#To what I have no idea but that slash is killing me in saving documents | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anika-ann · 3 years

Text

The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - Pt.1

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & Part 3), Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock & reader

Word count (ch1): 2400

Summary: After the fiasco in Nigeria, the world is fed up with dealing with the Avengers’ mess. The Sokovia Accords are invented. It’s understandable that the team is divided.

But Steve would never expect that The Accords would wedge a split between the two of you as well. And he sure as hell wouldn’t expect your disagreement not to end there.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, talk about what happened in Lagos during CA:CW, langauge, angst? (I mean, check out the title)

A/N: So, this mini-series is a part of the Melting Hearts ‘verse and follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing and kinda expecting the readers to knwo what’s up ;) obviously some things will be slightly altered.

Will be posted in double chapters (1st &2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1)

────── ·❆· ──────

1. (Cause & Consequence)

“Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil. Not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent… is no victory at all.”

Steve shut the TV down, placing the remote control on the table. His fingers went to massage the bridge of his nose.

It was everywhere – a month after the fiasco in Lagos, they were still talking about it in the news. This time it was the king of Wakanda speaking, questioning the activities of the Avengers team.

And during the past weeks, he had barely been the only one.

Steve was well-aware of their mistakes – of his mistake. The way he had lost it with Rumlow was unforgivable, especially with so many lives lost. Wanda might have been the one to send the exploding man into the building full of civilians, but Steve was watching the source of the tragedy every goddamn day in the mirror.

He had failed to deal with the HYDRA mercenary. Wanda had saved Steve’s life when she removed the burning man out of his reach, accidently blowing up a building. You had tried your best to put out the fire in the building with your powers, but the damage had already been done.

It had been a collective error. But Steve knew that if they hadn’t been in Nigeria in the first place, many more people would die. And it was what he was trying to hold onto, some days handling it better than others.

If the public thought they didn’t feel remorse at what had happened, they were very, oh so very wrong.

He winced when the voice of the reporter he had just shut down evaded his ears again, and frowned.

He knew it couldn’t be you – you weren’t home, which was just another thing to make him feel like crap. You were spending a lot of time away lately – Steve couldn’t help but wondering if it was his fault too, if he had driven you away with his dark thoughts.

And then there were moments when he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t simply you not being able to look at him, not seeing him in the same light as you had used to when you had said yes to his proposal.

Were you gone because you were judging him for freezing at Bucky’s name? For not handling the situation? He couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed. Loving someone… it shouldn’t be about expecting something back, but… after all the support he gave you whenever you were struggling? He thought you would be there for him.

But maybe it was just too much for you, dealing with yourself and comforting him at the same time – it would only confirm his theory about you feeling guilty for some of the victims.

However… why wouldn’t you try to deal with your own feelings with Steve? He was hundred percent sure you thought you could have done more, be there sooner, hell, stop the explosion yourself. He knew you felt like it was your failure as much as his and Wanda’s – or at least he believed so.

But why were you seeking shelter somewhere else? He was your fiancé – a person you had agreed to spend the rest of your life with – so why weren’t you with him in a time like this? Your relationship had been very intimate from the very beginning after all, only blossoming into more with time.

So why had you gone to see another man again? He couldn’t help the nagging pang of betrayal and jealousy. You always said you needed to see Matt Murdock. How could it not get into his very core and wound him there? Especially when after those meetings with Matt, you always seemed restless, jumping at the slightest of sounds, often escaping to the gym, claiming you needed few more moments alone.

“I’m sorry,” you would always say, a regretful smile on your lips, your gaze avoiding his. “I just… I guess I just need to hit something and I don’t want you to see me like that.”

And then you would hug him, kiss his cheek gently, sometimes pressing your lips to his for a split second and you’d be gone. Truth to your words, you would always come back exhausted, but somewhat calmer and offering affection with more urgency than usual to make up for the lost time.

Steve had no idea what to think about that or how to approach the matter.

What he knew he could do, however, was to walk into Wanda’s room and turn off her goddamn TV, because he was sure the voice was coming from there – no one had watched the news with more intensity than her, always coming after any new bits about the incident in Lagos so she could torture herself.

That girl was way too much like you.

“It’s my fault,” she stated when she acknowledged his presence. It was hard not to, since he had turned off the broadcast.

“That’s not true.”

“Turn the TV back on. They’re being very specific.”

“Well, what they say on TV is a load of— stupid things. We both know that I should have handled the situation way before you had to intervene. People died. And unlike what they say on the news – that’s on me,” he said, heavily seating himself next to her on her bed.

She gave him a sorrowful smile. “Well. I guess it’s on both of us.”

And not on the three of us, Steve’s mind supplied helpfully in an instant and he sighed at the intrusive voice in the back of his head.

“She’s out again. I’m sorry. She’s taking it pretty hard, especially considering it wasn’t her fault at all,” Wanda offered gently and Steve mentally cursed at the mind-reader slash empath slash million other things. “She’s afraid too. She worries for you, because of the way the mission affected you. But she’s not blaming you.”

Steve eyed her, meeting her honest gaze full of compassion.

“Well, she could say that by herself, but she won’t. Instead…”

“You know… she was very fast at learning how to build a wall in her head to shield her thoughts from me. I can’t read her mind… but I can always tell there’s a lot on it when she comes back,” the Sokovian informed him and Steve stiffened.

Yeah, that was exactly the thing he did not want to hear.

“The thing is… she’s terrible at hiding her emotions. I… I’m not gonna pretend I don’t know what crosses your mind from time to time, I don’t need to read thoughts for that, or emotions. But I can tell you that she only has feelings for you, Steve. Her heart – it’s always with you. She’s carrying it on her sleeve, but it’s yours. You got yourself a good woman, Captain. A troubled one, sure,” she chuckled softly, apparently pleased she felt Steve’s relief. And relieved he was; you weren’t cheating on him. You weren’t thinking about cheating on him. You still loved him. You didn’t blame him. It was as if he could breathe again, indescribable weight falling off him. “But a loyal one and good one.”

Steve covered her hand with his, determined to sooth her as well. “Well. I knew from the beginning that you two were too much alike.”

“Thank you, Steve,” she smiled at him softly and Steve wished he wasn’t imagining the slightest relief in her eyes as well.

“No, Wanda. Thank you.”

────── ·❆· ──────

2. (Empty Promises)

The Sokovia Accords. A miraculous solution to the problem of the uncontrollable bunch of (mostly) superhumans that hold no responsibility for their action.

Go. To. Hell.

Steve wanted to burn the hundreds-pages document to ashes. It was nonsense. The document just shifted the blame to someone else and wanted to put all of them in check; in a way Steve didn’t like at all.

As long as he remembered, all he wanted was to do good – to serve his country, sure, but mainly to serve the people in it, serve a good purpose. And this regulation went straight against it. Hell, it went against the promise he had once made to the man who gave him the power to fight for a good cause, because he had thought Steve could value it. And he did. He heard Doctor Erskine’s voice as clearly as if he was sitting on the opposite bed at the Camp Lehigh, the night before the procedure.

‘Promise me, that you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier – but a good man.’

Being a perfect soldier meant obeying orders and not thinking twice it they meant doing the right thing or not. Being a good man meant standing for what he believed was good with his whole heart.

Signing this peace of— paper would go against everything he believed in.

“We’re not perfect, but the safest hands are still our own,” Steve finished the argumentation and that said it all.

He looked up at Tony with intense glare, his blue eyes gleaming with severity. The air felt too heavy to breathe, the silence itself weighting a ton.

It was your timid voice that cut it in the end and what you said made Steve’s heart ache.

“That’s not something all of us can say about themselves, Steve.”

His attention shifted to you, his lips parting at the well-known expression on your face. His shoulders slumped with a sigh.

Apparently, he had been right about Nigeria – you did feel guilty. And the beginning of your new life with powers had branded you forever as well; this was just another prove of that. A scar for life – the way you saw yourself after killing the scientists on accident, it was affecting you every goddamn minute of your existence and some were just more difficult than others.

“No matter the mistakes we have made, the lives lost on our watch – it doesn’t outweigh the good we’re doing,” he opposed you gently before turning back to Tony to make a point. “The good we might not be able to do if we sign.”

The billionaire huffed. “If we don’t do this now, it will be done to us later. That’s a fact. And it won’t be pretty.”

“You say they’ll come for me,” Wanda stated with scary steadiness to her voice and all eyes snapped to her.

“We would protect you.”

For some reason, Steve’s gut twisted at Vision’s measured voice. A discussion started all over again and Steve was slowly losing the grasp on who was on which side. He glanced your direction as you were observing the fighting team quietly, a troubled expression on your face – the very same he had seen all too often, every time you had come back to the compound.

With sudden urge to comfort you, he rose to his feet and made his way to you. It was when his phone vibrated in his pocket, announcing the worst possible news.

Peggy Carter had just died.

“I gotta go.”

────── ·❆· ──────

You had gone to London with him, together with Sam. It was… difficult. Soul-crashing. Steve knew that this day would come, possibly very soon, but it hit him like a train, the blow knocking him to the ground.

The blows just kept coming and Steve would love to make a cheeky comment about him being able to do that all day, but this beating was hitting him on places that really, really hurt and he couldn’t bear it. He cried when he carried the casket. He didn’t have the capacity to feel ashamed for it.

God knew you had been there for him as a silent support the whole time; even when he was shamelessly staring at the woman he knew as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and she introduced herself as Sharon Carter. Peggy’s niece.

To be fair, it wasn’t just the revelation of her relation to Peggy or her appearance – it was her, quoting an amazingly strong and inspirational woman, who had, just like Steve, always only wanted to do the right thing. It moved him in a way he wouldn’t be able to put into words if anyone asked him to do so.

You had given him a moment alone only when he had asked for it – you had left the church with everyone else.

It surprised him when he heard the door opening again after what could be a minute; but it wasn’t you. It was Natasha. Bringing up the issue of The Sokovia Accords that Steve had backburned without even realizing it.

His opinion hadn’t changed and he refused to leave to Vienna with Natasha. It was when you replaced her in the otherwise empty church, approaching him slowly and timidly, when he realized that you were about to that though.

“You’re coming with her,” he stated, unable to keep the bitterness off his tone.

Just another punch into his solar plexus. Sure. He could do this all day.

Your smaller hand caught his, for once warmer than his own despite the cold air of the church. Your eyes were on his too, searching in his face. He didn’t have the strength to hide anything from you now.

“Unless you want me to… no, not now. I don’t need to sign publicly – I’m a long way from Black Widow’s popularity and fame.”

“You know that’s not true,” he opposed wryly, too weak to snatch your hand away.

It felt too heavy against his, almost foreign; he hadn’t known if you had made up your mind and decided to sign, not until that moment, not for sure. Now he did. Yet, there was a comfort he was seeking in your touch, because it was something that always helped to calm him down, ground him. He was vainly chasing after the feeling now.

Sensing his struggle, you hesitantly brought your hand up to cup his cheek; on instinct more than anything else, he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. Your thumb skimmed over his skin, affectionate, giving.

“And you know I don’t need an audience,” you whispered. “I… I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Steve. I want to be here for you, if you want as well. Work can wait.”

Your words, your touch, your affection – it should all bring him peace, but it just wasn’t coming. His first true love had left this world, left him, and now it felt like you were leaving him too – leaving him behind and betraying an oath you had premised when you let him slip an engagement ring on your finger.

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 2 (the third and the fourth time)

────── ·❆· ──────

Thank you for reading!

I decided to post it here on tumblr in double-chapters, because they would be reatively short otherwise... but posting it as one monster chapter would be a bit much... I think.

Have a good start of your week!

91 notes · View notes

mariahthelioness29 · 4 years

Text

Remember the time

Pairing: SamBucky! X Black! reader

WC: 7.3K (EYE... idk why they keep getting longer)

A look into y/n’s relationship with Sam and Bucky years after Send the Addy.

Send the Addy was part of @blackmissfrizzle and her Frizzle’s 2K Follower Celebration & Bad Bitch Challenge. I had the song Send the Addy by Flo Milli.

Warning: Angst, fight, violence, minor character deaths, SMUT, light D/s dynamics, threesome, sir and daddy naming, shower sex, rough sex, rimming, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, masturbation (male), fingering, cum eating.

@sambuckyslayallday @blackmissfrizzle @xbuchananbarnes @avintagekiss24 @helahades @sapphirescrolls @rasberrylemon @saltball @honestlyfrance @black-mcu-imagines @blacklavenderjade @saintsebastian-stan @deansblackbeauty @marvelmaree @honeychicanawrites @siancore

“y/n,what's your status”, Bucky asks in his coms.

You heard Bucky’s call but you decided to ignore it.

“Hang on”, you gruffed him through the coms.

You have to save the Ihumann all in chains by the Kree.

You are appalled that slavery is a reality, still.

Only this time is among aliens.

You are gathering information on the Kree and Skrull cold war for Sam and Danvers.

You jumped down from a level to the other and appeared in front of the Kree soldiers.

“ Hey, sailors”, You salute the Kree soldiers before frying them with energy coming out of you. They drop calcined.

The poor Ihumann are shaking like leaves. One of them grabbed a kid for dear life.

You assume the kid is theirs.

“ I am here to help”, you signed to them in their language.

They nod like bobble heads, still terrified.

“Here”, you signed

You hand them some guns and retractable Wakandan spears.

“ Walk behind me and when I say attack, you do as I say”. You signed to them.

“You walked fast with them and you signaled them to hide.

Some hide behind columns with you and the others blend in with the wall.

Everything was going great, according to plan.

Until other Kree Soldiers noticed you and the Ihumann.

You make them rush to the spacejet.

You press a button to open the spacejet from behind

You gave them all the space suits buttons you had including your own and only a young Ihumann stayed with you.

“ I’ll fight with you”, he signals.

Hissing and groans in pains, screams in agony , the Ihumman slashed through the Kree Soldiers.

You electro shock them until one the Kree soldier you did not see, impaled the Ihumman from his back.

You hear a strangled scream, that is deafening.

You all wince and turn around. You see blue blood pouring, hands over their mouth, eyes wide in shock and a spear through him. They drop to their knees and they look at you.

“NOOOOOOOOOO !!!!!”, you screamed.

Being distraught, the Kree soldiers took advantage and put a stabilizer on you.

A silent scream escapes your throat, the stabilizer bites in your skin, rendering you powerless.

The Kree soldiers put you in chains and make you walk with them.

You are going to another section of the massive compound floating along the sky.

"Huh? , a Terran, Quu, told me they are exquisite, I will find out with this one". He tugs at your chain.

" Save a spot for me, I am trying to find out too". The other soldier says.

You feel a presence.

You see a black shadow.

You hear shots and you flinch. You hear the men trapping you, dropped like a potato sack.

You are relieved to see Bucky but suddenly you are not.

You realize why the man is feared and why the name Winter Soldier exists.

If looks can kill, you would’ve been 10 feet underground.

“ Buck, I can explain”. You say all breathy. He walks to you. He gets you out the chains. He barely acknowledges you, hands you a glass like chip, takes you by the forearm, puts the space suit button on you and taps on it. You are surrounded by the space suit.

Through nooks and crannies, you reach the underground, shooting some soldiers down the way. You manage to escape, through a narrow exit near the underground motors of the compound.

You float to the spaceship and enter it. You click on the button and the space suits disappear.

He makes you sit and he takes the aid kit, injecting a little local anesthetic.

He cuts around the stabilizer and then takes it out with some tweezers. It is hard work cause the stabilizer has some hooks in it.

He takes the bloody stabilizer out of your neck, dropping, stomping it on the floor. He puts some nanobites to close the injury and some alcohol.

You hiss at the feeling of the alcohol and the nanobites.

Bucky’s jaw is square with anger.

He looks at you with the corner of his eyes.

He sees the Ihummann in the spacejet.

“ Translate for me, you are safe and welcome” ,he orders you in a robotic tone.

You sign what he says. They smile at you and they all say thank you to you.

Relieve is all over their faces. Some of them sigh, others with tears of happiness.

“ They say thank you”, you whisper to him.

He smiles at them but you know it is a smile that does not reach his eyes.

He bows to them with his fist on his chest.

A sign of “your welcome”, a reverence you taught him.

They all do the same to him back.

He goes to the cockpit of the spaceship and you beside him.

“ Bucky”, you try to talk to him.

“ Not now, y/n”, he gruffs.

You know, you are for one hell of a talk with him and Sam, when you’re back on Earth.

It took you three weeks to get back on Earth.

It was the route where Kree least looked for you.

Sam and Danvers are aware of what you did, but they cannot help with resources for now.

You stop in several planets, from negotiating some of your arsenal, curing aliens, selling some Earth trinkets, cage fighting, even some stripping. you and Bucky did on Traia to have food, oxygen, water, special water for the Ihumman and a place to rest. You were a success on Traia, they never saw Terrans before. So much, you and Bucky needed to fight the bar patron to let you out.

Bucky only said good night and talked to you the necessary.

You slept with your backs against each other.

He is still mad at you.

You arrived at the headquarters.

Bucky's hair was to his ears. His beard was full.

Your hair looks tired and ran through. You all stink.

The Ihumann stayed in the jet. They need to stay since Earth’s oxygen is nauseating to them, but you promised them you will find a way they can have a shower too since Earth's water makes them ill. They have to talk in signs all the time cause their voice is too high for human ears.

Once you shower, you put on some comfortable clothes.

You go to your office. You dread in your spirit, the debriefing and the report you have to do.

“ ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKIN’ MIND!!!!”,Sam screeched, entering your office with Bucky.

“BOY, DON’T YOU YELL AT ME, I’M NOT FIVE”, you yell back at him.

“This the welcome I get, you two ganging up on me”, you huff.

“ I am not the one, who went head on to Kree soldiers, put Ihumann in the jet, got captured by the Kree, Bucky reminds you.

“We had to do everything to stay afloat for three weeks alone in space or did you forget Traia”. Bucky reminds you again.

“You jeopardize this whole mission, are you aware of that”, Bucky seethes.

“ Oh!, you act surprised with your hand on your chest. “Ladies and Gents, Non-binary peeps, he speaks”, extending your arms to the side.

“Yes, I did and I’ll do it again, I will not be impartial, waiting for instructions while beings are put in chains, used as live-experiments, to appease some bullshit power”. You demanded.

“ You sidetracked this mission and brought Ihumann to earth, what are we going to do with them,the air makes them nauseous, they do not even drink the same water as us, it makes them ill!,Sam speaks with disbelief, pointing to the spacejet.

“ I will find a solution, I am the doctor here, don’t you worry ‘bout it”, You answer him.

Sam huffs in disbelief with his hand on his hip. Bucky just sits on the chair, rubbing his temples.

You throw the chips on the table . The one that Bucky gave you ,two chips extras. They were not even aware of the other two.

Their eyes are wide. They look at the two extra chips and then each other.

“Here is your mission”. You say to them.

“I AM NOT STUPID, YOU TWO ALWAYS CUT MY WINGS IN MISSIONS” your voice hoarse with anger.

They both look at each other.

“ That’s not true!”, Sam rushes out.

“ Oh no ,it isn’t?, I've always had to ask Hill and Danvers, because you never want me to do outside work.”

“ All the schedules for the mission, I am the one that receives a little thing and some bullshit paperwork”.

“ I do it, 'cause I want you safe”, Bucky says trying to calm down.

" I don't want another kidnapping and you receiving the full force of a dying star on you”, Sam say pointing at you and getting closer to you.

"I know what I got myself into, when I decided that this is what I'm going to do for a living and I survived, I am here".

“We need to help the Ihumann, there are the ones suffering the most”, you plead to Sam.

“ We are trying to find a solution for that cold war, this can affect earth, our galaxy and you bringing Ihumann will jeopardize that. This will make us look biased! .” Sam defends.

“ Oh, I read the debriefing documents, the idea is that the Kree colonize Koraa and let them have their way and pretend we do not see it”, You answer with venom.

“ That looks like the most wise decision, for now, y/n, let them believe they have a little power and when they least expect, we come in”, Bucky defends.

“ Do you both realize that by doing that it is the ⅗ compromise all over again ?” You look at them with disdain.

