outside.
His breaths came in ragged gasps, as he dug his fingers into the dirt, scratching at the surface trying in vain to escape.
"No" he muttered, "no no NO! NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN!"
There were worried voices near him, but he couldn't hear them. He banged his fists against the dirt until they were raw, and when he couldn't get through he started to run.
More voices called to him in the dark, but he didn't care. He was going to die. His eyes, still unadjusted to the fresh darkness burned with hot, terrified tears.
He ran, tripping blindly across the tunnel, his heart screaming for a way out, any way it could find. When his search proved to be in vain, Sky fell to his knees. He clamped a hand over his mouth to constrict his airflow. Conserving oxygen was the only thing that mattered now.
The sky...the light...I can't find it.
Small, rough hands gripped his wrists, and Sky cried out, nearly falling backwards.
"Sky! Sky it's me!" Wind spoke with firmness, but gentleness also, beckoning Sky to focus on him.
Another pair of hands wrapped around him from behind. Soft fur brushed the back of Sky's neck.
The sailor kept his hold on the Sky's wrists, and continued to speak.
"Sky, the lantern was dropped. That's all. You're safe. You're safe and we've got you."
He nearly stopped breathing entirely. There were nine of them trapped in here. There wouldn't be enough air. They would all suffocate. His body shook violently, his breaths barely entering his lungs.
Wind's young, familiar voice spoke again, jarring Sky back to reality.
"Hey, take a deep breath and listen to me."
"Can't" Sky breathed, "no air....suffocate....suffocate."
The arms around his loosed ever so slightly, allowing his chest to rise and fall more easily. It took every ounce of control Sky had to keep his breaths shallow.
"Sky, there is plenty of air. We are in a tunnel, and there is a big opening behind us, and one not too far ahead. Do you feel the air?"
Sky focused on the air around him, a light current swept across his cheek. Relieved beyond belief, he filled his lungs, and sank into the arms around him.
"I know it's dark, but we have other lanterns. It'll be light, and then we will get out of here okay?" Wind kept his voice steady, running his thumbs across the inside of Sky's wrists reassuringly.
Twilight's arms tightened around him, and began lifting him to his feet. He stood, though his body protested. Once on his feet he tried to catch his breath. He took it slow, listening to Wind and taking in huge lungfulls of air at a time.
Twilight released his hold on their friend, keeping a hand supportively on his shoulder.
A small scraping sound came from their left, followed by the growing light of a new lantern. Sky took in the sights around him, relieved to be able to see again. Eight compassionate faces lit up around him.
Sky felt heat rise to his cheeks. He didn't like showing fear, even in a group full of people just like him.
"Sky?"
The hero turned, meeting Hyrule's kind eyes.
"I'm sorry I broke the lantern. I was just trying to hurry. The way out isn't much farther, we can be out soon if we hurry."
Sky nodded, rubbing his tired eyes.
There was a groan behind him and everyone turned.
"Hylia above I hate the underground. I think I speak for everyone on that. It's always the worst, let's get out of here" Legend said.
Everyone nodded in agreement, and Sky could feel his fear dissipate instantly. He was with his friends, and they were going to get out together.
Hyrule led the way, and everyone walked with purpose, trying to leave the tunnels behind them as fast as possible.
Wind slipped his hand into Sky's in the dull light, leaving the latter feeling safe and comfortable in a place he never thought he could be.
When the end finally came, the heroes sprinted out the other side. The sky was on fire with the glowing sun after a storm. Sky smiled as Time and Four lifted their faces to the sky, taking in big fresh breaths of clean Spring air. The others did the same, basking in the freedom of the open World.
Wind leaned against Sky's side. The little sailor looked much more grown up to him in that moment.
"I feel the same way about underground you know" Wind whispered, "I've never been trapped there, but I need somewhere open. Somewhere I can see the sky and feel the wind."
Sky's heart burst, and he smiled fondly at his companion. He wrapped and arm across Wind's shoulders and pulled him into a side hug.
"Thank you for lending me your bravery back there. And for the record, I don't think we are the only ones that love being free."
Wind laughed as they watched Warriors and Wild sprawl out on the grass.
"No we are not."
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I saw @petrichormeraki’s Poultry Man chronicles and have been low-key obsessed. So I wrote a thing! It’s based off an art submission they got, which you can find here
TW: MENTIONS OF BLOOD, INJURIES AND EXTREME GUILT
Enjoy!
Doctor Cyber grinned beneath his helmet, finally, he had Poultry Man. The weapon had worked, knocking that bird out of the sky, and sending him careening into the street below. He stood above the defeated ‘hero’, and picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder, and taking off into the sky, much to the surrounding crowd’s horror.
The creeper hybrid flew back to his base, Poultry Man not stirring even once. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to hit him with the ray while he was so high up, he didn’t want Poultry Man to get more injured than necessary, he just wanted him off the streets, to keep his friends and family safe from the feathered menace.
“Bring Poultry Man to the lab,” came Scar’s voice over the comm. “I’ve got a containment cell ready for him.”
