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clanwarrior-tumbly · 26 days

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I sincerely hope I’m sending this request correctly. I wanna ask for a pokemon request where reader has a full Unown team with the Paldea crew reaction(Arven, nemona, penny) and maybe the blueberry academy crew reaction. I love unowns they’re my funky little letter guys. Basically the reader is an Unown enthusiast who only ever has unowns and only ever used Unowns. They have all the forms but the six they use are just the ones they took with them to Paldea. They went through Paldea and became champion with a full Unown team. Same with the bb league. I just think it’d be funny to see everyone’s reactions to that. Their partner mon would be Unown O and the other five you could pick cuz Unown O is my favorite letter. And also if u could write the unowns being affectionate with the reader and vice versa. I just like seeing trainers bonding with their pokemon. Thank you and I enjoy your writing!

(Side note: Honestly if ScarVio was able to have unowns in it you’d bet your ass I’d do a full Unown run. I’ve done it for other games. Was disappointed and sad I couldn’t have any unowns in them, sword/shield too.)

I LOVE the Unowns omg. I got a plushie of V and I'm still trying to get shinies and alphas in PLA

My favorite is F because it looks like a little stick figure but I adore all of them very much <3

.......

General

Ever since discovering the Unown in Johto (Ruins of Alpha) and the two additional forms in Kanto (Tanoby Chambers), you found your calling as a trainer.

An Unown trainer, to be precise.

Unown O was the first one you caught, and has been your battle partner ever since!

You've become something of an enthusiast, asking researchers what they've discovered and documenting the Symbol Pokemon as you collected them.

You've caught so many that you actually encountered a shiny or two--each capture being a success.

Their existence, connection to Arceus, home dimension, and "secret power" when more than one are gathered were all fascinating to you and made you wanna learn more.

You even incorporated some of their designs into your outfit: like gloves and socks that had symbols printed on them, keychains and charms on your jewelry and/or backpack..etc.

All 28 Unown grew to love you, and the ones in your party are super affectionate when you bring them out.

Their favorite game is hide n' seek (taking after their "ancestors" from PLA) around your home, and you like to play along.

Ofc people are wary around Unown given their mysterious nature, but you vow to break that stigma by feeding them treats and letting them nuzzle up to you, showing others that they're just like any other Pokémon: companions who deserved as much love and affection as a Pikachu.

After parting ways with your friends in Kanto and Johto, you don't leave without gifting them an Unown that was the first letter in their name (for Blue you left him a Shiny Unown B...which he still brags about to this day).

You decided to move to Paldea to take your Pokémon training more seriously, attending school and showing off your Unown since they're not native to the region.

Your team consisted of O, as well as N, E, F, R, and M--referring to what all 28 are collectively called (One Form).

Despite knowing they can only use Hidden Power and nothing else (plus the drawbacks from having a psychic-only team), you defied all the odds when you took on not one but TWO championships and won.

And of course, the friends you've made during your journey all got to know the Unown personally.

Paldea

Arven

At first, he thought your Unown team had more to it...until he realized that was ALL you brought to the battlefield.

Just funky letters that only knew one move.

"Oh come on, you're never gonna win with a team like that-"

And then you go and beat him with a team like that, and it shuts him up.

But Arven just rolls his eyes to the sky, making the excuse that he's not used to battling, and moves on.

As you get closer to him, though, and help him take down the Titan Pokémon around Paldea, he warms up to your team and admits they're kinda cool.

He'll only shoo them away if he's making a sandwich, not wanting to be crowded (but tbh he can tolerate Unown O's presence more than your 'raidon's).

You presented him with picks inspired by the designs of some Unown (I, K, T, Y, and !) to hold the ingredients together, and he's thoroughly impressed by your dedication to the craft.

You joked about selling them if you ever went into the art of culinary--yet Arven tells you to seriously consider it.

After the fight with the AI Professor in Area Zero, he sees your entire team pop out of their pokeballs, clearly stressed from being locked inside due to the Paradise Protection Protocol.

You never did a battle without them and were afraid they couldn't protect you, but you reassured them you were okay, letting them stay out during the journey home.

Only then does he realize that sure, they're weird little guys that don't seem all-that powerful, but you treasure them all the same.

Nemona

While she was confused about you not using the Paldea starter the Director offered you..she's HYPED when your real team comes out to play during your first match together: One made entirely of Unown, a Pokémon not even native to Paldea.

She may have read about them in some textbook unrelated to battling and glossed over them.

But to see them in battle left her extremely impressed and asking you dozens of questions afterwards.