“ y/n, Buck and Danvers are right”, Sam touches your arm up and down, but you retreat your arm from him.

“ Have you lost your sense of self!”, You look at Sam up and down.

“ Black people, Native Americans, we are the products of that atrocity to this day.

You, Danvers, and him think that is the best solution for the Ihumann”, you ask in disbelief.

“ Y’all disgust me, get the fuck outta my office, the door is right there”. You say to them with a tear in your eye.

They both look at you, with pleading eyes.

NOW!!, you shout at them.

Bucky stands from the chair, eyes down. Sam eyes down too and they leave.

You drop on your chair, your head down, you let the tears win.

You sob loud, letting the three weeks of stress get out of your system.

You cry for the young Ihumann that you saw dying, fighting for freedom, defending his folk. You will mourn for him according to their tradition. You take deep breaths, you dry your eyes, after some time.

Your ears still hurt from the strangled scream of the Ihumman.

Feeling a little bit better, you walk out of your office to the main kitchen. You take raw fish and poultry, portion them in Ziploc bags. You take more fish and poultry out of the freezer, defrost and portion them in Ziploc bags and put it all in a big shopping bag.

You enter the front doors and you give the Ihummann the portions.

“We can help you with the oxygen machine and water customization”, three young Ihumann women sign to you.

“We have enough oxygen, for a couple of days, in the space suit, we can do something that can filter the oxygen here and the water, my name is Kala”. She signs.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you Kala, we start tomorrow, at dawn, it is not much, I’m sorry”. You signed pointing at the food.

" and I am sorry for losing one of you", you signed, regret all over your face.

“It’s okay, this will really do, my name is Jouuma”, she signed to you.

"Moab, he died a hero, it hurts but it was not in vain, He would've been happy seeing we are free.",Joumma signed to you. You come close to her and extend your arm to hug her. You hugged each other and you distanced from each other

You put your hand in your chest and sigh in reliefs. They smile

They nod and yawn. “Get some sleep”. You signed.

“ It’s okay, again thank you for saving us, my name is Ula, goodnight”. One of them signed.

“Goodnight”, you signed to them, with a smile while exiting the spacejet.

You go back to your office. You take the mattress out of the sofabed.

“Thank Jesus, I bought this”.

You tiptoe to your shared bedroom with Sam and Bucky. They look asleep. You take some heavy blankets and then to the kitchen for some ice cream and chocolates.

You were watching some series, but you felt your eyes closing, you were full of chocolates and ice cream and you fell asleep on the sofabed

Sam and Bucky come to your office later in the night. They open the door and tip toe in.

They are both restless, you are not there. The bed feels cold, without you.

“Do you think she will get mad when she wakes up on the bed instead ?”, Sam asks.

Bucky shrugs.

“I just want us to sleep comfortably, I miss her and my bed”, Bucky says voice full tiredness and he yawns.

They see you deep in sleep. A pint of ice cream and chocolate wrappings inside the pint on the floor next to the sofa bed. The T.V projector on.

They see your alarm set at the crack of dawn and some calculations on the desk.

Sam, moves the curtains and sees the spacejet.

“She is going to work with them in the morning”, Sam states to Bucky.

Bucky nodded with his lips pursed.

Sam and Bucky’s eyes are puffy from crying.

Bucky carries you out of the office bridal style.

Sam puts the mattress back in the sofa, turns T.V off and takes out the pint of ice cream with him to the kitchen.

He goes to the spacejet to talk with Ihumann, with a translator.

In your bedroom, Bucky puts you in the middle of the bed. He sets the alarm the same time you had the alarm in the office.

He caresses your face with a delicacy to not wake you up. He ghosts his lips over your hairline and breathes you in. He realizes there, that you are not the same wide eyed sugar baby at the start of your relationship with them. It cost him to shake that state.

They were your providers, you called for them when you were in trouble, but you grew out of that.

You are now Dr. y/n. y/l/n, pioneering space anthropologist, alien anatomist and alien rights advocate and scientist.

He sighs and tangles his leg on top of yours, facing you and goes to sleep.

Sam enters the bedroom

He sees the beautiful sight of you and Bucky breathing deep asleep.

He realizes, it is true what you said earlier. He has lost his way. In his way to mitigate the scandal that was the world knowing their relationship with you, he began to be more complacent to the point, he is not the same Sam Wilson.

You are showing him that when you cannot compromise, you won't. You are trying to prevent a system of discrimination. All of the things, he should be doing.

He goes to the other side of the bed next to you, facing your back, he sleeps the closest he can to you, breathing you in and ghosting his lips over your shoulder.

You woke up and groaned at the sound of the alarm beeping for the third time. You feel two weights next to you. Bucky was cocooned next to you with his leg tangled in yours. Sam was on his back but he has your arm extended on his chest.

You detangle yourself from them and get out the bed. You see them stir a little in their sleep, their faces screwed up. “Hmm, even in their sleep , they can feel whenever I go”, you thought. You shake your head. You love them so much but you cannot let them stagnate you because they want to protect you. You know they mean well, but you are your own person, you have to be.

You take a shower, put on some comfortable blue overalls and a blue shirt with some blue working boots and you go to the spacejet with the Ihumann. Blue is the mourning color of the Ihumann.

Kala, Jouuma and Ula are up in their spacesuits.

“Morning”, you sign

They salute, signing morning. “You are wearing blue”, Ula noticed.

“I am in mourning for Moab, I will shop, some blue clothes for you later”, you told them.

“Thank you but we do not want to become burdensome to you and your “husbands” ”, Joumma tells you through signs.

You point at them, then do waves on your face , put the number three with your fingers and a circle with your hands, you wiggle your finger and then throw your hand behind your back hard.

That means:

“You deserve mourning for Moab, it is not a burden”, you assure them.

“ How do you know I have “husbands”?”, you signed.

“ Yesterday night, a man of your color introduced himself as “Sam”, your husband and said the other man with the metal arm “Bucky” was your husband too, that you are working hard to give us a space, he translated with a virtual translator. If we need anything, press this for any emergency, they will come cause you need sleep”, Ula signed and pointed to the emergency tablet.

“He said, he will try his best on the council to give us our land back”, Jouuma signed.

You sighed. You are happy that the Sam you know is still there. You know, he does not make empty promises.

They are in awe seeing the dawn and the birds fly.

They are smiling at each other and at the sky. You know that feeling. Whenever you are in space, you are like them, excited from everything around you.

With that all of you go to the basement of the compound

Later that day, you brought all of regular clothes and blue clothes for them and cut holes in the pants so that their tails were free. You wore blue and did intermediate fasting with them for three days in honor of Moab

You were working day and night for a week straight. Kala, Jouuma and Ula were the test subject for the chambers and they gave some recommendations.

You enlisted the help of Shuri, Tony, Bruce and Helen to make the lowest part of the basement of the compound suitable for them. The basement was big enough for some chambers and a couple of showers with special ionized water for them. Your other work was deciphering the encryption on the chips with Carol.

It was mostly a reading and staying quiet affair. There was still a little animosity between you and Carol, since you did not agree on the conditions for the end of the cold war.

You have given her the cold treatment. She has apologized already but you were not going to let her off the hook that easy.

“y/n”, Carol says your name soft.

You turn to her.

“I am so sorry, for not seeing the Ihumann how the conditions of armistice can affect the Ihumann, I was shortsighted and I brought Wilson and Barnes to my lack of vision, It was completely insensitive of me not thinking not seeing this from your point of view. I understand if you do not accept my apology. Regardless, I will work on seeing things from different points of views and that these solutions actually help the people that needed the most. I hope de-encrypting this can give us the upper hand so that we can help the Ihummann, Carol apologize.

you chuckle.

“That was nice”

“Hmm, how does those words taste coming out of your mouth”, you tease Carol smirking,

She rolls her eyes, “like the worst kind of vinegar, It feels horrible when I fuck up, horrible but they are necessary”, She admits.

“I hope we can find something with the program we installed”, You go and lay your head on her shoulder.

She sighs and nods, looking at the chips with connected to the projector,

“When are you going to resolve your differences with Wilson and Barnes?” Carol asked.

“I have never seen two men so lovesick and sad. It is like a Skrull tragedy”, Carol expressed.

“Maybe tonight, but I will have a party with the Ihummann to celebrate in the basement, you are invited too”. You hand her a face mask with a filter and a pair of headphones.

She is surprised with the mask and headphones on her hand. “The party is in the basement”, you say walking out.

The basement is nice, It is their environment, they even manage to start growing some of their vegetables. Ula had some seeds in her pocket.

You are there with your oxygen filtering mask and some headphones to hear the music to your frequency, courtesy of Tony and Shuri. They designed a surround system that was on the frequency of sound apt for them but not deafening for the rest tower.

You were showing different music of “Terra”(Earth), you were showing them Afrobeats, now they are listening to Beyonce's ``Already. The video was there on the projector and they were imitating the dance steps, step by step perfectly. The Ihumann have amazing photographic reflexes. They understand the lyrics, they love the rhythm. There is a translator embedded in the projector. If you take your headphones off, you are sure you will be deaf. They have the volume so high. That’s why you talk in signs. Human voice or humanoid voice and its frequency is too low for them and their voice is too loud for your ears.

They ask you if the blue men in the video are alien, they have blue skin. You signed to them they are human but painted blue. They all signed oh..

You signed that you will show them another genre and another artist from you were a little bit younger. You play Send the Addy and 19 by Flo Milli. “It is called Rap/ Hip-Hop and this one of my favorite artists, Flo Milli”.

They start jumping to the song and then imitating how you dance.

You start dancing just like how you remember doing the way you used to. Going all down and starting twerking to the floor and they all do the same. You laugh seeing them twerk

You remember that night in the hotel years ago.

How lively and also kind of naïve you were.

How dependent you used to be of Sammy and Buck. You miss that girl from time to time.

Before trending on twitter as #blackmonicalewinsky, before going with the Guardians to escape all that scandal, change your identity, become a pioneer in a career made by Jane Foster and Carol Danvers, going to missions on different planets, before being an avenger, before escaping from space pirates and rather jump on a dying star than to be theirs, Carol finding you passed out floating in space and getting your powers.

Carol arrived at the celebration and you know she likes Classic Rock.

You signed to them that the type of music they are going to listen to is Rock and the band is Gun n Roses, that they are classic and renowned here on Terra. They all have wide eyes and they mouth Oh..

After a while of rock music videos, they were listening and watching Michael Jackson’s Remember the time. You told them that Michael was one of the best artists to ever grace Terra. He made moonwalking famous and he is a staple of Terran music.

They all watch your signing intently to remember what you said, like good kids in school.

They were like little kids in a movie theater. You look at them screaming scared when Michael appeared from the dust in the video.

“Those sweet memories

Will always be dear to me

And girl no matter what was said

I will never forget what we had

Now baby” Michael was singing.

Your mind went to all the amazing times, Sammy, Buck and you had. All the times when you felt on top of the world. The song is one of Sam and Buck’s favorites. You need to make amends with each other. You want to but you just haven’t got the time. You are scared your fights were never this long. It has been a month. You are in that weird grey zone. Not that mad at each other but there is still not a proper closure to this.

At the end they were imitating the dance moves in the dance break of the video, perfectly just like the dancers in the video. It was outstanding, seeing Jouuma imitate Michael Jackson so good like she was some live extension of him.

“Michael would’ve been proud; aliens listening to his music and enjoying it”, you thought.

“ I am going to get ‘em and resolve our differences”, you say to Carol.

“ Go, get’em, tiger, You will be wobbling to the office tomorrow, I just know”, Carol snickered, you shove her. She laughs and you shake your head and stifle a laugh.

Talos was with Sam and Bucky and some of the Ihummann with their oxygen filter mask.

Sam and Bucky were smoking.

Sam was smoking a Cuban cigar, Bucky a plain Marlboro.

They were all concentrating on a game of poker.

It was ridiculous how many times they have lost to the Nuk, Cab and Ilu,the Ihumann playing poker with them.

You smell tobacco and you roll your eyes. You hate tobacco, but your heart softens. They only do that when they are too stressed.

You saw them playing. You went to the table. You sat on Sam’s lap, you kissed him on the corner of his lips. You did the same to Bucky, you sat on his lap, you kiss the corner of his lips. You get up and walk , then you turn around your head, looking at them with desire and continue walking, swaying your hips.

All the Ihumann, Talos, the other Skrulls, look at Bucky and Sam.

They start either signing whistling sounds or whistling to Sam and Bucky.

Sam feels his cheeks heat up, Bucky actually gets red in the face.

“I see you will get lucky tonight,boys, I don’t know much about Earth women, but that is a woman after something, Talos said to them, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You know that is the first sign of loving, we have received in a month”, Bucky tells the group.

“What the hell are you here for, GO!!!, to where she is, Nuk, the Ihumann signed to them.

Bucky and Sam understood with the translator. He and Sam get up from the table and walk to their room so fast, one probably could see the dust in shape in their form, just like the cartoons.

You took all your clothes. You went straight to the shower.

The water was relaxing and giving you courage.

You hear their footsteps in the room and you smile.

You are vibrating with anticipation just like that one time in the hotel or your first time together.

They hear the shower. They take their clothes in a frenzy. In a second,they are only in their boxes.

They enter the bathroom. They see you through the glass and their mouths water.

“May we join, ma’am ?”Bucky asks all breathy, eyes darkening, taking you in.

“You may”, you whisper to them, sliding the glass barrier.

Sam and he take off their boxers and step into the shower, enter in and slide the door close.

You feel the air change when they step up.

The way they are surrounding you.

Bucky goes behind you and Sam in front.

Your lips are quivering, feeling Sam and Bucky this close.

He cups your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs on your cheeks.

He ghosts his lips on top of yours and kisses you unhurried.

He increased the pace of the kiss. He sweeps his tongue on your lip. Your lips part giving him access. You are making out with him, massaging each other’s tongues.

You are falling in that feeling of surrendering to them.

Bucky hugs you from behind then he starts massaging your breast. The water, the contrast of metal and flesh. You throw your head on his shoulder. Your breathing is getting ragged.

Bucky is hissing in your ear. The rubbing of your ass against his dick was making him dizzy.

Sam brings you close to him again, to kiss you with all the passion he has.

Bucky entered his finger in you. You gasp into the kiss and Sam starts to suckle on your neck. You are so soaked, and warm on his fingers. “ Fuck it, I can’t wait, I going to take you here ”, Bucky rushes out

Sam stops the water.

He makes you find support by putting your hands on the tiles, caging Sam in.

He brings your ass to him and he lines up with your entrance.

He thrusts into you in one go, groaning “Goddamn”.

You cry out “Daddy, fuck!”.

Sam drops on his knees in between your legs, flicking his tongue on your clit.

You go cross-eyed. “Sir, fuck, that’s so good”, you whine

After a while, he starts flicking his tongue on Bucky’s balls and Bucky stutters his movement moaning.

“FUCK!!, you two are going to be the death of me”, Bucky rushes out in between groans and moans.

You can only moan and bring your ass back to him.

“Daddy, you feel so good”, you shrill.

“Fuck, baby, bring that ass to me, sweetheart keep doing that”, he moans.

Sam keeps flicking his tongue, humming, moaning against Bucky’s perineum.

He is jerking himself hard, he stops when he feels he is too close. He walks on his knees a little so that he can stand up from Bucky legs. He just looks at sight of you and Bucky ravishing each other.

“Yes, yes, fuck yes”, you babble.

You feel yourself tightening around him.

“Daddy, please, I…”, you scream

“I am close too, honey”, Bucky breathes out. He is going in and out unrelentingly. You come with a strangled high pitched moan. Your whole body shakes with release.

“Baby, I love you so much, baby, y/n”, he groans, picking his pace up to a new speed.

Damn!!, you cry out at him going faster.

You feel his dick twitch

After a few thrusts, you feel the warmth of his cum inside you and him groaning your name.

“Wow”, he breathes out. You catch your breaths.

You hum in response, you feel light and relaxed.

He pulls out, turns you to face him and kisses you. You both smile into your kiss.

You hug each other tight.

He runs his hands up and down your back to your ass.

You breathe him in. You missed this and both of them so much.

You both approach Sam.

Bucky grabs Sam’s head, kisses him hard, they hug each other, grope each other, rub against each other.

They are making out. All tongue, moaning and humming. Bucky kisses his neck and sucks on it to leave a mark. Sam moans and hiss.

“That was so hot, baby boy”, Sam tells Bucky out of breath.

“It was so good, you under me and our baby girl fucking herself on me”, Bucky responds out of breath. They both look at you.

Your mouth waters and your pussy throbs, watching them.

“How about we take this to the bed ?”, Sam asks, his voice raspy, deep.

You look at him. He is rock hard. You bite your lip and you nod.

“Yes, sir”, you answer him.

You exit the shower.

You all take your towels and dry in a rush, leaving the towels there on the counter.

In the bedroom, you kiss Sam, all tongue, your hand on his ass, his hands on your ass.

You are both touching and groping each other.

You kiss his neck then his chest, leaving a trail of kisses until you drop to your knees.

Bucky was enjoying the show, laying on the bed. One hand behind his head and the other jerking himself off slow.

“What do you want, pretty baby ? Sam looks down at you, grabbing his dick.

“ Use my mouth, sir”, you look at him with doe eyes.

He taps his dick on your lips.

“Open up”, he says. You open your mouth wide.

He goes slowly into your mouth, “Fuuuck”, he rasped.

Then he pulls slow, “Goddamn”, he rasped.

You choke on his dick over and over again.You bobbed your head up and down, gagging

You jerk the part you can’t reach.

He groans “Shiiiit”,feeling the back of your throat.

“That’s it, honey, deep just like that, you are so good with that mouth, Bucky encourages while stroking himself.

You take Sam out your mouth and lick his head full of pre cum with kitten licks.

“Ahh,baby” he rushes out.

He fucks your mouth without mercy.

He stops.

He sits on the edge of bed, he wiggles his finger to come to him. “Crawl to me, like the good girl you are”, he demands. “Yes sir”, you answer, crawling to him.

You reach to him and he grabs the back of your neck. Driving your head up and down the way he saw fit. He threw his head back, lips parted, eyes to the ceiling, he was breathing heavy, moaning, hissing, groaning.

Bucky crawled next to Sam and kiss him.

He whispers to his ear: “She sucking your dick good, sweetheart?, I know she is good at that, that mouth of hers does wonders. You keep sucking him, taking a breather here and there and going back to business.

You hear what Bucky says and Sam moaning, your pussy feels wetter.

Bucky grabs your head, making your head go up and down to his pace, while kissing Sam’s neck .

Sam nods fast, moaning.

Bucky pulls your head off Sam's dick.

“Baby girl, come up, put that ass on daddy’s face”, Bucky rasped.

You put your ass on his face and you're facing his dick, you stroke it and he hisses.

“Fuck you’re dripping wet, you like sucking dick that much, pretty girl?” Bucky asks you then lick your slick.

You mewl; “Yes, Daddy”

“Come here, Sammy, give our girl what she needs”, Bucky tells Sam.

Sam crawls to where you are.

He is on his knees, legs a little wide, each on each side of Bucky’s head.

You are your hands and knees and Bucky is under you.

Sam lines up with your entrance and thrust in.

“Sir!!!”,you scream

He rams into you, he spanks your ass cheek.

You jolt and whine; Sir, that feels so good, spank me, please”.

He spanks you hard, you feel your ass tingling and burning. You hiss.

Sam fucks into you, groaning, moaning, breathing heavy.

He grips your hips hard and thrust into you fast, while bringing your ass to him.

You let out high pitch moans and groans.

“That’s it baby, I wanna hear you, I’ve missed those sounds”, He says driving into you with force.

Bucky is under seeing the connection between Sam and you.

He scoots a little and he is under your clit.

He licks fast on your clit, humming, while jerking himself off.

His licks, the vibration of his hum, Sam unforgiving pace.

It is too much.

“Sir, daddy, I’m…”, you cannot not even finish your sentence.

Sam levels a brutal slap to your ass.

“You are going to take what we give, baby”, Sam grits out, still fucking you non stop.