Doc grunted in acknowledgement, and altered his flight path towards the side of the entrance closest to the lab.
“Prep the med-kit,” Doc said as he landed, when Poultry Man still hadn’t stirred. “I think the crash landing hurt him more than we anticipated.”
“Alright,” Scar replied, a tinge of worry tracing through his voice.
~~~
By the time Doc had reached the lab, Scar had both a containment cell, and a medical bed ready for Poultry Man. Gently, Doc laid the bird-man on the bed, and Scar quickly began to examine his limbs, checking the extent of the damage. Scar furrowed his eyebrows in worry when the hero continued to remain still, especially when he had to pop his shoulder back into its socket.
“This is worse than we thought.” He said to himself. “I’ve never heard anyone, not even an unconscious person, who didn’t at the very least flinch when they get a bone popped back into place.”
Scar quickly grabbed one of the overhanging machines, and began to scan Poultry Man. His gasped sharply as the scan completed, eyes wide with shock and fear.
Doc, now without his helmet and battle suit noticed as he walked over to Scar. “What’s wrong, Scar?” He looked down at the so-called ‘hero’, and back to his friend. “I know I roughed him up a bit, but he’s gotten up from worse.”
Scar, shaking slightly, merely pushed the tablet displaying the scan over to him. “No, he hasn’t.” Scar murmured, almost too soft to hear.
Doc was confused, what did Scar mean by that? And skeptically took the tablet. He too, let out a noise of horror as he realized what it read.
A full body x-ray was displayed on the screen, almost every bone highlighted with at least a break, or multiple cracks. Every rib was cracked in multiple places, at least three were broken, his left arm had shattered, a severe concussion, at least three dislocated joints. No wonder the hero hadn’t stirred. His body shut down to prevent causing further damage, and with this many broken bones? The man was lucky to be alive.
Doc finally managed to tear his eyes away from the screen, and met Scar’s gaze as he bandaged the multiple large gashes across Poultry Man’s body. “His bones are hollow.” He said solemnly. “He’s lucky to be alive.”
The realization hit Doc like a truck. In his quest to protect his friends and family, he’d almost killed someone. His legs felt like jello, but the creeper hybrid forced himself to take deep, shaky breaths and remain calm. He hadn’t killed Poultry Man. He would recover. And Doc had finally taken the menace off the streets.
Reassuring himself, Doc manages to stand up straight once more. “Do you need anything else while you’re fixing him up?” He asks Scar, who has moved on from bandages to setting the broken bones as best he can, and putting them into casts.
“I think I’m good,” Scar responds, finishing up the final cast. “The only thing left would be… the mask.” He says hesitantly. “He probably needs bandages on his head, but I wanted to wait for you to recover before I took it off.” The scarred man considers his next words for a moment. “This should be something we do together.”
Doc nods in acknowledgment, and the two move to the bird-hero’s head. Scar gently lifts his head off the pillow, and Doc, as gently as he can’t, pulls off the chicken-like headpiece. This is what they’d been waiting to do since they started this mission to end Poultry Man’s reign, something they’d been dreaming of for so long. They thought that they’d be ready for whoever was under that mask.
They weren’t.
Twin cries of shock echoed through Area 77, as Scar and Doc stared at the true face of Poultry Man. Only it wasn’t- it couldn’t be him! That would mean that they’d been hunting their friend for months, it would mean that they almost killed someone they considered family multiple times; and that he was now unconscious- potentially in a coma- because of them.
It didn’t matter that the hero’s face was battered, that it was bruised, bloody, and swollen. It was unmistakable. Poultry Man was Grian.
Grian was Poultry Man.
And Doc had nearly killed him.
Both men were in shock, just short of outright refusing to believe it. But the proof was right there, laying in front of them. Doc collapsed to the floor, sobs beginning to rack this body. And Scar was no better, blindly going through the motions of cleaning Poul- no, Grian’s wounds, hoping that by giving hands something to do, he could keep his mind off of their discovery.
It didn’t work.
Both men kept going through every interaction with Grian and Poultry Man that they could remember, the missing pieces falling into place. Grian, always sore, or just not present any time after Poultry Man had a fight, how the two were never in the same place at the same time, Grian would leave, and Poultry Man would show up. The excuses, the constant tardiness Grian demonstrated after Poultry Man showed up? It all finally made sense.
When Scar finished bandaging, he went and sat at a table, silent tears running down his face as he processed everything. Doc had started pacing across the room, guilt crawling up his throat and threatening to choke him. He looked at Grian again, the shallow breaths and stillness so unfitting on their friend.
“Scar,” Doc asked as he looked. Scar picked up his head to see Doc’s eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Are we the bad guys?”
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Can you write about the elves reacting to their hero leaving for a quest one day and completely vanishing? Nobody knows what happened to them, nobody even knows if they're still alive or not. How would the elves cope with that?
This is remarkably creative, yet depressive. I like it anon. I give to you...
°~°~°~°~°~°
"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚓𝚘𝚢."