They could just change their type when attacking??? She read about Arceus supposedly having that power, but it's awesome that these little letters/symbols can, too!

Despite thinking you'll bore her by having no strategy except "use hidden power", Nemona NEVER wants you to feel discouraged!

She wants to battle your team every time.

As you fight your way through the Pokémon League and all the way up to the Elite Four, she's rooting for you 100%, praising your Unown for overcoming even the toughest terastalized foes.

Knowing your party members, they LOVE praise and are very friendly towards her and her own Pokémon.

If any of them have timid/lonely natures..her words give them a big confidence boost.

And it reflects in their reaction times and how often they'll heal their own status conditions or tank OH-KO hits.

She says you're helping them get stronger every day, but you give her lots of credit, too, for helping you get this far.

Penny

While dealing with Team Star, Giacomo's dark team put your Unown through a world of hurt...

Penny had been watching the battle, worried that he was going to be the reason you failed to squander the organization.

Yet by some miracle, your team came out on top!

Only then does she realize you were more than capable of taking down all the bases.

Unown P comes out to greet her while you've doing an LP exchange, and it scared her pretty badly.

Especially as it just...stares. Occasionally blinking once or twice as she tries talking to you.

Conversations are hard enough for her already, and staring doesn't help matters, so she gets ready to leave-

But then its tune changes when you pat it on the head(?) and it trills happily, snuggling up to you.

Penny had to do a double-take, wondering how it managed to look so cute..but she dismisses your concerns when you asked why she made that face.

Later, after revealing she's the leader and becoming your friend thereafter...she still gets anxious around the Unown from time-to-time, but eventually warms up to their presence.

You don't treat them any differently despite their mysterious nature.

If anything, you care for them just like anyone would a cute Eevee: by spoiling them with love, treats, and sweet words of encouragement.

Penny felt like a hypocrite for being scared of them, considering people used to be scared of Team Star--yet they aren't as evil as everyone made them out to be.

They used to be lonely and misunderstood, just like the Unown were before you found them.

BB Academy

Kieran

When you showed off your team for the first time, Kieran was stunned.. remembering the things he read about them but didn't know they could actually be caught.

All he says when you show him Unown K is "wowzers".

And the journal entries you've logged turned his eyes into stars.

You show him all the photographs of ruins and Unown blending in during your trips to the signboards, rambling about what you've seen and discovered.

He loves listening to your tales..and wishes he could see those places with you.

But what he didn't like, however, was whenever you two had a battle in which your Unown only needed one command to win. You didn't have to try at all.

Even with his team's most supereffective attacks..speed and dumb luck were on your side, crushing his confidence and making him jealous.

It doesn't help when you still decided to keep Ogerpon despite you saying you only ever used Unown.

It wasn't fair.

And ofc by Indigo Disk, Kieran wants nothing more than to destroy your team, insulting them under his breath when he thinks you can't hear him.

You just scowl and cover their nonexistent-ears while they nuzzle up to you--although deep down, you knew he didn't mean those words.

He's just pissed off that he lost sleep and his appetite over training his team, giving them the best moves and items to utilize on the battlefield..only for you to sweep the BB League with a simple command.

He managed to OH-KO one Unown with Incineroar's Darkest Lariat..and that sinister grin you saw on his face was most unnerving.

But you still claimed victory over him and he takes the loss hard.

Down in Area Zero, he's convinced that the "Hidden Treasure" Terapagos can take down your "Hidden Power" team..

But after seeing them form a shield (similar to the crystal one in the Spell of Unown movie) that protects him when the legendary goes rogue..it changed his perspective.

Only then he understood why they were so powerful.

As the Unovian Pokedex said: Alone, nothing happens..but together, Unown are strong and invoke a great power.

When the dust settles, O floats into Kieran's hands, healing the pain in his wrist caused by Terapagos breaking the masterball.

He felt so so guilty for the name-calling and his desires to hurt them. Yet they've all forgiven him.

In a way, Unown remind you of him: small and unassuming, at first glance..but full of great power that's waiting to shine.

During Mochi Mayhem, K stays by his side while he holds off the possessed townspeople and you capture Pecharunt, growing quite attached to him.

And after coming back to the academy, you decide to trade him that Unown, hoping he incorporates it into one of his teams. Be it casual or competitive.

Carmine

Back in Kitakami, she laughed at your "puny"-looking letter Pokémon, thinking them to be weak as she sics Poochyena and Polteageist on them.

While their dark/ghost moves hit the Unown hard, it's Unown O who takes them down with critical hits..and Carmine got LIVID.