You mewl: “yes, sir”.

You feel him so deep, you close your eyes.

You scream: “Fuck, sir, Fuck”.

He yanks you by the hair. You hiss.

“Who am I, naughty girl ?”, He grits out,

His bottom lip between his teeth, He is going somehow deeper.

“YOU’RE MY SIR !!'', you scream so hard, the Ihumann would finally hear a human voice for the first time in their life.

Bucky still licking you, Sam yanking your hair and his pace.

“GOD!!, you scream, you feel your insides tighten hard and clear liquid comes out.

You come gushing out.

Sam pulls out and he wets his fingers with your juices.

“Fucking sweet”, he states and hums at the taste. He stares at how you squirt and Bucky laps it all up.

Bucky catches it with his mouth. He jerks himself faster. He comes with a moaned version of y/n , Sammy.

You grab the sheets hard. Your comfort is Bucky warm abs against your face. Your face has Bucky cum.

Sam thrust in hard again.

“Baby, squeeze me like that, it’s so fucking goood”, Sam rushes out of breath.

He is going at it, fast, demanding.

You mewl, moan and groan. Your eyes closed and lips parted.

He keeps the pace and cries out “SHIT!!!, He groans: “Oh, my God”.

His eyes close, breathing ragged, he comes with a long, loud moan.

He empties inside you.

Sam pulls out, taking deep breaths. He lays on his side of the bed.

You catch your breath, resting your head on Bucky’s abs. your ass is still up.

Your pussy pushes all the cum out and Bucky laps it all up.

“Ahh fuuckk”, you sigh, you are so sensitive, feeling Bucky's tongue slowly eating you out.

“You taste so good together”, Bucky says savoring you and Sam.

You scoop Bucky’s cum and lap it all up.

You stand up from him and go to your spot in the bed. The middle.

Bucky goes to your right and puts his head on your shoulder.

Sam puts his head on your other shoulder too.

There is a comfortable silence.

You all look at the ceiling in a sort of trance.

Your bodies are still vibrating from the pleasure.

You remember this feeling. You felt like this, when you were together for the first time.

You smile and start singing:

Do you remember when we fell in love?

We were young and innocent then

Do you remember how it all began?

It just seemed like heaven, so why did it end?

Sam followed with:

“Do you remember, back in the fall?

We'd be together all day long

Do you remember us holding hands?

In each other's eyes, we'd stare

Tell me”

You sign all together:

Do you remember the time?

When we fell in love

Do you remember the time?

When we first met, girl

Do you remember the time?

(Oh, I)

When we fell in love

Do you remember the time?

Sam continue singing:

Do you remember how we used to talk?

You know, we'd stay on the phone at night till dawn

Do you remember all the things we said?

Like, "I love you so, I'll never let you go

Bucky sings, horrible out of key;

Do you remember, back in the spring?

Every morning, birds would sing

Do you remember those special times?

They'll just go on and on

In the back of my mind

You laugh after that.

“What made you remember “remember the time”?”, Bucky asks you

“ We were having the party in the basement, the Ihumann were watching the video and dancing to that, when I went looking out for you’, you answer to him. ‘It is amazing how they catch on moves so damn fast, they dance the same as the video dancers, like outstanding and it is a little bit eerie like Jouuma was like a reincarnation of Michael.” You add on.

“Okay, space nerd”, Sam teases you. Bucky chuckles at that.

You glare at them

They face you. Sam faces you with his weight on his elbow so that he can see your profile. Bucky does the same.

“I am sorry, y/n”, Sam starts.

“You were right, I was losing my sense self, we need to help the most vulnerable,

We will find another solution for the Kree and the Skrulls and the Ihummann.

You show me what I should be doing. When you can’t compromise, don't.

I am sorry for holding you back. I just want to be your protector, just like I was once ,but I know things are different now. It just cost me. You have been through a lot and I wanted to save you from all that and I couldn’t. I will change. I will ask you what you need instead of assuming, I am sorry, baby ”, he states and he chokes a little sob on the last part.

“Aww, Sammy, you and Buck are the people that make me feel safe and loved. It's just that I’m not in college anymore. A lot happened and I’m not the same person but I love you and how you two always are there despite our differences ” you say while sitting up against the headboard.

You let him put his head on your chest.

“ I am sorry, I sidetrack the mission but it is just that when I see something go south, I can’t ignore it”, I am sorry I kicked you out of my office like that. I will try my best not to lose my temper like that again”, you apologize to them.

“You are right, y/n, It is a horrible plan, we need to have some alternative and I know it is in those chips. I am sorry for being an ass to you in space and I am sorry for making you feel bad to save the Ihumman, like Sammy said we want to protect you and we feel we have fail at that, when everyone were against you for this relationship, the scandal, the kidnapping, you getting your powers but you are right you are different but at the same baby we fell in love with and I love you and I promise not to be overbearing”, Bucky apologizes. He puts his head on your chest too.

“You were right in saving them, I was so far removed, that was me and Steve in the 40s.

If he didn’t disobey orders to save me constantly, I wouldn't be here”, Bucky states

You kiss his head.

" Buck, it's so good that you think that way, I am thankful for you and Sammy, you two did what you can, you received a lot of backlash too . You are enough more than enough ",you say to him, rubbing his back.

“You still owe me a fucking car, asshole, you rip my fucking steering wheel”, Sam tease Bucky with faux offence.

Bucky sighed “I am sorry, Sammy for damaging your car and rip the steering wheel”, Bucky apologizes

You all laugh.

“What are we going to do if we do not find anything on those chips”, You worry.

“Hey baby you are one of the most brilliant minds there is out there , you will figure it out and we will be right here by your side”, Sam reassures you and Bucky nods in agreement.

“Let that grey matter of yours, rest a minute, honey pie”, Bucky said to you while bopping your nose.

“You are right and I love you so much”, you answer.

“We love you so much, pretty baby, Sam answered you and kissed your cheek”.

You all went to the bathroom and shower for real this time. They were kisses here and there.

You brush your teeth.

Sam grabs the cocoa butter and he moisturizes you and Bucky then moisturizes Sam.

Bucky wraps the night scarf around your head for your hair with a good knot

. Sam changed the covers and put the dirty covers in the dirty clothes basket.

You change into your PJS. You wore a silk camisole. Bucky some loose shorts, no underwear and no shirt. Sam wore some sweatpants and no shirt.

You kissed each other goodnight and slept tangled with each other.

#sambucky #send the addy #remember the time #blackmissfrizzle challenge

54 notes · View notes

queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

the way home | epilogue | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Warnings: some language

Word count: 1,340

Read from the beginning

Read on AO3

------

“If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends, make it last forever, friendship nev-- ow! fuck you, scrubby pad! -- eeeeennddss.”

“Babe?”

From her squatted position on the shower floor, Gabby groans and leans back to poke her head around the corner.

“Yeah?” she calls out.

“Your phone’s going off.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what does it say?”

There’s a brief pause, and then: “It’s all notifications from something called are slash time travel.”

“Ooh! Can you bring it to me?”

“My hands are covered in spackle.”

“Mine are covered in bleach, though,” she whines.

There’s a sigh, then the sound of footsteps coming down the creaky hallway. A moment later, Iman pushes open the door and winces.

“Holy shit, how much Comet did you use?”

Jumping to her feet, Gabby cheerfully abandons the chemical-induced haze of the guest bathroom shower and takes her phone from her girlfriend.

“Thanks, honey.”

“The window’s… why isn’t the window open? I’m opening the window.”

She nods her head, letting Iman fuss in the background while she swipes open the app. Her breath catches at the top post’s title: I think I found the new celebrity time traveler.

The body of the post is copied from an article published by National Geographic that details a new historical discovery.

“Our running theory was that this was a Dread Pirate Roberts situation,” Professor Belinda Doyle explained. Doyle, a professor of history at Boston College, focuses her work primarily on piracy and smuggling in the 17th to 18th centuries.

“We believed that the strange gaps in the timeline meant that Captain McTavish was either killed in battle or hanged, and that another female pirate using that same name would take her place. We know now that wasn’t the case, thanks to the artifacts and documents that have been uncovered. Instead, McTavish was disappearing over the years to have a family. It would’ve been hard, certainly, for a female pirate during that time to take on raising a child. With the legend she made of herself, it makes sense that she would’ve kept her family as much of a secret as possible.”

Several items were found on Tiburon, a tiny island in the northern Caribbean, including a painting, a glass ornament, and a small chest of other artifacts. Most of the objects are in near-mint condition. The blown-glass trinket is still wrapped in a cloth with a slip of parchment tucked inside. The documents inside the chest include ship logs, inventories, letters, and birthday cards. The most stunning relic is the family portrait, painted by famed artist Marianne de la Vega sometime in the 1760s. The painting features McTavish, her husband Captain Edward Mortemer, and their two children.

Past the text dump are side-by-side photos of Elena’s old headshot and a copy of the painting.

“Oh, my god!” Gabby sprints out of the bathroom and down the hallway to show Iman. “Honey, look! Look, it’s her! I found her, it’s her!”

“Babe, stop, you’re going to get bleach all over the new… holy shit! It’s her!”

------

“You’re fidgeting again.”

“I don’t make it a habit of sitting in one place and not moving.”

“You do when you’re reading.”

“Ah, but I don’t have a book to keep me occupied though, do I?”

“I’ll tell you a story, Papa!”

Elena puts a hand on their son’s shoulder as he starts to get up. “No, Christopher, you need to sit still, remember?”

He juts out his bottom lip in a pout. “I want to tell Papa a story.”

“You can tell me a story when we’re done,” Edward reassures. “I promise.”

“Mama!” Andie coos from Edward’s lap, trying to stretch her short arms out and grab hold of her mother. “Mama!”

He tries soothing their daughter with a toy, but her soft babbling soon turns to hiccupy cries. He shifts to catch Marianne’s eye from around the easel.

“I apologize, but can we…?”

“‘Tis fine,” she murmurs, most of her concentration still on the canvas before her.

Elena gathers Andie into her arms and bounces her on her lap, knowing she despises sitting still as much as her father does.

“This would be much easier if it were one of your photographs,” he murmurs with a smirk. She thinks of the secret Polaroid she has stashed away, the one that she uses to take photos of their crew and their little family.

“The camera won’t be invented for another sixty years, sorry. Besides, you’re the one who insisted on getting a portrait done.”

“It’ll be nice to have.”

“You only wanted one because Robert and Julien had one made.”

“Please try to keep steady,” Marianne warns again.

They settle back into their chairs, having not realized they drifted closer during their teasing. Other than Andie demanding to swap laps a few more times, the rest of the afternoon is smooth sailing. Elena feels like she can make that comparison, given that they’ve sailed half the world over now.

“Alright, you may stand.”

She releases the children, much to their relief, and they race through the door and out into the courtyard. Edward helps her up from her chair and they cross the room to see the painting. The background is still blank, save for a halo of deep blue around the family, but the rest is in full color.

“It’s wonderful,” Elena murmurs, drawing her hand through the air to motion to each fine detail. “The ruffles in Andie’s dress, the pattern of my coat -- oh, and especially your eyes. A spectacular job, Miss de la Vega.”

“Aye, a fantastic job,” Edward agrees, then draws up short. “You know what I’ve just realized, though, lass?”

“What?”

“We’ll have to have another one made once this one comes along,” he says, reaching out to palm the obvious swell of their child.

Pursing her lips, Elena tilts her head and studies the painting.

“I don’t know. She is already in this one, technically.”

Edward snorts out a laugh, knocking his shoulder into hers and prompting a chuckle from her. “Same time next year, then, Miss de la Vega?”

“Of course. I’ll have this sent to you once it’s finished.” Marianne glances up from organizing her paints to smile up at them. “I think it’ll look rather grand above your hearth.”

With a last farewell, Elena takes Edward’s hand and wanders out into the courtyard with him. The afternoon sun bakes along the stonework, but in the shadowed recesses, the summer day is tolerable. Palm fronds tickle their shoulders as they stroll through the breezeway.

“How are we going to tell her our ship doesn’t have a fireplace?”

“I think she already knows,” Elena assures. “The swords at our sides aren’t exactly subtle.”

A grin flashes across his face.

“Well, we do have a reputation to uphold.”

The high-pitched sound of laughter leads them to the center courtyard, where Ginny and Lottie are chasing Christopher around a bubbling fountain. Andie cheers on from her seat at the fountain’s edge, the fine ruffles of her dress already soaked, tired from her earlier race. Rushing forward, Edward snatches Christopher up and throws him over his shoulder.

“Have you prepared the rigging, sailor?”

“Nay!” he squeals with laughter, wriggling as his father tickles him.

“‘Nay’?” Edward swings him with ease to his other shoulder. “Captain McTavish, I believe we’ve a lazy pirate on our hands. What are we to do with him?”

Elena hums, feigning a look of consideration as she boosts Andie down from the fountain ledge. Ginny scoops her up onto her hip, to which Elena shoots her a look of gratitude.

“I don’t know. Maybe a night in the brig?”

“Mama, no!” Christopher protests in between giggles.

“No!” Andie interrupts. “Go home!”

“An excellent idea.” Slowing his stride, Edward sidles up next to Elena. She takes the opportunity to ruffle their son’s hair as he chatters away. “What does the captain say, though?”

“Set course for Tiburon,” Elena agrees. “It’s time to go home.”

------

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

The painter’s surname is a reference to Evelyn de la Vega, a patient in OPH. Also, thus ends this series! I’ve got a google doc with a few ficlets / fragments of scenes that fit within this series that I may get around to posting at some point. Other than that, here’s the end.

#distant shores #distant shores fic #edward x mc #edward mortemer #f: the way home #Kaila writes things #ahh epilogue time

19 notes · View notes

smells-like-ink-and-fire · 4 years

Text

Innocence died screaming, honey I should know

Here’s the thing: For all his talk of Gotham being a life-sucking, happiness draining shithole, leaving it had never been truly an option on Jason’s mind. It was his shithole of a city goddammit, the grim dirt streets he would die on. It was his home, the blood on his veins. This city had its claws deep into him, and leaving, especially leaving never to return, had been simply impossible, did not compute to him.

Especially now, that Jason was getting along better with the Bats these days. He still didn’t, and never would agree with Bruce regarding his no-killing rule. But things were better, or at least he thought they were. His presence was expected and even accepted. There were some awkwardness and silent nobody knew how to fill, but there were also jokes and eating junk food together after patrol. Sure, there were a lot of snippy comments but he made those too, gave as good as he got, and Bruce still didn’t quite trust him, not to the extent he did with the other, though that was just a given, he had made peace with it, he still killed, after all, a little suspicion was an acceptable price to pay for it.

Self-righteous, holier than thou bat.

Still, there was an uneasiness on his chest whenever the pointed looks got too much when they would start questioning his actions and his plans like he hadn’t been trained by the world's greatest detective like the rest of them and League of Shadows on top of that. Forgetting that Jason had effectively taken control of the East End in less than two months, and without any of them noticing.

The good parts didn’t lessen the rage-hurt out when Barbara sneered at him, acting like he couldn’t be trusted in the field, like the fact he had issues, that he cared about the victims because he had been one made him incapable of being rational, turned him into something that was eternally compromised. Like he was a mindless raging monster, who would shoot to kill at mere provocation.

He had been, once, fresh out of those green waters, traumatized, angry, afraid, and replaced. He had been a child, too, didn’t that count for something?

Their veiled accusations of insanity, that he had a problem, that needed to be handled like he was a fucking dog, the angry gremlin claims that he was unhinged and the only reason that they kept him around was to keep an eye on him, it all made Jason feel queasy, made him feel less than human.

It made him wonder how truly welcome he was. Was he welcome or they were just trying to appease their guilt and keep a loose cannon from the streets?

But there were undoubtedly good things too. Moments that made it worth it. His relationship with Steph and Duke, and surprisingly, Replacement was getting better, even though the first two were not around as much as he would like. The nights they had spent chewing off some of the undoubtedly brilliant but assholes teachers while demolishing mountains of homework had been fun, and Replacement-Tim was quite a sass master, now only if he could convince the kid to take a step back from WE so that he wouldn’t have a heart attack before he could drink legally.

Replacement, however, was why he was here. Here being diner on the border of the Bowery and Robinsonville, The Raging Duck, a new place that Golden Boy wanted to try, make a family bonding experience out of it, Jason was sure. Replacement had twisted his way around with words in a shape that made it impossible for him not to come. His saving grace was that Jason had already made clear that he couldn’t stay long, under the pretext of having to verify that month payments collection from the Bowery.

Which was goddammed good thing because this whole outing had been a mistake. The last couple weeks had been rough, with the stress of studying and writing applications for his master degree, the couple of murders that almost led to a gang war between the Falcone and the Russians, plus a decoy staged by the Riddler, as his newest scape plan, that had taken too long to crack leading to an accident that had killed three people and would have killed a lot more if Jason hadn’t said fuck and put bullet holes on some goons heads. This in turn led to an inevitable argument because of Batman's continuous incapacity to see the necessity of his actions while on some level recognizing that was the only poss0ible decision meant that tension had been higher than usual.

Therefore, putting everybody in a room together was definitely not the best idea, Dickie! The last ten minutes certainly proved so, what had started as an easy-going conversation about their early on mishaps of the field, which included a hefty number of stories where the main theme was “And then I said Fuck Batman – With varying degrees of success” that had started as a split-second change of subject in order to avoid a fight breaking out, had turned into passive-aggressive attacking Jason. The worst part was that Jason wasn’t even sure they were doing on purpose.

Did the even realize he was sitting right next to them? Or was he just a ghost?

“… and then the fantastic Robin fell three stores down only to be needed to be saved by the incredible Spoiler! So, listen to me kids, if you’re going to say fuck Batman you should at least be sure there is something to break your fall before you jump.” - Steph finished the story with a flourish, going back to her waffles.

“That was a level of stupidity that I wasn’t aware that you were capable of Replacement. Really, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.

“Please, as if you weren’t the first one to ignore an order just to fuck with B, Jason. There’s a list. The Incident with the Falcone. Killer Crock latest scape. The entire shit show that was last week. – Tim shot back, mulish, poking at his fries

And every single of those missions was a raging success.

“Which is the one involving Babs, back when she was still BG, you know the one she always mentions, because I don’t know what you did dude but she’s still pissed at you for it.”

“Oh, I know! Bruce forced them to work together on that one, it was a drug-smuggling operation that involved kids. Jason jumped in instead of waiting for her signal. Needless to say, it did not end up well. Babs was so very pissed.”

Yeah for the assholes that thought using kids as drug mules was a good idea. BG was just made the street rat had a better plan than her

“Is that why warehouse 25F is a gory, burned-out mess?”

“Nah, that came later, during that corruption case that nearly put the Comish in the hospital. Or maybe it was the one involving that Nazi Arts dealer?”

“Is there a difference? They always end up in unnecessary explosions. Todd’s need for dramatics and overuse of force are well documented”

Because you can talk about overuse of force, demon spawn.

“Robin. Less explosions. Trying to help. Hurt.”

“Yeah, he was trying to help Cass, nobody is denying that the thing is Jason desire to be a little shit and prove Batman wrong is way stronger than his drive to help people, and even though there were far less explosions back then, both he and innocent people have gotten hurt.”

How you’d know? You weren’t around back then Dickface.

“So, we can agree that it’s basically a Pavlovian response for him at this point. Your stubbornness and desire to say Fuck Batman no matter the consequences have been able to surpass death Jason, and if that it’s not a feat, I don’t know what is. Congratulations, really!” – Steph summarized.

He had been holding up fine until that point but he just didn’t have the strength to it anymore, every word out it Tim's mouth felt like the blow of crowbar shattering his ribs, chocking on his own blood because a Batarang slashed his throat. He felt faint. He felt dangerously close to crying.

“I have to go.” – Jason got out of his chair.

“Jason…” – The pitying and yet reproachful note on Dick’s voice made his skin crawl.

“I said I couldn’t stay very long. Some of us have stuff to do. You know criminal empires to run, places to blow up, kneecaps to shoot.” – He doped a twenties bill on the table.