Sotha Sil will feel conflicted. Was it something he had done? Had they made the guise of going on a trip to get away from him? Was he suffocating them? Was he too neglectful? Similar thoughts would swim around Sil's head frequently as he comes to terms as time ticks by that they really arent coming back. They're never coming home. His chest lurches uncomfortable and for once he feels nauseous. He should have seen it coming, nothing lasts forever. He'll continue on, just like he needs too, but he'd never recover from this deep down in his...heart. Yeah. Maybe it will tick slower...still, he's here. The only direction to go in times of strife is...forward. Keep going forward.
Vivec can feel the world become more black and white, things are more duller. Had they gone to Akavir like they had talked about so often? Had they grown tired of him? Did he bother them that much? When his Ordinators keep coming back with no news on where they could possibly be, the more the poets stomach sinks. It's as if they disappeared. The adventurous part of Vehk's mind entertained the idea that they had found someplace. Someplace better, far far away from here. In the end, he stays vigilant, eyes centered on the door waiting for them to return. Weeks, months, years tick by and...nothing. Gone. As if they had become one with the wind amidst they came...Eventually, he follows suit, treasuring the last few inhales of crisp night air before he finds his own better place.
Almalexia tough as she may seem finds solace in their company. It wasn't...forced. It was...loving, familiar, domestic...most of all it felt like....she struggles to find the right word for a few moments. Home. She decides, feeling her throat tighten. Is this what people really felt when they were left behind? Had they meant too? She knew she should feel at least a shred of anger yet...nothing. A cruel numbness settles over her being and her heart feels cold. She had hoped they would stay with her, she wanted to see them to the end. Every grey hair, every wrinkle that would settle into their face as the years passed. She feels a bitter smile overtake her face, she supposes this is what she deserves right? She'll cope, cope to the bitter end. This wouldn't fill the hole that was left from them leaving, the piece of her that they took somewhere never to return. For once, she weeps her goodbye.
Voryn Dagoth feels his heart twinge painfully in his chest. Why had they gone? Where did they go where he couldn't follow? Why was it that whenever he had something so good, so happy, so innocent, the one thing that gave him a sense of purpose, the world snuffed it out? Voryn swallows thickly, frowning deeply. If he had known what was so important, he would have come with them. Told everyone else to kick ash...the Advisors, the Dwemer, every one.
Voryn wouldn't cry. Not because he didn't care, but because he knew that his tears would be wasted for what little relief came from them. Only to realize they still weren't here with him. Life is monotonous, but he keeps on, guiding Nerevar with what little hope he has anymore. Voryn Dagoth's fault was that he remained loyal.
Mannimarco feels angry, betrayed. Yet can't deny the way his cold black heart seemingly shatters slightly more in his chest. His resolve breaking leaving his eyes uncharacteristically lost and empty. He curses himself for getting attached but he loves them. So deeply, unconditionally. He would have raised Oblivion with the person who sent them on that quest had they ever disclosed who it was before they wandered away. They would never just leave him alone right? What point was to saving him if they were going to make him feel so much, happiness, anger, love beyond his imagination.
He carries on, doing what he wanted to do before his eyes laid on the Vestige. That small tingling hope in his chest remaining that they'd come running from the horizon. He's bitter, meaner, harsher on people. He'd never tell them it was because people like them took away someone he cared about most.
Neloth tries to ignore the numbness settling in. That eerie white noise ringing in his ears that had since become so accustomed to their voice. He reminded himself plenty of times that they were allowed to leave, decide their own path. Go where they please, gods above know they deserved it. He squeezes his eyes shut trying to curb the incessant lurching of his stomach. Is this what heartbreak felt like? He thought he'd be fine, with them being gone. He just wished they had told him where. It's not like he can send people after them, or send out a search. He was just a wizard. And that for once wasn't enough for him. He'll function just as much as he did before, but with less vigor and excitement. And he'll carry on though the feeling remains in his chest reminding him that he's had a piece of him taken that he'd never get back.
Divayth Fyr cool facade slips away as he loses all semblances of an appetite. Was all that really just something - no, he stops himself before he can finish the cruel notion. They wouldn't. They couldn't have. He is - or was in love with them. And as far as he was concerned they returned those feelings in full. They weren't incapable, not weak, most certainly not a novice at magic either. They wouldn't get themselves killed right? What was so worth the secrecy that it was possibly worth dying for? What was so difficult that they couldn't ask him for help? He'll spend some of his time pondering on this, he doesn't smile much anymore, he tries, but he can't. He absorbs himself into research to escape the grim realization.
Teldryn Sero doesn't cry. He refuses too. He wants to scream, throw things. Get violent. Anything to stop the rolling of his stomach, the pounding of his heart against his ribcage. He never had a breakdown before, is this what this was?
He clenches his teeth. He failed at the one job he was supposed to do. Follow them no matter where they went. Instead they slipped out during the night and he hasn't heard a thing of them. Weeks turn into months and that turns quickly into years. His hero, his lover, his other half. Gone. Like they had never even been there in the first place. Had it all been a dream that his lonely mind conjured up? Teldryn can try to push the feelings away, but he lets it gnaw at him till...one day the spellsword leaves. And no one knows where he ended up.
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