She impressed you're sticking with a team that appeared in ancient texts, although that doesn't dissuade her from teasing you about them for a while.

Ngl you nerding out over Unown facts and studies you've recorded reminds her of Kieran infodumping about Ogerpon.

Your Unown just glare at her, and you gotta call them back to your side before they try attacking her outside a battle.

However as time goes on and she warms up to you, meets Ogerpon, etc..she grows to like them more, too.

Eventually she's cheering them on as they take down the Loyal Three and tank their poison attacks.

By Indigo Disk's events, she comes around to genuinely smile at their presence.

Although she had concerns Kieran's new team would be too overwhelming for them...

Yet your team of hieroglyphics won anyways.

And down in Area Zero's underdepths, they invoked a great power to shield the siblings from Terapagos' attacks, protecting the two people who once hated and mocked them with all they had.

As they both break down in tears, some Unown come out of their pokeballs to comfort them, and O stays on your shoulder as you exit the cavern together.

A few photobomb the selfie you take with the twins back at the academy (as well as Kitakami's festival), but it's alright.

Carmine will allow it because you treasured them and they DID save her and her brother's skin.

Drayton

While you did struggle during his trial (due to his "Terarium Pokemon-only" rule), the actual battle caught him by surprise when your Unown swept the floor, taking down his dragons.

How Unown F was able to withstand an Electro Shot was beyond him, but it was sturdy enough to finish the fight with a Fairy-based Hidden Power.

After winning, you both take a selfie in commemoration, with you passing F to Drayton like "can we get an F in the chat" and him humbly accepting it.

It was all in good fun, and looking back on it in your scrapbook made you laugh.

But what you didn't feel good about was him rubbing your victory in Kieran's face after you win the championship, further shattering the kid who nearly keeled over trying to make the perfect team to beat you..only for some "letters" to kick him down into the dirt.

"Wow, that's tough..now are you gonna take the F or L, ex-champ?"

He forgot this kid doesn't understand much internet lingo, but Unown F and Unown L didn't appreciate his jokes, and neither did you.

But after the events in Area Zero, you let it go, eventually deciding to trade him Unown D as your way of thanking him for helping you get close enough to knock sense back into Kieran.

Crispin

Let's face it, he's gonna be staring at your Unown like a Magikarp out of water and ask how they eat..

Or if they eat at all for that matter.

Their eyes just blink and poof, their share of the meal is already gone.

He knows they're psychic Pokémon, but still...

His favorite ones are definitely C (bc of his name) and S (for Spicy), though he's eager to see how your team fairs in battle when you clear his trial.

You warn him it might be "boring" but he acts like you insulted his cooking and begs you not to say that again.

"Every Pokémon battle gets me fired up!!!!! Don't downplay yourself!!!"

Even when your Unown easily douse his Pokémon's flames with Water-based Hidden Power (and Fire for his Exeggcutor), he still had a blast battling you, realizing those little letters are full of vigor and surprises!

He's eager to see what supereffective type they're gonna use next.

When you eventually decide to trade, you contemplate giving him an extra Unown F you had..or a C.

But you settle for the latter, and Crispin promises to feed the little guy well!

Lacey

Unown are small, simple, and make trilling noises...all checking off her criteria of "cute" Pokémon!

Although knowing they're connected to Arceus--the literal god of all 'mons--is an unnerving fact, she agrees that they're adorable and deserve to be treated as such.

She gets to learn your team's different natures, and likes how you're trying to convince people that they're not as scary as the old legends present them.

They love nuzzling up to you, resting on your shoulder and/or head, twirling around, and playing with the local Minior.

That being said..Lacey gets shocked at the punch they pack during battle, with them using Poison or Steel-based Hidden Power to take down her fairies.

It's always the most unsuspecting Pokémon who are the most powerful.

Even if you worry about the battle being boring since all you can give out is one command, she's gonna turn your pessimistic thinking around!

Unown F is her favorite since it's looks like a stick figure, but Unown L is also pretty neat..yet she wonders why Unown ? and Unown ! look tired all the time...

When you trade her a letter/symbol, she's thrilled to welcome yet another cute Pokémon onto her team!

Amarys

Considering their affiliations with ruins and Arceus, the existence of Unown have always piqued her interest.

And you so-happened to be a walking encyclopedia of anything related to the Symbol Pokémon, given the journals you've written on their mannerisms.

Amarys likes reading them over, and thinks a quiz involving the Unown Alphabet would be good to have at BB Academy.

On the other hand, after your battle to climb the League rankings, she wonders if you've ever used other Pokémon..only to find out that you never did.