“Todd. Cease being childish. Just because you are unable to accept your failures, and the fact that you were incompetent and arrogant enough to be captured by an enemy does not mean you should incapable of accepting constructive criticism.”

“Not being childish gremlin. I do have a criminal empire to run. And I do take constructive criticism, preferably from people who know what the hell they are talking about. You know people that are more than the “blood sons” of people that are greater than themselves. Noise midgets, not so much. Bye.” – Jason out of the dinner before any of them can reply.

See you never again.

He doesn’t know how he gets back to his closest safe house. It’s a reasonably good one. He likes this one. He focusses on the things he likes. Hardwood floor. The light green paint. On the things, he doesn’t. The shitty heating. The fact that the cabinets doors don’t shut all the way.

Breaths. Slowly. In and Out. Counts to three hundred. Breaths again.

The tears still prickle on his eyes. His chest feels hollow. His throat is dry. He doesn’t have the strength to move from where he’s sat on the floor, his back against the door. Going a few rounds with Deathstroke had hurt less. It certainly never made him want to crawl under his bed and stay there until the world forget he existed. Of course, Slade had also never blamed for his own death.

Even though his own father had. Reckless, overly aggressive, incapable of following orders, loud-mouthed Robin that got what he deserved, Bruce had said. Maybe not to his face but he had said it. Then again it had been his fault, hadn’t it?

He takes a few more breaths, tries to push his emotions back, locking them deep, and walks to the fridge, pours himself a glass of water. Drinks it. His mind goes back to the conversation. The glass shatters in his hand.

“Oh, fuck!”

He goes to the sink, to clean his hands and throws the broken glass into the trash. Lucky there were only some minor cuts that don’t need stitches even if they hurt like a bitch.

Take that universe!

Still, he wraps them in bandages since he doesn’t fancy cleaning blood out of his sheets. Sleep, however, doesn’t come easily that night, and the time he doesn’t spend tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position to follow to try to fall back asleep in, he spends waking up from dreams that leave him feeling like he’s constantly falling, sharp terror waking him each and every time.

There is no rest for the wicked though, and so he takes off by late morning and goes to check o on the rest of the gang, makes sure Antony is running things smoothly. All in all, it’s pretty boring, with enough paperwork to make a bonfire, but it does the job of taking his mind out the things for a while. Patrol is uneventful, which is a welcome respite, and Jason doesn’t do much more than stop a few muggings and beating up some creeps.

During that time, he keeps an ear out for the bats, especially Dick since he’s not anywhere near the mood to listen to another of the boy wonder lectures about how “Damian is just a child; you shouldn’t take what he says seriously”, especially those came with the addition of being delivered in that tone that screamed, “even though he’s right”. But he must have gone back to his turf because he sees no hair nor hide of him or any of the others.

The next two nights are very much a repetition of that first one, with little sleep and little action, so much so that a paranoid and exhausted part of him gets a bit terrified and so he ends up calling Roy just to hear the genius talk about whatever crazy project he’s been working on lately. If the redhead has any idea why Jason is calling him at four in the morning, he doesn’t comment on it and simply talks until his friend's breath has even out.

This way when the sun comes up the next day, Jason drags himself out of bed and heads straight to the shower, the cold water helps ground him back into his body. Still feeling like shit but at least knowing the difference between dream and reality he eats his breakfast while checking his messages and it’s more than a little bit shocked to see a text from Bruce asking, as in there is an actual please in it if they can talk about a possible case with a few crossed wires. There’s even an invitation to stay for dinner alongside with it, which makes him wonder if Bruce hit his head a little too hard the other day, or if Alfred finally made good on his promise of finding a drug that made him less emotionally stunned.

No matter the cause, the message leaves him hopeful enough that he answers with a yeah, I’ll be there by five.

He arrives at the Manor door fifteen minutes past five, just in case, greeting Alfred with a smile that the old butler easily returns. They make some small talk as the older man demands him to at least drink a cup of tea before heading down. Still, they part at the entrance of the cave and Jason takes those final steps alone.

“Sup, old man?”

“Jason.” – Bruce answers, his back turned, typing at the bat computer, probably filling some reports.

“C’mon B, you’re the one who called me unless of course, you somehow have been possessed and that please was you asking for help, in which case, give me a second and let me call the Martian Manhunter, you gotta give a bit more of information.” – Jason kept his gaze on Bruce’s back, his breath steady, he was not rambling thank you very much!

“There been some talk about an escort service in Diamond District that works as a front from money laundering. I think you might know some of the girls.”

“Little bit out of my way. Maybe you should check with Cat.”

Bruce’s eyes were shining, and the line of his mouth meant that he was finding it funny and Jason was filed to the brim with a wave of warmth and nostalgia. It made him feel like a kid again, it made him like Robin again, like magic.

“Maybe we should.”

“Oh gross! Let’s go back to the ever-existing cases of corruption and gross old man please?”

“Isabella McGarvey”

“Know the surname. Any relation to Ophelia McGarvey?”

"Her older sister I believe, records show that she moved from the East Side two years ago but didn’t take her sister with her because she was a minor…"

Most of the afternoon passed that way. With the Batman and the Red Hood checking financial records, discussing disappearances and police reports in an amiable tone, full of teasing. It was a welcome change of pace being the one providing the answers to all-knowing Batman for once. So, he took his time explaining the inner workings and the shady dealings of the Alley, preening at the attention and the approval, something he would deny until his second dying day.

Perhaps the only dark spot in the otherwise bright day was the fact that Jason kept purposely having to avoid looking at the southeast corner of the cave, at the glass cage that seemed to hover over them.

Refusing to acknowledge that some part of Bruce would always believe he was dead

“There maybe be a loose end might be worth exploiting but I don’t know how long that window would be open: There was a shooting, a few days ago, near the Bowery and Robinsonville, no cameras, three dead, the assailant left no evidence behind.”

“Don’t know what to tell you Bats, last time I was there I was with your kids, didn’t hear anything, neither did mine. I mean, I could ask but this is Gotham, murders are pretty much the norm. Unless those guys are part of something bigger, I got you nothing.” - Jason shrugged, already calculating the possibilities of why this is relevant and coming out with nothing.

Damn all-knowing paranoid bat.

“They were. Trafficking ring. Middleman.”

“There is no trafficking ring in the Alley”.

Of that he’s certain.

“There is not. Because those men were killed before they could take anyone. But they were known for it, and they were asking the sort of questions that could ping on your radar.”

“Well, I haven’t heard anything. I’ll make sure to pay more attention, update some protocols.” – Jason answered, already planning to investigate it.

If they were acting as a middleman for someone roaming around then that someone would send more to scoop the territory out and he would be prepared when they came, regardless of what else could be there. There were no trafficking rings in Alley.

“Or maybe you did and decided to take care of it your own terms”

The abruptness of the question was so earth-shattering that he took a few steps back to regain his balance.

“Jesus Christ Bruce if are gonna accuse me of murder you could at least have the decency of start with that. No, I did not kill them. If any of mine did I haven’t heard of it. But as far as I’m concerned is no great loss.” - He succeeds at sounding nonchalant and enraged, hiding the fact that the question felt like a bucket of water, leaving his cold and shaking.

So, this is why Bruce actually called, so he could question Jason about his latest failure, his latest disappointment in Bruce’s eyes. Of course, it was, and he was a fool for ever thinking otherwise. For letting himself hope that Bruce was trying, that he wanted to rekindle the relationship they had when Jason still wore those green panties.

“Where were you at 2:30 in the morning, three nights ago?”

“What?”

Please god, everything but this. I can’t do this again

“At the time of the murder, where were you?

“In a dinner with your kids.” – Jason’s voice was nothing more than a whisper as if all the air had been pushed out of his lungs.

Why you don’t believe me? Why you don’t trust me?

“Damian said you left early, earlier than that, because he got home at 3:00. It takes at least half an hour to get here from there.

“Safehouse a few blocks away, then. Sleeping. Bruce, please”. – Jason was begging now, voice raw and full of hurt.

“Can you prove that?”

"The hell is wrong with you?!? I already told you: I. DID. NOT. KILL. THEM. When have I ever not taken credit for the people I’ve killed?"

“What’s going on?”

And of course, because his luck could not be worse, that was the Perfect Grayson coming down the stairs. He could feel the headache forming behind his eyes. He did not want to deal with this shit right now.

Was it too much to ask for the ground swallow him whole?

“Nothing! Bruce’s just spent the last five minutes pointlessly accusing of murder! Can you get the fuck out so we can continue discussing it?”

“You were near the scene of the crime, you have a motive, the means, and a history.”

“Wait you killed someone?”

“No! Keep up, Bruce is just being a dick, you know like you usually are.”

“Is a valid concern”

“Is a piece of shit that is what it is!”

“Can someone please explain?”

“Bruce thinks I killed three people after I left the dinner the other day.”

That what you did after you left? It’s that what you meant by shooting kneecaps? Jay… I know that you were angry but this…

“Jesus Fucking Christ Didn’t I just say its bullshit?”

“You said that?”

“It was a joke”

“You have motive, means, no alibi and now your brother is telling me that you left because you needed to shoot someone. What do you want me to believe?”

“THAT I WOULDN’T LIE ABOUT IT!”

“If you were planning only to main them, if your anger got the better out you, as it has before if you did it out impulse, and is trying yo hide it.”

“You know what Bruce? You’ve already made up your mind so I will do us all a favor and get myself out. You can’t trust me? Well, I can’t trust you. From now on there will be no bats at the East End. If you are seen, you will be shot. That’s how trigger happy I fucking am!”

He pushed passed Dick and Bruce, the world was tingled with pit green glow, his ears were roaring, no sound, only rage, and loss. Every step he took was calculated, his breath was short, measured. A of violence ready to blow up at the mere provocation held together only by the barest threads of sanity and humanity and the training Ducra had given him. Roy’s voice babbling at him. Kori’s booming laughter. Kyle ridiculous art. Donna’s everlasting sass and warmth.

Somehow, someway he made home without turning Gotham into a bloodbath, and the relative he felt at activating the security protocol was fastly overtaken by fear. He hadn’t had an attack like that in over three months. Hadn’t let the Pit burning so strong in his veins in so long. Hadn’t felt that disconnection to reality since his early days out of the Pit.

Just the idea of what could have happened in case he lost control made Jason grab the nearest bucket and puke. He stayed there, pressing the palm of hinds to his eyes, heaving.

It didn’t matter, because it didn’t happen.

His phone rang, and if it was anybody else calling, he let go straight to voicemail, but it was Talia’s ringtone and she didn't call jus for kicks, so he presses answer.

“If I told you I didn’t kill a man would you believe me?” – Jason blurts out before he can stop himself, red coloring his cheeks as he realizes what he just said, cursing himself for his stupidity.

“Of course. Why would…I see.” – Talia’s face goes from neutral to confusion and finally anger in a matter of seconds. – “Your father does not know you at all Habibi, and that, rest assured, is entirely his fault. He’s too caught up in the image he made of you to be able to see you as truly are.”

“Batman being a stunned idiot, who can look past his own reasoning of the world? What an earthshattering idea T! – Jason says sarcastically trying to cover up his earlier emotional outburst. - Anyway, got a reason for calling?

“Do not play coy with me, Jason, it’s unbecoming. Regardless, I do not believe Gotham has done you good. Moreover, I do not believe your father's actions towards you have been in any way helpful to your recovery and growth.”

“What are you? My therapist?”

“I would not be against for you to see one, but I would not force you either. Your choices, as always, must be your own. Besides is my understanding that to be effective therapy must also involve privacy. Another thing that its unlikely to come by if you are to remain here.

“Gotham needs me. The Alley needs me, God knows the Bat can’t handle this shit, they don’t care and even if they did the Alley would never trust them” – It wasn’t as much a rebuttal as it was an excuse

“They do, but you are of no use to them if you are constantly emotionally compromised by the rash and thoughtless actions of those who do not understand you and do not seek to. Loyalty is a gift that must be not be given lightly and they make ill use of yours while reaping the benefits of it. Perhaps it’s time for them to learn how to much you do for them. The absence does make the heart grow fonder.”

“You’re telling me to leave.”

“I’m telling take a step back. You’ve done tremendous work, but there’s more to you then violence. The petty criminals and drug dealers and the pimps are all properly terrified, your minions are capable enough that they can keep your operation running without your direct involvement. Rest. Recover. Come back when you are ready. Besides, you do have your master’s degree to consider, don’t you?” - Jason blushed, Talia wasn’t one to give compliments that she didn’t mean, and she did have a point, but…

But what? What did he truly have here? It had taken less than ten minutes for Dick convince Bruce, based on nothing more than a few throw away words Jason had said when he was angry and hurting, that Jason had killed a man and once that decision had been made no amount of evidence would make Bruce turn around in his favor. The others probably already knew what had happened and just as likely had decided to stay away from him from now on. After all, if he couldn’t take a little teasing without blasting someone’s brains out then he was certainly no better than the crazies in Arkham, to them.

What Talia was offering has the peace of taking a walk without being judged by the path he chooses to walk on, let the dust stele until bygones were bygones and he could look at Dick’s- Holier-Than-Thou face without breaking every single bone in it.

What did he have to lose that he couldn’t take back later on?

“You do realize that this will take quite a bit of work and resources, right? – Jason could almost see that pleased little smile of hers spread on Talia’s face.

“You do realize who you are speaking with don’t you Habibi? Let’s get to work.

#first chapter #Criminal Minds #Jason Todd #fanfic #Im so nervous #Go check on AO3'#Im sorry for the delay #Spoiler: Jason is a Sad Boy in this #But he'll get better #Xover #Spencer Reid shows up in the next chapter #Worry not #im very proud of myself #ive written

23 notes · View notes

mcgrillzdumpinc · 4 years

Text

Further Ahead - a Madame Lan fic

Summary: Lan Chunhua became wife to Qingheng-jun through no will of her own. She bore his children and held her own against the strict Lan sect. In her time spent in the Gentian House, she planned an escape that would allow her to leave with her sons. Little did she know that she would find herself thirty years into the future.

Word count: 5517

Rating: T

ao3 link

Inspired by an idea from fallenwithstyle!

She wakes up with a gasp. Ripples of energy pulse through her body, unyielding and nauseating. She nearly falls over, catches herself with her hands, resists the urge to empty her stomach as she breathes and calculates and settles herself.

Did it work?

She looks around the room. It is almost the same as the one she started in. Spacious, barely decorated, every bit a Lan house. Except the flowers are different. Instead of spring annuals, there are winter flowers in the vases. A light coat of dust covers every surface. Her working desk is empty of any of her documents.

The ritual worked.

~~~

Fu Chunhua was just past seventeen years of age when she decided to visit Caiyi Town. She had heard many things about Gusu, about the canals and the resplendent beauty of the Lan sect. As a rogue cultivator from a border town far north, she carried little care for a monastic order turned cultivation sect. Her interests lay purely in travel, in the ways she could help as a singular woman, values that had been passed to her by her late parents. So she joined a caravan of merchants on the promise of pay for her protection of them.

In some stories, she would have felt dread upon entering Caiyi. Something would have told her to turn away. But this is no such story. Nothing was amiss during her few days stay. She rested, stocked up on her supplies, and was about to leave for another destination when she collided with a young man.

He was a fine young thing, even when disheveled upon the ground. He truly appeared like a being made out of finest of jade, ethereal like falling snow and more beautiful than the rising sun. Like the moon had blessed him and his stark white robes.

“Are you hurt?” he immediately asked, scrambling to his feet to help her up.

“I am uninjured,” she replied as she took his hands.

“I apologize for not seeing you sooner,” the stranger said, releasing her hands to bow to her. “And…forgive me for asking so soon, but what is your name, young madame?” he asked her. There were stars forming in his dark brown eyes.

Fu Chunhua knew this dance. A young man, struck by her loveliness, jumping to conclusions within seconds of knowing her. It had happened so many times before, and she expected it would happen so many times again. She introduced herself, and he introduced himself in turn. Qingheng-jun, they called him. Lan Guoliang, sect leader of the Gusu Lan.

“I didn’t expect I would be meeting an esteemed sect leader on this day,” Fu Chunhua said, even though she was ready to leave. She couldn’t be rude to someone of such high status, especially in his own territory.

“It must be an auspicious day,” Lan Guoliang replied, “since I am meeting a beauty such as yourself.”

“Ah… I am not so beautiful, Qingheng-jun. I am certain there are much more resplendent beauties within your sect.”

“But none who can match you.”

“…Thank you. If you’ll forgive my absence, I must hurry to my next location.”

Then she tried to leave. She was successful, for a time. She managed to reach the city gates, was about to mount her sword, was about to escape yet another hopeless romantic, when suddenly Qingheng-jun grabbed her by her arm.

“I am so sorry, Fu-xiaojie. I am stubborn to a fault. Please offer me a chance to prove myself.”

The persistent type, then. Well, nothing she hadn’t handled before. She offered for him to join her on a night hunt. So many had lost interest once they saw her fighting style—barbaric, they called it. In truth, they could not imagine a woman stronger than them, one who could hold her own against a hundred beasts and not care for the blood spilt on her robes. She doubted this Lan Guoliang would be any different.

Except, he would. After the monster was vanquished, she found herself stone still before the bowing young man, who begged for her hand. ‘Love at first sight,’ he called it. ‘A love made for the gods,’ he claimed. He called her the perfect wife for him, without once asking if she cared a drop for him.

She refused. Of course she did. Without a thought towards his heartbroken tears, Fu Chunhua mounted her sword and left him behind. That should have been the last of it. Nobody in their right mind would chase such a harsh woman.

She should have known, though. She really should have known.

He found her less than a month later. Another town, not far from Gusu but closer to Yunmeng territory. She could easily chalk it up to coincidence. There was significant ghost activity, enough to warrant the attention of a major cultivation sect. But she still kept her distance, best she could, even though he would search her out in crowds and kept close during night hunts. She could tolerate it. Just until the all ghosts were vanquished. Then maybe she would visit lands outside of imperial bounds. For a year, at the very least. Surely he would lose interest by then.

But she would not get the chance to escape. One night, the cultivators that had gathered agreed to split up, take up investigation on their own terms and then reconvene by dawn. They all had signal flares on hand in case they ran into trouble. Fu Chunhua took her own route, as she was wont to do. The silence of the woods was a welcome respite. So welcome, in fact, that she failed to notice her company.

The man who had followed her was a Lan, but was not Qingheng-jun. He was one of Lan Guoliang’s teachers, apparently. Lan Lijun. A much older fellow, not nearly as strong as his pupil or even Fu Chunhua. But he was gentler than a spring breeze in the way he spoke. Sweeter than a plum in the way he carried himself. So all her walls were down when he drew his sword on her.

He called her a curse. A temptation that drew Qingheng-jun from his studies, from his duties as a righteous sect leader. As the old man shouted and slashed, he made it blindingly clear that nothing short of her death would serve to save Qingheng-jun from the plight of her mere existence.

Fu Chunhua fought back. Fu Chunhua killed the old man. Fu Chunhua did the right thing and turned herself in.

Then she became Lan Chunhua. Married to protect her life. Kept captive in a scenic prison. When her husband came to her, she surrendered. She allowed him her body, however long or often he wanted. Despite how much she cried, or how much she ached for any form of freedom, she did not kill the spawn of their union. Not the first, nor the second. She did not fight when they took the children from her. She did not argue for the right to see them more often. She mothered from a distance, paid her wifely dues, and planned her escape in secret.

There was a maid. A young, bright thing. Lan Meilin. Besides Xichen and Wangji, Lan Meilin was the brightest part of Lan Chunhua’s poor excuse for a life. She was not like most Lans—her voice was always an octave too loud, her posture slacked when no one was looking, she actually talked to Lan Chunhua for more than necessity. When she could get permission, they would talk about everything and nothing for hours into the night. She was a wonder. And she was more than willing to help Lan Chunhua. In fact, the escape plan was hers and hers alone.

“You’re quite a skilled cultivator, aren’t you, Lan-furen?”

“My older brother gained access to the secret rooms in the Library Pavilion! There are all sorts of techniques stashed there! Shhh, but don’t tell anyone I told you, okay? He only told me because I wouldn’t stop pestering him!”

“Lan-furen… my brother found research on time travel. I don’t know how to tell him not to think too much into it. It’s impossible, right?”

“Lan-furen. This may not be for me to speak of… But I heard of a story, recently. A captive woman who found freedom. They say a dragon saved her. Others say she rescued herself. Would you like to hear the story?”

“Lan-furen… I’m sorry to scare you, I know it’s late. But I’m sure it won’t be long until they find out. I snuck into the Library Pavilion. I copied down everything I could about transportation, even those studies on time travel. Please, use them. It is the last thing this young fool will be able to do for you.”

Lan Chunhua did not hear a thing about Lan Meilin after that night. Any questions were met with silence and avoidance. Dead, alive, punished—she would never know her maid’s fate. But there was one truth she could know, and that was how to leave her cage.

But she couldn’t leave without her sons. Regardless of their parentage, Xichen and Wangji were her little treasures. Xichen with his unrelenting kindness and emotional insight. Wangji with his hilariously withdrawn nature and stubborn loyalty. She couldn’t leave them behind, not for the world and all its riches.

But there was no transportation talisman that would allow her to transport all three of them, not without giving up her whole golden core and perhaps even her life. And there was no guarantee they would go with her, or that they wouldn’t be caught. The only way was forward. The only way was forward.

So she took the way forward. She studied and experimented and improved. And then, one night, it wasn’t a flower or a vial that was put in the middle of the array. It was her, and she was ready.

~~~

Now the only trouble is moving. Much as Lan Chunhua tries, she cannot find her footing, let alone sit up. The best she can do is drag herself by her arms. But that will not get her anywhere quick, least of all surreptitiously.

So focused she is on gathering her strength at least enough to hide herself, she does not notice that company has arrived on her doorstep. She’s a far distance from the closest adjoining room when the door to her cottage opens. Her guest is a young man, much to her surprise. Has so much time passed that the Lan sect has done away with separation of sexes? She doubts it—an entire century could pass before a single elder would consider altering a single rule. What’s more, despite the blue and white Lan robes the young man wears, he isn’t wearing a headband. The only decoration to his hair is a bright red ribbon. A guest cultivator, then. One that is doubtlessly trespassing.

Well, if she needed someone who wouldn’t dare to cause a ruckus and would have good reason to be furtive, she certainly wouldn’t be able to find someone better than him.

“You!” she exclaims, pointing at him.

He furrows his brows, pointing at himself. His back bends with the motion. “Me…?”

“You will help me!” she commands, dragging herself however lamely in his direction.

He raises his hands and takes a step back. “I don’t know how much help I could be. Who are you, anyway? What are you doing in Lan-furen’s quarters?”

“I can ask you the same thing.”

A quip is on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it and reconsiders. A tilt of his head to the left, then the right, then he says, “That’s fair. Here, let’s start with introductions, then! My name is Wei Wuxian, husband to the standing sect leader, Lan Wangji.”

Lan Wangi! Her stoic, warm, darling Wangji, married? To a man who carries himself like he has the sun at his back! Lan Chunhua must restrain the tears that prick at her eyes. She has so many questions and just as many felicitations to wish, but there is time yet for those. Surely, the appearance of her Wangji’s husband as her savior must be the will of the heavens.

“And you are?” Wei Wuxian asks with a welcoming, close-lipped smile.

“…Lan Chunhua,” she answers truthfully. “Your husband’s mother. Please, if you can—” Before she can finish her sentence, an implication catches her. And it settles in her like a tiger’s maw on her heart. “You said standing sect leader… What happened to Lan Huan? Lan Xichen? What has happened to my son, nuzu?”

He blinks at her, face and shoulders and arms falling like weights are attached to his skin. “You…? Lan Zhan’s mother? That’s not possible!”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. There’s much more pressing matters at hand. “You do not have to believe me when I say I traveled through time. But I assure you, I am very much A-Zhan’s mother. Do you need me to prove it? Check all you like, but you must bring me to my children.”

“I—” He looks around, finger pointed upwards at nothing in particular. “Hold on!”

He runs rather fast, she has to say. If worry for her Xichen wasn’t weighing on her so heavily, she might just laugh at the character her Wangji decided to marry. He must be so terribly happy, she realizes with a wistful sigh.

~~~

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan!”

Normally, Wei Wuxian wouldn’t interrupt training, least of all when his wonderful husband is the teacher of the day. Lan Wangi has more than enough troubles on his mind, as Wei Wuxian often has to remind him when sect leader duties leave him weary to the bone. As his husband (and as part of proving that he’s ‘rehabilitated’, as Nie Huaisang likes to call it), Wei Wuxian does what he can to keep the Cloud Recesses running. Repairs and construction jobs, maintaining some trade negotiations, entertaining the more restless of the disciples—Wei Wuxian does what he can to lighten the load.

That’s why, today, he snuck into the late Lan-furen’s quarters. He was hoping to find something to brighten Lan Wangji’s mood, which has been truly dismal ever since Lan Xichen started turning away his own brother. What he found instead, well, he can only hope it will turn out for the better.

He jumps towards Lan Wangji. Without even looking away from the disciples, Lan Wangji catches him with one arm. “Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats, circling his arms around his husband’s neck, “I have something important to show you! It can’t wait!”

Lan Wangi glances at him with the slightest hint of a smile. He calls over a nearby senior disciple to take over then walks the same direction Wei Wuxian came. Wei Wuxian has to kick his legs to convince Lan Wangji to let him down, but he keeps a hand against his husband’s back as they walk together.

“So,” Wei Wuxian starts, “I came across a big surprise today.”

“What is it?” Lan Wangji asks, smiling down at him indulgently.

“Guess!” Wei Wuxian replies with doe eyes.

Lan Wangji considers for a long time. They’re already nearing the Gentian House when he replies, “You found a mate for Lil’ Apple?”

Wei Wuxian snorts. “Is that the best you could come up with?! So unimaginative, Lan-er-gege.”

A familiar hunger ignites in Lan Wangji’s eyes. Before he can be pulled aside for some truly ancestor-shaming activities, Wei Wuxian grabs his husband’s wrist and pulls him to their destination. “No, it’s something much more dramatic.” They reach the steps and Lan Wangji’s posture shifts immediately—shoulders tense, eyes focused. Wei Wuxian slides his hand down to intertwine his fingers with Lan Wangji’s. “I know I’m not allowed here, but I wanted to find a present for you. But I found something else. There’s a woman in there, she claims to be your mother.”

Immediately, Lan Wangji’s eyes widen. He looks between Wei Wuxian, then to the entrance door. Back to Wei Wuxian, then he very nearly runs inside.

~~~

The doors open with force. Lan Chunhua looks up. There’s another man standing in the entryway and he looks so much like Qingheng-jun that she nearly throws a vase at him. But quickly she realizes his eyes match hers—golden. He is slimmer than his father, his face more delicate in features, and she recognizes those heavy set of brows that pull his expressions into stone.

“A-Zhan!” she cries. She reaches out her arms, begging, desperate, joyful. “Mama,” he replies as he sinks into her embrace. His voice is so much deeper now, his arms can wrap around her entire torso now, he’s so much stronger now. But there is gentleness and anxiety in his hug, like when he was a child and feared the second he would be taken from her. She holds him all the tighter for it.

“I’m so sorry, my darling. Please forgive your Mama for disappearing from you.”

There is a wetness pooling on her shoulder. She cards her fingers through his hair, lets him cry without acknowledgment, as she looks up at her savior, Wei Wuxian. ‘Thank you’, she mouths to him, and he smiles and bows in return.

“Why did you go…?” she hears her son mutter.

She shushes him and begins to rock side to side, just as he liked as a child. “I had to leave, baobei. A bird cannot survive for long in a cage.”

He seems to take that for a satisfactory answer. Wei Wuxian closes the doors and settles to Wangji’s right. His eyes are trained entirely on Wangji, a loving warmth in his smile, and Lan Chunhua once again finds herself thankful that her son found such a perfect husband.

Lan Chunhua does not realize she fell asleep in her Wangji’s hold until she comes to in his lap. The sunlight filtering through the windows is a deep orange—the afternoon has come and gone and the dusk is nearly upon them.

“It seems I must apologize to you again, A-Zhan. I was more tired than I realized.”

“Mn,” is his reply. Lan Chunhua nearly laughs at the familiarity. “You were low on spiritual power. Wei Ying is working on getting you food now.”

She looks down at where Wangji’s fingers are pressed to her wrist pulse. “You must have cultivated a truly strong golden core to feed me for so long. Thank you, baobei.”

The tips of his ears turn pink. This time, she does laugh.

“Oh, don’t be so shy!” She reaches up and pats his cheek twice. “So many years, and you’re still the same.”

“…I am not the same,” he argues, somewhat lamely.

Lan Chunhua laughs again. “I guess you are right. I certainly could not imagine my little A-Zhan marrying such a lively man.” She sits up and catches his smile. “Tell me, A-Zhan, how did you meet him?”

“We met during the yearly lessons. He was a nuisance.”

“That’s what drew you to him, isn’t it? You always loved the brightest things. What sect did he belong to?”

Something unpleasant crosses Wangji’s expression, but it quickly dissipates. “The Yunmeng Jiang. He was their head disciple.”

Lan Chunhua’s memories of the Yunmeng Jiang are few. She never lingered anywhere long enough to meet most of the cultivation world’s sect leaders, so the majority of her memories from Yunmeng are of the territory itself and not the sect that called it home. But she can recall seeing Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan on a few night hunts. One was too placid, the other too fiery. She cannot imagine their head disciple would have lived in a pleasant environment.

“Is he happy here?” she asks as she takes her son’s hand. “This sect does not stifle him?”

“Nobody can stifle him,” Wangji answers, threading his long fingers with hers. “I would not let them. He can only be happy.”

So her son has become the type who would sooner break the world than let his loved one suffer. “I am proud of you. I left you so early but still you became such a good man.”

He smiles. “I am glad you have returned. I have missed you.”

The door opens. Wei Wuxian has arrived with dinner for all three of them. She dare not think of how he must have wheedled so much food from the chefs, let alone managed to transport all of it to her house without being noticed. She can only be thankful for his incredible sense of timing, for she’s certain she would have fallen asleep again if he had taken another minute.

They eat steadily and quietly. Shamelessly, Wangji and Wei Wuxian sit glued to each other’s side. Lan Chunhua decides to not comment and waits until they finish dinner to answer their questions about how she traveled. Then, she asks something that has been buzzing persistently at the back of her mind.

“A-Zhan, tell me about A-Huan. Wuxian called you the standing sect leader… What happened to A-Huan? Shouldn’t he be the sect leader? Or…” She steels herself for this thought, “is your father still breathing, while A-Huan is not?”

A chill sweeps through the room. Before her nerves can jump to the worst conclusion, Wei Wuxian answers. “Qingheng-jun passed away many years ago. Your son, Lan Xichen, became sect leader. He was very capable and truly an exemplary sect leader, but…”

“Tragedy struck him,” Wangji continues. He does not meet Lan Chunhua’s eyes as he says, “A friend betrayed him and killed someone he cared deeply for. Brother has gone into seclusion while I handle the sect in his stead.”

The irony does not go unnoticed. The story is so similar to her own circumstances, at least in summary. She knows well that Lan Qiren ran the sect while his brother secluded himself. She knows well that her first son might be following in his father’s footsteps despite her best wishes.

“It is best you hear the story from him,” Wangji finishes. “Will you meet with him tonight?”

~~~

As usual, the Cloud Recesses falls into an almost complete slumber at nine that night. They wait an extra thirty minutes before leaving the cabin and hurrying to Lan Huan’s quarters.

Before going in, however, Wangji pulls Lan Chunhua aside while Wei Wuxian keeps a lookout. “He is not well, mother. He has begun to turn everyone away. Please do not judge him if he is harsh to you.”

Lan Chunhua cups her youngest son’s cheek, rubbing away his worry with her thumb. “I could never judge him, A-Zhan. He is my firstborn.”

Wangji nods, minutely, before hugging her. He lets go before she can return the embrace. Then he hurries inside to wake his brother. She gives Wei Wuxian a squeeze to the arm as thanks before following Wangji inside.

Xichen’s quarters are spacious, much more than her own. It occurs to her that these must have been his father’s, but she does not see a touch of Qingheng-jun anywhere. All of Xichen’s favorite things—instruments, books of poetry, scrolls of art, among other things—dot the walls. She sees his work desk, where a xiao she recognizes as Liebing sits. Worryingly, on the desk as well are several unclean dishes, as though he had failed to bring them to his door to be taken away by the servants. Or, worse, has refused to let anyone move for him. Before she can follow the instinct to clean them up, she hears Wangji wake his brother farther into the room. She moves towards her youngest son’s voice into a partitioned-off part of the room, behind which lays a bed.

The area here is in a much worse state than the rest of his quarters. Where everything else was mostly clean, here paper is strewn across the floor. Even in the dim light, she can see sword slashes on the mat. The bed is in equal disarray and the man who sits upon it has lost any light in his eyes.

Lan Chunhua’s stomach sinks. Her son did not become his father. Rather, he became her.

“Brother,” Wangji begins, “I am sorry for waking you, but someone important has come to see us.”

Xichen rubs at his eyes, chasing away the last of his sleep with a yawn. “Who is it, Wangji?”

Lan Chunhua holds her breath when her firstborn looks up and meets her eyes. Silence engulfs the room, suffocating in its stillness. She is thankful when he speaks.

“…Mother?” he whispers. He leaves the bed, stumbles just slightly, and creeps towards her. He reaches out his hand, stops himself just short of her face.

“I am real, A-Huan,” she promises. “I am real.”

He cups her cheek. His hand is large enough to cover her entire face. She holds his arm with both her hands, leans into the touch. “Why are you here? You are supposed to be dead.”

“She traveled,” Wangji explains in her stead. He walks over to her left side and stares, quite intensely, at her. Deliberating, Lan Chunhua realizes after a second. “She never died.”

“How?” Xichen immediately asks without breaking eye contact with her. Then, as though a string finally broke, tears begin to fall from his eyes, quickly and without any restraint as his face scrunches up. He curls into himself, curls over her, and Lan Chunhua is quick to pull him to her, hugging her son who is now twice her size. “Why weren’t you here?” he asks through a broken voice.

“I couldn’t stay,” she answers again. She traces the tips of her fingernails up and down his back, creating patterns for his nerves to follow. “A tiger belongs in the wild.”

Xichen grips her, tight, almost enough to hurt. Wangji, apparently done deliberating, pulls them both into a hug.

“Why weren’t you here sooner?” Xichen asks. “You should have been here sooner.”

“I know,” Lan Chunhua replies. She holds him tighter. “I wish I had come back sooner.” She sighs, threads her fingers into his hair to cup the back of his head. “You both grew up without me. I am ashamed to call myself your mother when I failed to raise you.”

“Do not,” Wangji interrupts. He rests his cheek on top of her head. “You are here now. That is what matters most.”

That statement alone fills her chest with warmth. “Thank you, my son. I am here now, and I have no intention of leaving you again.”

Xichen breaks into a wail. He begins to fall, and both she and Wangji steadily sink to the ground with him. Xichen shifts his grip so he has a hand on Wangji’s waist while the other is pressed against Lan Chunhua’s back. “I have made so many mistakes. I am ashamed to call myself your son!”

Lan Chunhua shushes him. “Breathe first, A-Huan. Breathe first, then think.”

He follows her instructions. It takes several starts and stops and more than one instance of pulling him back when he tries to pull away. But he gets there, eventually. By then, Wangji has had to take a break outside, only to return some minutes later with Wei Wuxian in tow.

Now the four of them are sitting at Xichen’s working desk. Wei Wuxian has prepared tea while Wangji works on cleaning up his elder brother’s face. Xichen sits opposite Lan Chunhua, cradling his cup of tea and leaning into the warmth.

“…I must apologize for my earlier state,” Xichen starts. “I should have greeted you with more composure.”

Lan Chunhua clicks her tongue. “There is no such thing as composure around your mother,” she scolds. “You could have come to me with the air of a god and I would still see my little A-Huan.”

He smiles, just slightly, at that. She hears Wei Wuxian snicker. Wangji starts to undo his brother’s sleeping braid as Xichen continues speaking. “Even still…” He pauses, putting his words in order. “Despite my earlier discomposure, I must admit there was some truth to my words.” He meets Lan Chunhua’s eyes with intensity. “Why are you here now, mother?”

“I do not know,” she admits easily. “The array I used was purely experimental. I had hoped I would skip to when you and A-Zhan were at least ten years old, just old enough to escape with me. You were too young when I put the array to use. I did not expect I would return when you were adults.”

Xichen tightens his grip on his teacup. Wangji starts to comb his brother’s hair. “So it was an escape plan, then.” There are more words on his tongue, Lan Chunhua can tell, by the way he swallows and carefully puts his teacup down. He hasn’t taken a sip of tea.

“I do not plan to leave now,” she tells him. “You both have your places here—”

“So you will leave us behind again?” Xichen interrupts.

“Brother,” Wangji gently scolds. He stops combing in order to rub a hand up and down Xichen’s back. Wei Wuxian shifts so that he is sitting closer to his husband.

“I know,” Xichen responds. “I know…” A deep breath, and he crumples into himself again.

“…You’ve been hurt,” Lan Chunhua observes. “Quite deeply, it seems.”

“I have,” Xichen says. “There… There were two men I cared deeply for.” He grabs the teacup again, quickly empties it. Wei Wuxian immediately refills it. Xichen bends over the heat. “They held my heart in equal amounts. But I did not believe one, while I blindly believed the other. It cost many, many lives, including both of their own. In your absence, I have failed so many.”

She realizes something in the hunch of his shoulders. “Do you expect me to scold you? Hate you?”

His silence is all the answer she needs.

“A-Huan,” she reproaches. “I could never hate you. Look at me.”

With much reluctance, he complies. Wangji begins to redo his sleeping braid.

“You were my firstborn. There were many before you who did not make it. To me, you are a precious existence. You could fall into the deepest depths of sin and still I would love you. That is my duty and my joy as your mother. And never again shall I abandon you and your brother. I am here to stay.”

“Mother…” Xichen whispers. He and his brother share the same teary eyes.

With no more time she is willing to waste, Lan Chunhua stands up and crosses to the other side of the table. She pulls her sons of blood and marriage into a hug, holding them all as tight as her small arms will allow.

“I will stay here,” she promises. “For as long as the heavens allow.”

~~~

It takes another year for Xichen to leave seclusion. Time, Lan Chunhua must remind Wangji and Wuxian, he needs to take his time. But on the meritorious day he announces his seclusion done, Xichen looks ten times stronger than the night of their reunion. Lan Chunhua is there to greet her son and sect leader with a smile.

The period of her readjustment and reintroduction is not an easy one. The elders still remember her, still scream for her banishment just as strongly as the day Qingheng-jun brought her here. But her sons protect her and vouch for her. To her great surprise, Lan Qiren eventually, though reluctantly, takes her side as well. “The boys have suffered enough,” he tells her in private. “I would not take their happiness from them again.”

What comes as the biggest surprise is meeting Wangji and Wuxian’s son. Lan Sizhui is a perfect angel with a backbone to rival his fathers’. He comes a set pair, as well, apparently. Lan Chunhua rarely sees him without his friend, Lan Jingyi, who is truly the loudest and most boisterous boy the Lans could have possibly produced. Lan Chunhua loves them both instantly. And it comes as little surprise to her, in the end, when she finally learns who Jingyi’s mother is.

(“Lan-furen, it is a pleasure to see you again. No words can describe the joy of knowing our plan worked.”)

Lan Chunhua learns in time of Wuxian’s past transgressions. Through that, she learns of the men who broke Xichen’s heart in three. She aches relentlessly for them both. And when finally she meets Wen Ning, she is sure to gift him with robes she crafted herself.

There are days still when her bones ache for her to run. Escape the Lans, escape Gusu, escape to the border town she once called home. Sometimes she catches glares that make her wish to scream. But she settles herself in her new home, far from the gentians, attended upon by those Wangji ensured would not hurt her. She will travel again one day, she is sure. A dragon must soar, unbidden by earthly needs. But, for now, this is enough. Seeing her sons smile again is more than enough.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #lan wangji #wei wuxian #madame lan #wwx #lwj #lxc #sometimes i write

3 notes · View notes

dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

Text

Dragon Dancer IV: Paranoia

The bright light of day shined in a halo around the black out curtains by the time I opened my eyes. I’d never been so exhausted.

After studying Herzog’s documents through the night, we’d decided to stop at a 24hour Ramen shop at 3 am. Then at 4 am, we came under a subversive attack.

The Academy had tricked Crow into playing a recording on the public broadcast system. On the surface, it seemed like it was a generic PSA to help convince Nono go home to her father. Deep within the audio, however, was the sound of Herzog’s clapper.

Lu Mingfei completely lost his mind and went into a draconized state. They’d fired every sort ammunition and rocket and missile at him from a helicopter, but he somehow survived long enough to get back to the warehouse where we’d been hiding out.

An agent, who turned out to be my friend Susie, followed us there and in the ensuing fight, I’d slashed open a canister of kerosene. Chu Zihang joined in the battle, flicked a lighter and set it on fire.

We’d managed to escape all of that. But by that time, the sun was coming up and we were three bloody foreigners, one of them a naked injured man, out in broad daylight.

Who should come to our rescue but the same familiar face who had brought me to the Takamagahara a year ago.

Su Enxi.

A year ago, this friend of Lu Mingfei’s saved us when I had teleported from the wreckage of the Trieste. Kaguya and the Japanese Executive department had us on the run. Johann was dying from the ravages of his own dragonblood and needed treatment, but an attack by a gang drove us from our hide out.

There in the street, where Johann lay, she pulled up in a van and demanded we get inside.

So I got a sense of deja vu, when once again, she opened the door to a large SUV and peered out at us, her blonde hair spilling over her thin shoulders, and asked if we needed a lift.

She didn’t take us back to the Takamagahara, however, but to the love hotel that Lu Mingfei said he’d stayed with Erii.

They had bought the place and were running it.

Why Lu Mingfei had such rich people following him around was as big of a mystery as why he turned into a dragon at the sound of percussion.

I sighed, and let out a weak moan, testing out my voice. The toxin that Susie had used on me was temporary, thankfully. My voice was still a bit weak, but I no longer choked every time I wanted to open my mouth and say something.

I sat up and moved to the edge of the King Size heart shaped bed. They didn’t keep cribs here, but Ru’Yi was happy to sleep on the floor. It was the longest sleep she’d had and I didn’t blame her. Her eyes were closed, her little belly rising up and down. I smiled.

I checked the clock to find it was 5 pm. I’d just woken up and the day was almost over.

I dialed Nono’s room. She picked up.

“Yes?”

“Hey, it’s me Carli. How’s Mingfei?”

“He woke up this morning, but passed back out again. But he’s healing. He’s regained movement in his arms. It’s just painful.”

“And Zihang?”

“He’s asleep still. Can I talk to you about him, for just a moment?”

“Sure!”

“What are you going to do if he never turns back into the man you remember?”

I sighed wearily. “I can’t think that way, Nono. I have to keep believing this will turn out. I can’t lose hope.”

“I understand how you feel. But I also agree with something Susie said.”

“What was it?”

“You need to think about your daughter.”

I exhaled and leaned against the headboard.

Nono continued. “This is getting too serious. I understand why you ran from the Academy but... this is going to get more and more difficult. We can’t be worrying about things like diapers.”

I laughed a little. “Yeah... What do you suggest?”

“Stay here with Crow. There’s this place to hide out. And also the Shrine.”

“What about Zihang?”

“You trusted Mingfei to find him before right? And he did find him. Trust him to finish the job.”

I was silent for a few seconds. “Okay...”

I hung up the phone and looked up at the gaudy mirrored ceiling. My mind went back to the scene in the warehouse. Johann Chu had just been watching the fight between Nono and Susie, until Nono dove into a hailstorm of black iron daggers. Then he picked up a bookcase full of thick heavy books and heaved it over to keep them from killing Nono.

I paused and rewound that scene in my head.

No one in their right mind would think such a feat were possible for anyone, much less for themselves... and even less if they thought they were a fifteen year old kid as Johann supposedly did.

What possessed him to believe that he could haul off and fling a heavy object like that?

I imagined a fast forward button, remembering his fight with Susie.

The way he fought was with a killer’s eye. He’d wasted no movement on disabling attacks. Had Susie been a little slower, he would have gutted her. He was aiming to kill. Does a 15 year old study at a children’s dojo to learn to kill?

My conclusion was no.

I sat up a little straighter.

The idea of his suddenly knowing he could chuck a bookcase after forgetting everything else was further evidence that the theory of time travel was wrong. Johann hadn’t gone back in time and made the decision to stay in Nibelungen. Then why couldn’t he remember me and Mingfei?

I pounded my fist into my palm.

The same reason no one else could remember him! The same Soul Skill that prevented people from remembering him kept him from remembering us!

But Toyama’s gentle question lingered. “So this dragon is deceiving everyone but us? Why?” I asked out loud. I leaned my face in my hands. “Why?”

Whoever did this must know us and Johann Chu. To pick us out of the millions of people on Earth to deliberately allow us to remember Chu Zihang and then modify Chu Zihang’s memories so that he thought he turned around to save his father. But this was a false memory. He forgot me and Ru’Yi and Cassell and dragons and thought he was in the Nibelungen since 15. But he didn’t actually remember being there!

Whoever did this knew who Chu Zihang was! He knew who we were!

“What does it want? Why do this?” I whispered through my teeth, holding my head.

A thin whimper brought me out of my circling thoughts. I rushed to scoop up Ru’Yi before she could feel the slightest bit of fear and held her close to me to feed her. No doubt she would be starving after such a long sleep.

I settled her against me and looked down into her eyes. She looked directly back at me, reading my face a moment but then her eyes unfocused as the milk began to flow and sating her hunger became top priority.

My mind continued to pick through what I knew. This time I rewound all the way back to the beginning.

Shortly after Mingfei’s return, the Dragon Skeletons were stolen and the blame was pinned on Mingfei. Surely this was related. I knew that dragons devoured their own kind in order to attain more power. Was all this just to get those skeletons?

It may seem overkill but with a dragon skeleton to devour, a dragon could attain god-level powers.

But it still didn’t explain: Why target Mingfei?

The images of the woodblock flashed through my head. There was only one person who knew to use that woodblock and I’d said his name.

Herzog.

Mingfei was the person who had defeated him. If he had a second chance, surely, he would go after Mingfei first.

“Crow said he got that video from the Academy? Who at Cassell knew to use the woodblock to provoke that reaction?!” I hissed. “Someone associated with ... Herzog...”

My heart squeezed in my chest and I could feel myself start to panic. “Wait... someone associated with Herzog... is at Cassell?”

Wasn’t it true that Herzog only copied Bondarev? And Bondarev had access to first hand information? And wasn’t Cassell college such a repository of information?

Could someone who could modify EVAs code to stop protecting us, also modify the evidence against Mingfei?

While I was being interrogated, they showed me the video footage of the attack on the Principal. I saw how it was so fast that not even the man with Time Zero could block it. Maybe a hybrid couldn’t do such a thing, but maybe a dragon could.

A dragon... associated with Herzog and Bondarev... at Cassell?

Could the person who had caused me so much misery be the puppeteer behind the most violent and powerful deep state in the entire world? Or... a dragon behind that person?

I shook my head.

I couldn’t stay with Crow. Crow had to play footsie with that organization. The longer we were here, the longer he was in danger. I bet if I said anything to him about what I thought, he’d be killed just for knowing too much.

I looked down at Ru’Yi as she sucked greedily at my breast and realized that if what happened to my firstborn son happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to survive it!

Someone knocked at the door. My whole body jolted. I grabbed Tongzi from the night stand. If there was a dragon behind that door, this was a blade that could kill it.

“Who is it?” I asked, my voice still hoarse from the toxin.

“It’s Zihang.”

I relaxed somewhat and checked the clock. It had been thirty minutes so it was plausible that he had woken up and gotten dressed to come to my door.

Ru’Yi fought me when I tried to pull her off. I didn’t want her to start crying. So with the baby still firmly attached I made my way as quietly as I could to the door and peered out the peep hole.

He was standing there. At least, the person who looked like him. Couldn’t Herzog change forms?

“First, tell me the name you gave me.”

Zihang seemed confused a moment. “Chufeng?”

“Right. Okay. What is it?”

“I’m going to get some ice cream. Did you need anything?”

“By yourself?” I asked, appalled.

“Yes.”

“No you are not. Wait. I’m going with you.”

“Okay.”

#Nono #Chen Moutong #Johann Chu #Chu Zihang #Lu Mingfei #Mingfei Lu #Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing

3 notes · View notes

dr-spencer-reids-queen · 5 years

Text

Please Save It

Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner, JJ

Word Count: 1,418

Warnings: angst, minor fluff

Summary: The only thing that will save your life is Spencer, and how well he could sew skin together.

Square Filled: Roadside Surgery

Author’s Note: This is for @badthingshappenbingo and if you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me. Thank you @kendall-michele for the idea. if your tag doesn’t work three times in a row (three stories I post in a row) then I will be removing you.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“Spencer,” you gritted through your teeth, “I love you with all my heart, but please drive faster.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” he panicked.

“No, you’re not. The blood is coming out faster, so I need you to drive faster. Find a way to go faster,” you gasped when blood poured over your fingers and onto the leather seats. Hotch had sent you and Spencer to approach what you thought was the unsub’s hideout. It was remote, secluded, and very quiet. The hideout resided in the middle of the woods, and Hotch thought the unsub was taking his victims here to kill them before taking them somewhere else to dump the body.

As soon as you got there, you could confirm that Hotch’s theory was right. There was blood spatter on the walls, remains on the floor, and everything else you needed to convict the man. The only thing you and Spencer didn’t calculate is that the unsub might have been home. All evidence pointed towards him going out to get another victim, so you two didn’t worry about anyone being home otherwise there would have been more backup.

It turned out that the man was home, and he was prepared for an attack. He took out Spencer first despite his lanky form. With only you to take care of, he got rid of your gun before he used his knife on you. He got a few cuts on your body, but those were nothing compared to the gash on your leg. There was a split moment where you thought he was going to do something other than what he did, and he slashes your leg badly. When Spencer woke up, the man left since he knew you two would be busy with your injuries to catch him. He fled the place, and it was up to your boyfriend to get you to a hospital before you bled to death.

“We’re almost there,” Spencer tried to calm you down, but there was nothing he could say to make this better. It wasn’t his fault you got stabbed, it was yours. If you didn't hesitate, you would have taken him down without this gash.

“No, we’re not. We’re in the middle of the fucking forest, Spencer!” you yelled as the pain spread. Spencer was forced to drive slower in the mountains since there were so many twists and turns that is he wasn’t careful, he could drive you off the side of the road.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” he stressed as he kept his eyes on the road. There was no cell reception out here so there was no way to contact the rest of the team to tell them what happened. As far as Hotch or anyone else knew, you two were heading home perfectly healthy.

“I’m not going to make it until then. There is too much blood coming out,” you whimpered. Both of your hands were covered in your blood, and the air was starting to smell of the metallic substance.

“No, you have to hold on. You need to fight it,” Spencer urged, hating the fact that he couldn't do anything but drive.

“You need to pull over,” you gritted out as you thought of the first aid kit you had in the back of your car.

“What? Are you crazy?”

“Spencer, I have a first aid kit back there--”

“A first aid kit isn’t going to help us, Y/N!”

“Spencer! It’s not a normal first aid kit! Please, just pull over so I can stitch this up myself,” you yelled. Spencer weighed his options: he could either ignore you and drive with the big risk of you bleeding out or he could listen to you and you could roughly patch the wound up so that no more blood comes out. He chose the latter as he pulled off to the side of the road before getting out and grabbing the kit from the trunk.

“What the hell is this?” he asked as he opened the passenger door. There was no way you would be able to move your leg to face him, so you just sat still and moved your head to look at him.

“Believe me when I say this isn’t the first time I’ve had to patch myself up. I’ve done plenty of roadside surgeries on myself. Just give me the alcohol,” you begged. He didn’t waste any time and gave you the item you requested. Popping the top off the bottle, you began drinking the poison so that when the next part comes along, you wouldn’t feel as much pain as you would sober.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Spencer sighed.

“Just hand me the floss and needle,” you sighed shakily. With a deep sigh, he took the unscented floss before tying it to the needle. With a shaky hand, you took the needle before removing your other hand. Without anything in the way, blood gushed out of your wound even more.

“You’re shaking like crazy.”

“No shit, Sherlock. It’s my nerves. You need to do this for me.”

“What?”

“Spencer, my life is literally in your hands. Please save it.”

Spencer took the bloody bottle of alcohol in one hand and the needle in the other. He knew a great deal about medical procedures, but he has never performed one. On the other hand, if he didn’t, the love of his life would die. Blood coated his hands as he wiped some of the blood away so that he could see what he was doing.

“This is going to sting,” he wanted before pouring the alcohol over your wound. Throwing your head back, you let out the loudest scream you could possibly muster. Your boyfriend flinched at the sound, but he hooked your skin with the needle before roughly sewing it together. Snatching the bottle from his hand, you took another big gulp of the substance as tears rolled down your cheeks. Whenever he poked your skin, you couldn’t even feel a thing since the pain from the gash was too great to notice anything else. Your disturbed nerves made your whole body numb, your leg especially. Spencer made quick work of the sewing before he wiped his hands on his jeans to clean his hands as best as he could.

“You’re done. Come on, I have to get you to the hospital,” he said as he threw the kit on the ground before closing the door. He rushed to the driver’s side, got in, and skirted out of there. With the wound now temporarily closed, you were able to somewhat relax knowing that your blood would stay inside your body.

“What the hell happened?” Hotch snapped as the rest of the team walked into the hospital. Spencer was covered in your blood as he didn’t have time to wash any of it off. Bloody handprints were displayed on his jeans and his hands were stained with your blood.

“The car is much worse.”

“What. Happened.”

“The unsub was there when we got there. He took me out first before he got to Y/N. He stabbed her leg and created a huge gash which caused a lot of blood loss. She was going to bleed out if I didn’t sew her up.”

“You sewed her skin together?” Derek asked.

“It was either that or death, Morgan,” he snapped, feeling stressed from the events.

“Where is the unsub now?” Emily asked.

“He got away. When he figured we both valued her life more than catching him, that’s when he made his escape. He’s probably long gone now. You should have seen that place, Emily. Bodies everywhere and blood was on the wall.”

“All that matters right now is that Y/N is going to be okay. I’ll have Garcia find out where he might have gone next. Maybe there is a backup place he goes to.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Spencer sighed.

“Kid, you need to go home and take a shower. JJ and I will stay here, but she’s in surgery right now.”

“Yeah,” Spencer whispered when he registered just how much blood was on him. “Can I take your car? You might need to trash Y/N’s. It’s like a horror movie in there.”

“You got it,” Derek said as he tossed his keys to the young doctor. He had to repeat to himself that you were going to make it out alive. It’s the only thought that he cared about right now.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@adlerorzel-blog @kendall-michele @megsyrae @bitchwhytho @lucipie666

154 notes · View notes

troofless · 5 years

Text

Servamp Chapter 85 summary

So, if you read the raws without any context and have no idea of the predicament Kuro is in, now you do! Spoilers under the cut, but that should be obvious.

Many thanks to @svpages for posting the raws of Chapter 85! This chapter focuses solely on where Tsubaki is at the hospital. Yeah, that means no Mikuni vs Tsurugi or more onsen shenanigans…

Chapter starts off with Kuro carrying Mahiru towards the hospital.

Mahiru: I can see it! The hospital!

Kuro: Are you sure Tsubaki really did appear…

- Cue a giant explosion -

Kuro: …We’d better hurry.

(Cue gasp at how much character development Kuro has gone through for him, the Servamp of Sloth, to say those words.)

Cut back to Tooru and Iori facing off against new-makeover-with-abs Tsubaki.

Iori: Where’s [Sloth]?

Tooru: …He’ll be here soon…

Iori says it’s been a while since he’s fought on the frontlines, and laments The Disappearance of Touma Taishi. (Touma, where? This is the second time Iori’s mentioned Touma, Iori really wants you back LOL)

(The first time was last chapter when Iori was all, Tooru YOU’RE LATE if it was Touma he would have been here in 2 minutes, and Tooru was all, well if it was Touma he wouldn’t have come here in the first place!)

Iori mentions that 15 years ago the three of them were known as the Tokyo Branch’s strongest 3 idiots (literally 3 baka). Touma, where.

Then Tsubaki looks at Tooru and says, hmm… you… we’ve met before, haven’t we. Tooru apologises for not introducing himself at the sushi bar (way back in the early chapters of Servamp), since he was hiding his identity as a member of C3 from Mahiru back then.

Tsubaki: Shirota Mahiru’s family…

Next panel is just Tsubaki with a serial killer face: …He, too, must be grieving.

(cue the uh ohs.)

Tooru brandishes a stake not unlike Junichirou’s signature weapon, which Tsubaki comments on as familiar (having being caught in it during the Greed arc), and is Tooru the legimitate user?

Tooru: Junichirou is my chosen successor.

Tooru: The user of Mjolnir (read: this weapon), [The one who captures], Thor…

Tooru: Its predecessor is, I, Shirota Tooru! Because I’m Thor!

Tsubaki: That’s not amusing in the slightest.

Yup, you guessed it, Tooru puns on his name ‘Tooru’ and ‘Thor’ in the same fashion when he and Tsubaki met in the sushi place… To-ru dake ni na! Tanaka Strike even says they’ve been waiting for a long time (8 years) to use this one(1) gag in the manga… I’m so glad it’s finally here.

Iori stops Tsubaki momentarily with his barrier magic, apologising for Tooru’s ‘trademark bad puns’. And because new-makeover-with-abs Tsubaki is apparently an unstoppable force now, he breaks the barrier like it’s nothing. Iori stabs more keys into his arms (which activates his magic) but Tsubaki just button-mashes the slice-and-dice button and shatters them into pieces.

Iori, again, laments the disappearance of Touma. Touma, where?

Next, it’s Uncle Tooru’s turn to cast a giant magic spell. His first words are “Look at me, children of the sun.” The rest are too confusing to translate. Something about a castle, and a hero. Tsubaki tries to interrupt his spellcasting because no good demon king waits for the hero to finish casting a giant spell of mass destruction, but is blocked by Iori’s barriers.

Tooru raises his stake, and a swirl of lightning appears on its tip, and he ends the spell with: “My name is… THE THUNDER GOD.” Or the God of Thunder, whichever one you like. In Japanese, that's raijin, which also serves as the chapter’s title. Which is also a reference to Thor, the god of hammers thunder, if you didn’t catch that.

The end of the stake transforms into a giant hammer, and he slams it down on Tsubaki, shouting a fancy Japanese move name. And here’s the kicker: Because it’s Tooru, it’s full of puns too. The furigana 'Lion Reign’ is written in English, and the kanji 雷音礼印. In Japanese, separately, each kanji would read something like: rai/on/rei/in, which would sound, in Japanese, when read, like Lion Reign. Yeah. Translated to English the kanji would read thunder/sound/gratitude/stamp (like those you put on a document). Considering that he’s smashing that hammer down on Tsubaki like a rubber stamp I’d say Tanaka Strike’s choice of kanji is pretty spot-on. Tanaka Strike is a chuuni confirmed?

But of course, remember how Tsubaki got buffed up to cheat-level status? He catches Tooru’s hammer in one hand, and goes, “Oh, let me return the favour.” and stabs Tooru right in the stomach with his black katana. Smooth.

Tooru shouts for Iori to run but before he can even move Tsubaki slashes Iori in the chest as well.

Cue Mahiru and Kuro to arrive on scene. Mahiru, of course, cries, “Uncle!” and goes to his side. Kuro and Tsubaki have a glaring face-off. Mahiru keeps crying out “Uncle… Uncle Tooru…” but Tooru doesn’t reply, lying prone facedown on the ground. He’s been stabbed in the chest, after all.

Tsubaki: Hey there, nii-san.

Kuro comments on how Tsubaki’s gone too far in his mischief or something. This part’s a little unclear to me, to be honest. Tsubaki responds with ‘Is that so?’, ‘Because they’re human, they die when they are cut (the kanji for behead is used here for the word cut)’. (is this a fate reference)

Tsubaki addresses Mahiru, talking about how when you can’t save a life that’s about to die, you feel sad. Because it’s the life of a person that you treasure, you want to do something about it, right? An extremely universal and natural emotion. There’s nothing wrong with thinking that way. Right?

Tsubaki and Kuro get another face-off panel. We all know there’s a buildup. Something big is coming. And here it is:

Tsubaki: Hey, nii-san. Right now, Shirota Mahiru (furigana reads: your precious friend) is wishing for his dying family to continue to live for eternity.

“How about you bring back his uncle’s life by turning him into your subclass? He’s counting on you.”

“What will you do?”

And the caption at the side reads, “The cruelty… of Tsubaki!” Zankoku, like in A Cruel Angel’s Thesis, but I’m digressing.

…And dang, those last few lines were hard to translate. Tsubaki’s original words are more of the lines of ‘Why don’t you turn him into your subclass, and connect his life together (??? the word for ‘tie’ is used here, like string)? I’m/We’re/He’s (no subject here) relying/depending on you here…’

So, will Kuro break his vow of not making subclasses? Or will Tooru not die when he is killed and continue to live on? tfw when you bust out a super special move but the last boss takes no damage and one-shot kills you

#Servamp #Servamp spoilers #Servamp Chapter 85 #sweet #troofless stuff #my translation #it's long so yay?

119 notes · View notes

theincompetentgenius · 5 years

Text

Waves of Glass (Hideyoshi x Reader)

Anon: Can I get a Hideyoshi IkeSen angst followed by fluff with a savage s/o or mc. I’ll leave the storyline to you. Make me suffer, cause me pain.💜💜 I love your writing style, it’s amazing. Your language is really flowy hehehe

I think this fic is 90% angst and 10% fluff? Actually, I don’t even think it’s fluff (or as fluffy as it should be to balance the darkness of the fic), but silly humor? I tried my best but this turned out to be a lot darker than I expected. Anywho, thanks for the wait and enjoy!

Title: Waves of Glass

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Hideyoshi x Reader

Word Count: 2085

TW: Angst, Blood, Guns, Drowning

“This is the bullet I’ve been saving for you,” the man purrs. He presses the barrel of his gun to my forehead.

The moonlight shines on his slick, pale face. I’m trapped between this psychopath and a wall of glass that veils the glimmering ocean, which sits about 50 feet below me. I have no idea what to do. The objective was to indefinitely borrow something and leave, not sitting as a hostage and having my brains blown. I highly doubt that the warlord would get to since I snuck into their caravan of supplies and slipped out while they were asleep. Maybe I should’ve listened to Hideyoshi.

As my thoughts circle around my head, the small amount of moonlight is hidden behind a veil of clouds. In the momentary cover of darkness, I slip my hand into his pocket and take what I needed. What I came here for in the first place. He shifts slightly, the rustling sound of his jacket masking the sound of soft footsteps. The general turns around, distracted by the sudden thump in the chamber in the other room. He lowers the gun.

I don’t think as I push him to the ground. He fires the gun and the bullet whizzes by my cheek. I grab his hand and he shoots the gun in random directions, trying to gain control of his aim. I slam my other fist into his face at the same time as I bring my knee to his groin. The sound of the gun exploding and the bullet ricocheting off the wall fills my ears. Too close. The man takes advantage of my daze and grabs me by the neck. Instant fills my throat. I gasp for air, but my lungs are frozen and my chest doesn’t move. He flips me over. The gun is once again at my head.

Another bang. This time, it’s not from a bullet but an angry Hideyoshi who looms over the man. His sword is at the general’s neck. “Let her go,”

Hideyoshi slashes the general’s hand. The stranger howls in pain and drops the gun. I run towards the warlord, but my man trips me with his feet and pushes me towards the glass wall. It was covered in bullet holes and completely shattered. The man scrambled to his feet and grabs a chair. He eyed Hideyoshi as he lifts the chair, but he swings his arms in my direction. The chair’s leg hits my stomach and my head smashes against the glass with a loud thud. Hideyoshi tries to run over to me, but the man throws another chair in his direction. I try to lift my head, but a shard of glass cuts my jaw. Blood trickles down my neck.

Another piece of furniture flies in my direction. Although I narrowly avoid it, another shard of glass rips my stomach. Pain sears through my body. If the general didn’t kill me, then the blood loss will. I manage to move from the area of sharp glass and rest against a large crack. My body was in no condition to move. Even if I did, the man was closer and would get to me before Hideyoshi. I sigh and watch the battle before me, pushing my body against the glass to lift myself up. My legs unfold themselves and my back is almost straight. I try to push my back against the wall with a little more force. Just a little further.

The glass behind me makes a final crack before the entire wall falls down. I double over from surprise, my weight pushing me backward. Hideyoshi lifts his head and screams. He rushes to me, trying to grab my hand. I try to lift my hand, but a shard of glass comes between us and slices my finger. My hand coils back and my foot fly in mid-air. The glass follows me as we plummet into the sea. It no longer holds its previous glimmer, it has become an abyss. Dark and lightless.

My head collides with the waves. I try not to scream to prevent the water from clogging my lungs. I dive down, squinting in the dark an opening in the violent waves. A loud clunk has me looking up. Something large comes rushing at me and I barely move aside in time as another piece of glass hits me. It cuts my right shoulder and I scream from the pain. Crimson colors the waters. for a moment, my body floating. His dark hair fans out around him. I paddle closer towards him, this time slower, my energy and air rapidly draining. He rushes toward me, his eyes filled with worry. I realize his armor is weighing him down. He holds one hand out, while the other struggles to unsheathe the sword at his side. It doesn’t budge. He is wasting the remnants of his strength and the surface is still at least fifty feet away.

I reach my hand out to him. My fingertips touch his. My vision grows dark as the last of my energy drains, but the fear is widespread in my chest. His sword finally comes out. He thrusts the hilt in my direction while clutching the blade. Hideyoshi winces and blood floats around his sword. I grab onto it with a shaky arm, my knuckles white against the handle. Lightning flashes and he let go of the sword, causing me to fall. He shoots towards me but stumbles backward from the current’s force. I swim against it, but my injured shoulder strains against the pain. With a force of determination, Hideyoshi grabs my arm. I try to pull myself forward. He seems heavier than he did before, or is my strength fading? I shake my head to clear it and only succeed in making myself dizzy. My throat is closing up. He grabs me with his other arm and pulls me close.

We crash through to the surface, the storm still raging. The rain makes it hard to see, but there is a ship nearby. Hideyoshi calls out to the sailors on the ship. They don’t hear him. He takes the sword in my hands and waves around, hoping to grab their attention. One sailor points in our direction and the ship steers towards us. Minutes later, he throws us a line. He loops the rope around us and yanks it to signal the sailors. He holds me as we are hoisted up. I cough and sputter as large amounts of water exit my mouth. My chest heaves.

I turn around to face Hideyoshi. “You’re late.”

“Please tell me you’re alright,” He rushes over and hugs me.

“Yes. Three broken ribs, a split spleen, a dislocated foot, and a dismembered limb. They might’ve cut out my kidneys too.”

He scolds me, “Are you really going to joke around after nearly drowning?”

I bring myself nose to nose with him with a wink. “Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this whole rescue mission.”

His scowl deepens. “Do you understand how worried I was when I found out you weren’t in your room? And the horror when you left a note saying you were breaking into the general’s home? What were you trying to do?”

I pull the object from my pocket and hold it up into the light. A small leather bag. Inside were important documents. Our key to stopping the uprising next month. “The plans for the Southern Uprising. He kept it in his coat pocket. That is the worst place to keep something you don’t want to be stolen. He was practically begging me to take it.” I click my tongue in disappointment.

His jaw drops and his scowl only deepens. “No one asked you to steal war documents! Mitushide was supposed to retrieve that information. You nearly died.”

“Wow thanks for the gratitude,” I roll my eyes.

Hideyoshi shakes his head. He buries his head in his hands and takes a moment to compose himself before looking at me once more. His mouth opens to tell me something, but his eyes water with tears. He rests his head on my shoulder and tears of my own begin to sprout.

“Stop crying. Aren’t you supposed to be Nobunaga’s second-in-command? You face life-threatening situations all the time. You’re practically a superhero. Why are you crying?” My voice is shaking as I try to keep myself together.

His arms grow tighter around me. “When I’m on the front lines, I have to worry about my own life. I’ve already accepted that I’ll die giving my life for someone, whether it be for you, Nobunaga, or the people. As long as you’re safe, I don’t mind.” Hearing him brings tears of my own. He clears his throat and continues. “Even if you’re away from me, you’re always kept safe at the palace or in the medical tents. But tonight was the first time I had seen you so close to death. Never in my life had I imagined that you would die before me. You can’t die before me or I’ll have nothing left.”

I bring his head to my chest and ruffle his hair. “Well I’m alive and breathing, aren’t I. You call it a careless risk, but I call it a successful mission. Besides, you can’t kill me because I’m a bad bitch.” I give a weak laugh and flash him a stupid grin.

He lifts his head and chuckles. “I’ve never heard anyone use profanity to address themselves positively. What does that even mean?”

I flex my non-existent muscles and make finger-guns. “It means that a slimy, konpeito-looking idiot can’t harm me because I’m a strong and independent woman who can defend myself. The only thing that could send me six feet under is the fact that he smells like the showers with a bar of dung. Also, did you get a look of his eyes? They look more like the nasty wart on his foot than actually human eyes.”

Hideyoshi pushed me away and wrinkles his nose. “Alright, I didn’t need that image in my head.”

Despite the throbbing pain in my stomach, I laugh and inch closer to him.“I’m pretty sure his pants had stains of urine and fec-”

“Alright, that’s enough. Now let’s go get you cleaned up and bandaged. The pieces of glass wedged into your skin could cause some real problems, so we need to get them removed. You don’t want to lose any blood, even if you’re a ‘bad bitch’.” He shakes his head, but the corners of his mouth curled upward.

Hearing him say the words “bad bitch” made me erupt with laughter. He sounded so silly that I rolled over, crying tears of laughter. Hideyoshi insists that it wasn’t that funny, but if he had heard himself, he’d probably pee his pants. I roll across the shipboard.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the tiny figure swimming upwards, his arms slowing down with the effort. I stop moving, laughter echoing around me. Hideyoshi follows me and grabs my arm to stop me from rolling. When I look at his face, I notice that he’s laughing as well.

“Are you finished?” He sits on the floor and places my head on his lap.

“If you heard how stupid you sounded, you’d understand why I’m laughing so hard.” The last of my laughter fizzles out.

“Then imagine how silly it sounds when you say it,” He chuckles.

For a moment, we sat together, watching the moon illuminate the waves. Something that seemed cold and dark not too long ago is now our source of peace and comfort. That and the fact that we somehow survived this whole debacle. I rock against his lap and bring his hands under my chin. He plants a small kiss on my head.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

#ikemen sengoku #hideyoshi toyotomi #ikesen hideyoshi #toyotomi hideyoshi #hideyoshi x reader #ikemen hideyoshi #ikesen fanfic

52 notes · View notes

caspian-skye · 5 years

Photo

I wrote a little thing from Alexandra’s point of view. It’s the morning after she joins Twilight Crusade, written in a diary a week later. Is this fluff? I don’t think I’ve ever written fluff, everything I write is angsty as hell with some comedy sprinkled in it.

August 23rd

It’s been a week since I joined Twilight Crusade.

I don’t know why I did it. Scratch that, actually. I joined them because I’m tired of being alone, tired of wondering when I wake up on any given day if it’ll be my last. But still, I agreed to live with, and work with, 8 people I had no idea existed just a few days earlier. Something inside me told me to do it, but I’m not sure what.

I’m getting used to these guys. Azure, Dustyn, Rusty, and Ezelia are all super friendly, but they get weirder in that order. Not a bad weird. They’re honestly fun to be around. Raven isn’t stuck up like I thought, she’s just too shy to talk to me. If I initiate conversation, and if Rusty’s there too, she breaks out of her shell a bit, and she’s actually really nice as well. Greyson is interesting. He’s probably a nice person just like (most of) his friends, but he’s a little scary. I know he was the one who invited me to Twilight Crusade after I scared them all half to death, but he always has that pissed off look on his face, and barely talks unless it’s to Azure or about Twilight Crusade things. I’ve decided to keep away from Ember for now. She scares me, and though I don’t think she dislikes me, she’s been pretty cold and curt all the times I’ve talked to her. How is she such good friends with Raven, of all people?

And of course, that leaves Kita. I can’t let anyone, especially her, find out that I already have a huge crush on her.

The morning after I joined Twilight Crusade, I woke up at the brink of dawn. I took the liberty of checking Raven’s scroll to see the time, and it was just after 6 in the morning. The tent was unbearably hot and stuffy from the 4 people who crammed into it for the night, so I quietly climbed over them to get outside. Six is about the time of day I wake up in late Summer anyway. It’s bright outside, but not searing hot just yet. It’s the perfect time to move and find a town, or someplace with water.

On my way to the camp bathrooms, I noticed Kita was already awake as well. She paid me little notice apart from a side-eyed glance, as she was deep in what looked to be sword training. She slowly performed a series of several strikes, then reset and repeated them faster as I passed.

When I returned, I hadn’t the slightest clue of what to do. I knew Twilight Crusade wasn’t used to a nomadic life in the desert, so they probably wouldn’t be up for a while. I could’ve explored the campgrounds we currently live in, and I considered it for several moments as I sat at the table, twirling a surprisingly flexible twig from one of the campground’s trees in my fingers.

I noticed Kita beginning to approach, but I didn’t dare grant her much more than a quick glance and polite smile. Of course she seemed nice enough when we first met (she called my eyes BEAUTIFUL!), but since, she hadn’t said a single word. She’s always just... there. In the shadows barely beyond where you can see. And when you can see her, she has that blank, intense-as-hell stare.

That’s exactly why my heart skipped a couple of beats when, after a quick stop at the cooler, she took a seat at the table across from me.

“Good morning, Alexandra,” Kita said, bowing her head slightly.

My voice caught in my throat and I forgot how to speak. I think I managed to bid her good morning too.

“Do you feel as if you are settling in well?” Kita inquired.

“Well, kind of...” I admitted. “It’s all just a bit nerve wracking, you know? Like I’m a total outsider, and you guys have known each other for... well, however long you’ve known each other.”

I should take this time to note something. At this point, I was a bit self-conscious about the way I spoke to Kita. She’s so well-spoken. She has a noticeable accent, that even borders on heavy at times (I later found this accent to be from remote Mistral), but she speaks so clearly and calmly that I can always tell what she’s saying. It’s honestly relaxing, hearing her talk to me. Until I have to talk back. That part gets me.

“I understand how you feel,” Kita said. “I have only known them for a handful of moons-- forgive me. Months, I mean.”

“Really?” I asked. “You mentioned the Shrouded Fox yesterday. Were you with them?”

Kita cocked her head, as if considering her reply. “It is complicated,” she began. “I was a member of the tribe, until I was exiled. I joined Greyson after he helped save my people from a prophesied grimm attack which would have brought calamity to my people.”

“Whoa.”

Kita took a sip from the water bottle that sat before her. Her movement brought several things to my attention. First, her muscles. I really, really hope I don’t come across as creepy, but she’s so buff. She’s not built like a bodybuilder or anything, but what mass she does have looks to be entirely rock-hard, toned muscle. Her shoulders are broad, only when compared to her waist. The muscles under her skin rippled with her movement, and for a bit, my train of thought completely derailed.

This is definitely gonna come across as creepy, and I’m sorry. But I’ve seen her abs since this conversation and... wow.

Anyway, the second thing I noticed was her scars. The largest of countless knicks and slashes documented on her skin is on the center of her chest, and it’s about three inches across. It’s perfectly circular, with some strange symbol I’m not even close to recognizing. It looks like a burn. A brand, maybe? God, that must have hurt. The second scar I see is an oblong section of darkened, disfigured skin nearly an inch across on both sides of her forearm. Was that arm shot straight THROUGH?! This girl is a badass!

“I am actually quite curious about this world,” Kita noted. “If it does not bring any unpleasant memories, would you mind sharing a bit about your tribe?”

“Well, Raven actually explained us pretty well yesterday,” I recalled with a nervous laugh. “We of the Inyan were a nomadic tribe, and many of us were dust wielders. We took refuge wherever could support us, and would go into desert towns to sell dust, fabrics, and anything else we could find. All of it was destroyed the night my people were slain. All I could do to support myself, other than hunting for food and finding water, was sell stone sculptures. As you can imagine, they didn’t pay as well as dust and quality fabric.”

Kita cocked her head curiously. “Did you visit villages often?” she asked.

“The Inyan would visit once a week, every week,” I replied. “I visited less than that though. One person takes less feeding than an entire tribe.”

“I cannot imagine what it must have been like, to survive alone for many years,” Kita sympathized. “It was difficult enough to survive my exilation, which lasted nearly a moon. I had far more food and water available than you.”

“It’s not like there were people that would have killed me on sight though, I could go wherever I wanted,” I replied, perhaps a bit too flippantly. “Anyway, if you don’t mind me asking, what was your tribe like?”

“We were completely isolated from society, deep in the mountains of Northern Mistral,” Kita answered. “From a young age, all I knew was war, and worship of the Great Shrouded Fox. We were quite traditional, as well. We had set celebrations for the birth of a child, and ceremonies for those who joined the stars, among many other rituals.”

“You guys were completely isolated?” I questioned curiously.

Kita nodded. “The only times I had ever seen someone not of my tribe, outside of combat, were when outsiders came to investigate us,” she explained. “Raven was one such outsider. I aided her in slaying creatures of grimm. One of my tribemates saw, and I was exiled. Contact with those from the outside is forbidden, as it is thought to be dangerous.”

“Aren’t you even the slightest bit bitter about that? Toward anyone?” I asked.

Kita shook her head gently. “It was purely my choice, and I understood the consequences. Raven had been mistreated by those she called allies, and so I do not fault her either,” she said. “Yet still, it was quite the fall from grace. My family was second most revered, only to the village elder’s bloodline. I was to marry his son when I was of age.”

My blood ran cold. Up until this point I had fooled myself, thinking that I might actually have a chance with this girl. Now, I remembered. She’s straight. Definitely straight.

“Oh, I’m... sorry,” I offered. “I know-- I mean, I can imagine how it would feel to be pulled away from someone you loved.”

Kita cocked her head. “I do not know if I truly loved him,” she admitted. “The Shrouded Fox marries for strength, so our union made sense. I was the strongest unmarried woman of my tribe. Yet he was more than ten years my senior.”

“Do you feel love?” I asked. I covered my mouth, eyes widening as I looked to the ground. What. The. HELL did I just ask? It’s like I asked if she was a robot or something. Which, I mean, she seems like one until you actually talk to her. It’s kind of endearing.

Kita pinched her scarf between thumb and index finger, raising it above her nose to conceal her cheeks.

“Yes. I believe I do.”

#RWBY #RWBY OC #rwby fanfiction #shipping #RIP Alexandra Kita felt love for Greyson not her #How do I do italics on here

1 note · View note

fgodestinyawakenings · 6 years

Text

FGO Destiny Awakenings: Fuyuki Singularity Section 4

Fujimaru Ritsuka

19|XXX High school|[email protected]

Professional Experience

Chaldea Security Organization 2016 - 2016

Field Researcher

Heavy sleeper as being able to sleep through Director's speech for 2 hours.

Knowledgeable in history and mythology.

Silver Medalist for Kendo in High school. Capable of taking down 1 to 2 zombie skeletons at the same time

Bodyguarding experience from protecting the chickened and coward Director

Flirting with the handsome and fluffy Head Doctor in Chaldea after being kicked out from first mission*

Self-taught in ever ready to help preparing burial when killed in action.

Reasons for leaving: Our Tsundere Director fired us because she was worried for my welfare if I would cower at the fear of dealing with those zombies.

Ritsuka: God damn it, Ritsuko! Nothing of that even happen at all! Ritsuko: *laughs* Sure, that's what you always say before having a crush on someone, bro.

Investigate Port Ruin

THWACK!

With her shield slashed against the skeleton, Mash observed it reduced to black dust before dissolving away. The Fujimaru siblings approached and Ritsuka asked, “We have dealt finished on our end, Mash.”

Mash nodded and reported. “The hostile life-form has been removed here too.”

“I didn’t know what would happen with that monster, but,” Olga Marie walked out from her hiding spot as usual when they faced in combat. She approached Mash with a proud grin. “I expected nothing less of a Servant’s body. Such power.”

“Not that it makes them look any less scary,” Mash frowned at her words displeased at the compliment. She set her shield aside on her right. “Director, I have a question for you. The Fuyuki in our data and this Fuyuki are just too different.

“What happened in this city, exactly? What are your thoughts, Director?”

“Let’s see, history must’ve been slightly disrupted. That’s the only reason I could think of,” Olga Marie replied. With their eyes and attention fixated on her, she shifted to them back. “Mash, Fujimaru, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.

“Chaldea observes the future through an Earth model called Chaldeas.

“At the same time, a familiar called Laplace compiles past records.

“You can say Laplace job to gather data on history that wasn’t made public and information that was buried in the darkness that no one knows.”

The group went down again while tuning in to the Director’s explanation.

“According to Laplace’s observations, an unusual Holy Grail War was confirmed in this city in 2004.”

Mash’s single violet orb widened. “Holy Grail War? You mean the Holy Grail of legend? The magical chalice that is the root of all magecraft, the one that is said to grant its holder’s wishes?”

“Eh? Is it actually that powerful?” Ritsuko widened her orbs in the revelation too.

“From what myths said, the Holy Grail was claimed to be a golden chalice containing Christ’s blood. It’s a chalice used by Jesus Christ, the Son of God, in his Last Supper. And, to collect the blood of Christ upon his crucifixion.

Ritsuka explained to his sister. “With the Grail containing Christ’s blood, it’s undeniably the most powerful source of magic.

“They not only showed up in Celtics and Arthurian legends.

“But many other legends and myths heroes were pursuing it too.”

Olga Marie nodded. “Yes, that’s the one.”

“So, that’s why those Masters were searching for the Grail… A most powerful artifact by the son of God’s blood.” Ritsuko muttered to herself.

“Mages in Fuyuki city competed for the Grail, and in order to activate it summoned seven Heroic Spirits,” Followed by a grim expression, the Director resumed.

“That was the start of the Holy Grail War. Unknown to anyone, Servants were summoned to this town.

“The Fuyuki Holy Grail War is simple. Seven Masters fight each other. The last one standing gets the Grail. Chaldea learned about this in 2010. My father,” Olga Marie shook her head and amended. “I mean, the previous director used this data to build the Summoning System.

“That’s what makes up Chaldeas’s Heroic Spirit Summoning System, Fate.

“Our third invention after Laplace and Chaldeas.”

While the sibling’s pair nodded, Mash noticed and inquired, “Third? Isn’t that the Near-Future Observation Lens, Sheba?”

“That was created by Professor Lev. Well, I guess you can say we both worked on it,” Olga Marie showed a proud beam at the memories. “Anyway, this is where Servants come from. Seven Servants fought here, and in the end, Saber was victorious.

“The town wasn’t destroyed, and the Servants shouldn’t have been noticed by anyone, but,” Another sweeping scan of the city, Olga Marie decided. “Now this is happening. We should assume that the outcome changed due to this Singularity.

“The anomaly in 2004 brought about an alteration to human history and as a result, we’re no longer able to see 100 years in the future. That’s why it’s our job to repair this anomaly. Somewhere here is the reason history has been disturbed.

“Once we analyze and eliminate it, that will complete our mission. All of us will be able to return to the present,” Finished her explanation, the Director shifted her attention to Ritsuka who had raised his hand.

He put his hand back down and asked, “Was there any Heroic Spirits summoned at Chaldea?”

“Of course. But it didn’t go well, there weren’t many successes,” Olga Marie shook her head with a disappointed expression. “According to the data, three were summoned, but I only know of two.”

Three fingers lifted up from her hand, her index finger slightly pulled apart from the other two as she revealed. “The previous Director summoned the first. Second and third arrived after I became Director.”

“The second fused with Mash,” Olga Marie’s orange orbs directed at the violet-haired Servant. She suddenly let out an irritated sigh, “And, well, you know, the third. The weirdo lives in Chaldea. Leonardo da Vinci.”

A second passed, Ritsuka tried to process what the Director mentioned before yelling in shock.

“Did…. Did you say…. Leonardo da Vinci?!!”

“GuOOOOOOO!!!!!” A familiar ear-piercing screech caught their attention. Their head turned to the front to meet a familiar group of armed skeletons heading to them.

“Not these guys again! Get rid of them, Mash, Fujimaru!”

Olga Marie ran off at once to find a shelter from the battlefield.

Ritsuka swept his head to the running Director. “Hold on, is it that Leonardo da Vinci? The same da Vinci that painted Mona Lisa?!”

“Damn it, Ritsuka.

“Save your fanboying of historical people later!

“We got murderous boneheads coming for us!”

Ritsuko dragged her brother’s right arm along as Mash had charged ahead into the battlefield.

Ritsuka stood firm as he tried to pull his arm back. “But, it’s Da Vinci! The one who painted The Vitruvian Man, Mona Lisa, and The Last Supper painting, and invented early flying machines!”

Ritsuko rolled her eyes and pointed at the army of skeletons. “War is hell, Onii-chan. Now let’s kill those things or we have a dead body of our Director to bury later.”

As Ritsuko signaled to him of Mash taking down their enemies alone. Ritsuka huffed with his pipe armed. “Fine, let’s kill these morons first.”

-0-

A moment later, Mash set down her shield with a heavy sigh, “Phew, the battlefield is over, Masters. I’m relieved that we pulled through again.”

“Good work, Mash,” Ritsuka grinned, setting his pipe on the ground with a huff.

Ritsuko patted her back and smiled, “Yeah, thank you, Mash!”

Mash showed a faint blush at their compliments and acknowledged, “Yes. I am happy that I can be useful to you, Senpais.”

As they beamed at each other, Olga Marie’s voice approached them with concern. “Hey, Mash. Is it possible that you can’t use your Noble Phantasm?”

“Noble Phantasm?”

Ritsuka repeated with a curious expression.

The violet-haired Servant nodded with a frown. “Apparently, I don’t even know which Heroic Spirit fused with me…”

She glanced at her shield and added. “And, I’m unable to use the power of its Special Arts, the Heroic Spirits’s secret weapon—known as a Noble Phantasm.”

“Mash-chan?”

On cue from Ritsuko’s voice, Mash shifted to them with her head nodded. “Ritsuko-senpai, Ritsuka-senpai, I’m sorry for explaining this so late. Servants are equipped with a unique skill called a Noble Phantasm. It’s derived from each hero’s legend and great deeds and is a secret weapon.

“But, I am unable to wield my Noble Phantasm.” With another glimpse at her shield, Mash turned her gaze back to the siblings. “I can somehow use it as a weapon, but its output is decreased. I can’t even release its True Name. In fact, I don’t even know what the origins of this weapon of mine might be.”

While Olga Marie remained silent, Ritsuko turned to her brother.

“Any idea of mythical heroes using a shield as a weapon?”

“Not that I can tell,” Ritsuka narrowed his orbs and leaned his head to check out the shield. “Or at least, from what I remember, Ritsuko. My tablet may or not have documents I’ve downloaded on this. Other than that, I don’t recognize this shield anywhere.”

“I see…” Ritsuko nodded solemnly.

“In any case, you can think of me as a failed Servant,” Mash then corrected. “Or maybe just a capable kouhai* that can get even stronger. I have no leads on the Heroic Spirit that fused with me too, but with both of you as my Masters, I will figure it out as I grow.”

“Mash…” Ritsuka stared at with surprise at her faith to them.

Olga Marie nodded in agreement. “That’s true.

“Masters have the ability to analyze their Servants parameters, skills, and matrixes.”

The Director shifted her gaze at the siblings and went on. “Fujimaru Ritsuka, Fujimaru Ritsuko… As a Master, once you both become good enough, you should be able to analyze Mash’s Servant data.

“Any Servants you make a contract with from this point should be the same. First, you need to learn their True Name and Noble Phantasm. As your trust with them grows, your Servant’s power will grow too.”

Turned her head aside, Olga Marie let out a scoff. “Well, it’s not like you both have that much potential in you. The fact that you two can’t use Mash that well shows that. Once we get Chaldea’s Rayshift capability back online, we will shift a first-class Master here.

“Then you both are fired,” The Director with her index finger lifted and pointing at the Fujimaru Siblings.

“Newbies with no combat experience can spend their time terrified in some corner in Chaldea.”

“Wasn’t that you who kept hiding like a coward while we do all the dirty work?” Ritsuka and Ritsuko thought in synch with a glare on their faces.

But, a thought stuck in Ritsuko’s mind. As she remembered from Romani’s words about Olga Marie, Ritsuko asked with a curious expression. “Could it be that you’re worried about us?”

Knowingly she struck the spot, Olga Marie’s face turned red and flustered. “O-Of course! Y-You and your brother especially are only out fighting force here! If you and he gets taken out, who’s going to fight?”

“Hmm, in other words,” Ritsuka picked up his pipe and lay across his shoulders. One of his eyebrows raised as he questioned, “Weren’t you the one scared and spending quality time ‘terrified in some corner’?”

“I wasn’t! Not in the least!” Olga Marie’s orange orbs glared at Ritsuka. Though, it simply caused her glare less taken seriously to the raven-haired Master. She reminded with a yell. “You should be respectful to your elders!”

“Anyway, I’m glad you three understand each other better now.”

Mash stepped in to prevent any further escalation into an argument, “Let’s move before any more of them show up.”

While the Fujimaru siblings nodded to agree, Olga Marie stormed ahead as she grumbled to herself. As they walked off, the siblings grinned at each other while following the Director from behind.

End of Section 4

#fgo #fate grand order #fgo destiny awakenings

6 notes · View notes

caveartfair · 6 years

Text

7 Zines That Helped People Work through Mental Health Issues

For the uninitiated, a “zine” is often defined as a self-published, small-circulation magazine that documents the happenings of a subculture or a niche topic. But in practice, the art of the zine is governed by “non-rules.” A zine can be consist of 40 pages, or just one. It can be entirely made up of pictures or feature no pictures at all. It can make sense, but it doesn’t have to.

During the 1980s, zine-making often involved taking a pile of collages, poems, essays, images, or doodles; lining them up, just so, over the glass of a Xerox machine; then making copies, and stapling together a series of printed pages like this. Copies might be shared with friends or left in a stack at a local record store. Today, publishing a zine can be as simple as one person creating a web page or as elaborate as a small editorial team collaborating on a printed periodical with a cover star. But the non-rules haven’t changed: If you make it and publish it yourself, and it has text, images, or both, you can probably call it a zine.

Perhaps because of this flexibility, artists and other creatives have found in zines a judgment-free space, and for some, it’s a prime medium for discussing serious, personal issues, like mental health. This point was made late last month when an art exhibition in India, organized by one of Time magazine’s 100 most influential people, Dr. Vikram Patel, illustrated how zines can help break down the stigma surrounding mental health. To explore the topic further, we share below seven examples of such zines, with insights from their creators on how these creative projects helped them navigate their own experiences with mental health.

For Girls Who Cry Often (2016)

Excerpt from Lina Wu, For Girls Who Cry Often, 2016. Courtesy of the artist.

Lina Wu, a Toronto-based artist and illustrator, collected stories and testimonies from over 20 contributors to create the 40-page zine For Girls Who Cry Often. “It’s a nice feeling to be a part of something bigger,” she said of the collaborative creation process.

For the zine, Wu focused on exploring mental health through a femme lens and let her own experiences inform her process. “For much of my life, I noticed that ‘getting emotional’ was seen as a girly or feminine thing—meaning it is often dismissed as dramatic and frivolous,” she explained.

Wu created a dreamy pink atmosphere to backdrop the contributors’ candid and sometimes dark confessions. The zine’s adolescent tone is a nod to the fanzines of the 1990s that gave teenage girls a voice. In fact, Wu points out that zines are accessible art objects because people can easily share and buy them (readers buying copies of For Girls Who Cry Often are encouraged to pay what they can afford).

An interdisciplinary artist, Wu experiments with poetry, illustrations, comics, photography, and design in her zines. And while she doesn’t bring For Girls Who Cry Often to zine fairs anymore, she noted that making it has helped her grow as an artist.

Fuck This Life (2005–present)

Excerpt from Dave Sander, Fuck This Life, 2018. Courtesy of 8ball Community.

Today, Dave Sander (a.k.a. “Weirdo Dave”) is a visual artist known for collaborations with Vans and Supreme. But back in 2005, Sander was cramming newspaper and magazine clippings into his desk drawer almost out of habit. “After I got a lot,” Sander said, “I thought it would be time to make a zine.”

Flipping through the pages of any issue of Fuck This Life is like witnessing the end-of-life montage people describe after a near-death experience. For Sander, zine-making can be an aggressively cathartic process: “You get to kill shit in your own way,” he offered.

Fuck This Life is a stream-of-consciousness compilation of found imagery—like the mushroom cloud of an atomic bomb or porn stars mid-orgasm—the result of Sander channeling his pain to “create a beautiful, loud, brutal fantasyland.” He refers to the zine ashis deepest, darkest best friend. “It was my reason for living, so I guess it saved me,” he said.

Grief Poems (2017)

Excerpt from Chloe Zelkha, Grief Poems, 2017. Courtesy of the artist.

Chloe Zelkha describes her father’s death as a “sudden, heartbreaking shock.” Within months, she’d printed out a collection of poems she found in books or discovered through teachers and grieving groups, then spread them out on her kitchen table. There, the Berkeley-based Zelkha began painting onto the pages, cranking out one after another in succession, without drafting or revising. As she found more poems, she created more pages. The result was Grief Poems, a 26-page exercise in letting go.

Zelkha’s introduction to zines was Project NIA’s The Prison Industrial Complex Is… (2010–11), a straightforward explainer zine with minimal text and simple black-and-white illustrations. She sees zines are an inherently raw medium. “That permission that’s kind of baked into the form,” she said, “is liberating.”

Poems by everyone from Kobayashi Issa to W.S. Merwin are coated in Zelkha’s uninhibited brushstrokes. She compared her process with child’s play or dreaming: “If you watch a kid play on their own for long enough, you’ll see lots of fears, feelings, ideas eeking their way into their game, and then transforming in real time. Or when we dream, and different people, places, concerns visit us in weird ways.”

Identity Crisis (2017)

Librarian–slash–zine-maker Poliana Irizarry is probably better known for their autobiographical black-and-white zines, like My Left Foot (2016) and Training Wheels (2013). But with Identity Crisis, the San Jose–based artist seemed the most vulnerable they’ve ever been. “My abuela suffered many miscarriages at the hands of American doctors, and her surviving offspring also struggle with reproductive issues,” Irizarry wrote. “Many Puerto Ricans do.”

Before the birth control pill was approved by the FDA in 1960, nearly 1,500 Puerto Rican women were unknowingly part of one of the earliest human trials for the pill. Between the 1930s and ’70s, nearly one-third of Puerto Rico’s female population of childbearing age had undergone “the operation,” often without being properly educated on its effects.

Irizarry made Identity Crisis,their first full-color art zine,during a South Bay DIY Zine Collective workshop. Personal and family histories intersect across fragmented pictures of succulents and Southwestern landscapes in a half-prose, half-verse journey through Irizarry’s identity. In just a few pages, Irizarry wrestles with intergenerational trauma and their own post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Irizarry speaks directly to their oppressors, defiant and resolute: “I live in spite of you.”

Shit I Made When I Was Sad (a.k.a. sad zine)(2018)

Excerpt from Shit I Made When I Was Sad a.k.a. sad zine, 2018. Courtesy of Malin Rantzer and Anna Persmark.

It started when Swedish friends Malin Rantzer and Anna Persmark were showing each other drawings and writing in journals they’d made while they were feeling low. “I noticed that some of the stuff we’d drawn resembled the other’s drawing,” Malin remembered, “and I think at that point we realized we should make a zine about being sad.” Rantzer turned to social media and put out a “swenglish/svengelska” (Swedish-English) call for submissions.

The then–Sweden-based duo (Persmark has since relocated to Portland, Oregon) made sad zine by cutting out and taping or pasting their artworks onto new pages, then scanning them and folding them into a booklet. Persmark sees zine-making as one of the most intimate ways of sharing her feelings; she goes out in person to share copies with her community.

“Even if all the submitters did not know each other,” Malin explained, “they were all friends’ friends or friends’ friends’ friends, and maybe that also can contribute to an atmosphere where it is safe to be vulnerable.” While making the individual works helped them heal, Persmack noted that the process of compiling the zine proved to be revelatory: “Sadness is both intensely personal and universal,” she said.

Sula Collective Issue 3: Mental Health (2015)

Oyinda Yemi-Omowum, An Emotional Response to Colours, 2015. Excerpt from Sula Collective Issue 3: Mental Health, 2015. Courtesy of Sula Collective.

Sula Collective calls itself an online “[maga]zine for and by people of colour.” Initially an exclusively online zine—different from a blog in name and ethos—it reflected its Gen-Y creators and their new ideas of what a zine could be. It’s one of the more visible new zines, among many, with the purpose of turning an online network into an IRL community. Ever since they founded it in 2015, co-creators Kassandra Piñero and Sophia Yuet See knew they wanted to dedicate an issue to mental health.

Sula Collective Issue 3: Mental Health sheds light on how teenagers of color navigate their parents’ more conservative understanding of mental health issues. “We wanted to discuss the things we kept hidden from our parents or couldn’t talk about with friends,” Piñero and Yuet See explained.

The issue was published in November 2015 and serves as a record of how today’s young artists are taking intersectional approaches to dealing with mental health issues. For example, Oyinda, a then–16-year-old Nigerian girl living in London, submitted a color-coded collage of self-portraits and textures called An Emotional Response to Colours. The literary submissions are paired with original artworks, sourced from Sula Collective’ssubmissions inbox, which range from digital art to watercolors. When asked about what makes zines a unique medium, Piñero and Yuet See answered, simply, “control.”

Shrinks: A Retrospective (2018)

Excerpt from Karla Keffer, Shrinks: A Retrospective, 2018. Courtesy of the artist.

Shrinks is part of Karla Keffer’s zine series “The Real Ramona,” where she discusses being diagnosed with and treated for PTSD after almost 30 years in therapy. The Mississippi-based artist found a sense of direction for her work, and Shrinks in particular, through learning about the Satanic Panic of the 1980s.

This phenomenon (which gave daytime television hosts the ratings of their dreams) involved psychologists across America fueling a nationwide hysteria by diagnosing patients with satanic ritual abuse (SRA) and sending them off to tough-love camps.

“Shrinks are human and fallible,” Keffer explained. “I had put a great deal of trust in their infallibility.” In Shrinks, Keffer created profiles of every therapist she’s ever had—like Julie the gaslighter and Jill the racist. Survivors of abuse are often—and paradoxically—burdened with the task of seeing through the abuse and saving themselves. “One of the things I found difficult was sorting out what had happened with each therapist—like, did she/he really say that outlandish thing?” Keffer recalled.

So much of zine-making is about reclaiming—reclaiming the freedom of expression, reclaiming space, reclaiming the past. And, as Keffer put it, “you’ve made your own book, which is not something you experience when you’re writing short stories and sending them to lit mags.” If any one thing can define zines as a medium, it’s the unbridled control it gives artists.

from Artsy News

#Artsy News

4 notes · View notes