All you know are Unowns.

She won't force you to change your team members, seeing as they were able to beat ALL of the league members--including Kieran.

But she suggests you had one Unown use Hidden Power on its battle partner, who could hold onto a Weakness Policy.

Yet you're adamant, saying "why would I want one Unown to hurt the other just for a temporary attack boost? :((("

Your team members are besties, your cuddle buddies..how could you do that to them???

Amarys is genuinely touched by how much you care for your Unowns, and vice versa.

Speaking of which, Unown A started hanging around her more often..and she cautiously tries to pet it, surprised by its happy trills, but otherwise acts nonchalant.

When you both decide to trade, you give her that Unown and she promises to look after it.

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matan4il · 4 months

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It's very interesting that anti-Zionists claim to be "anti-colonial" given the arguments I routinely see them use against Jews. For years, I've seen them use full scale blood quantum arguments, for one. Most recently, now that we're fully in "Jesus was a Palestinian" season again, I saw a famous economist claim that "Jesus is genetically closer to Palestinians, (particularly Christians) than to Israelis (0 connection to most groups)," which is false to begin with.

Personally, I'm very sensitive to this kind of argument because I'm a ger. These people go after Jews like us very hard because to them we have the wrong DNA and thus undermine Jewish indigeneity, peoplehood, and history. Even if they concede the genetic evidence of born Jews' ancestral origins, they still point at gerim and any of our descendants as the "fake Jews" who don't belong… anywhere, actually. We don't belong in Israel because we're "foreign interlopers," and we don't belong outside of Israel because we had the gall to become Jews.

It's one type of antisemitism I can't seem to numb myself toward.

Hi Nonnie! Thank you for the ask, and my apologies about how long it's taking me to reply these days. Real life is not currently kind... :(

Okay, I had to roll my eyes so hard at that propaganda lie about Jesus. (found the economist in question, love it when someone who is living as a colonizer on stolen Native American land, has the audacity to goysplain a Jewish man to Jews, who support Jewish native rights. There really is no end to how much Jews just don't count to such people, is there?)

And it really is remarkable how many things he could get wrong in just that one part of his tweet...

Jesus was not a Palestinian, he was a Jew.

If you traveled back in time, and wanted to ask him about being Palestinian, you wouldn't be able to speak to Jesus in Arabic, which is the language of the Palestinians as Arabs, you would have to speak to him in either Hebrew or Aramaic (which is so close to ancient Hebrew, that I can speak some Aramaic simply by virtue of being a native Hebrew speaker) for him to understand you. Because he was a Jew.

If you did speak to Jesus in Hebrew or Aramaic, and asked him about being Palestinian, he wouldn't know what you're talking about, because the Romans would only rename the land Provincia Syria Palaestina in 136 AD, over 100 years after his death. Calling Jesus Palestinian is like saying that Chief Powhatan (probably best known as Pocahontas' father) was a Virginian, just because he was born and lived on territory that would later become Virginia. It's anachronistic, blatantly untrue, and totally imposing colonialist inventions on native people.

To the best of my knowledge NO ONE has dug up Jesus' DNA to compare it to ANY group. This is how you can tell that when he gets to that part, this guy is just blatantly making propaganda up.

Israelis are not one group, but Israeli Jews do test close to other Middle Eastern groups, and closest to other Jewish groups from around the world.

I guess, why settle for one bit of bullshit, when you can go for five?

I find it so interesting that you used the term "blood quantum." For non-Americans, who may not know it, here's a short introduction:

A person's Blood Quantum is the fraction of their ancestors, out of their total ancestors, who are documented as full-blood Native Americans. The blood quantum policy was first implemented by the federal government within tribes to limit native citizenship. However, since 1934, tribes were granted the authority/ability to create their own enrollment qualifications.

I find it interesting, because I keep thinking Jews and First Nations have so much in common, as native peoples. I remember coming across at least two different stories of people being adopted into Native American tribes. Obviously, each first nation has its own rules about it, before and after the colonization of America, but the point is... there is room for someone to become a member of the tribe, not based on blood. Most of the time, membership of the tribe IS based on ancestry, but it isn't limited to that. Some people come and live with the tribe, adopt its customs and way of life, emerge themselves in the values and heritage, embrace its spiritual beliefs, become a member of this community, and then they are adopted in. It's the same with Jews. Most of us are born Jewish, some of us choose to live this lifestyle, embrace the customs, beliefs and culture, go to synagogue, get to know the community, and eventually adopt and are adopted by it. That's the thing. Converting to Judaism isn't just changing your belief system. It's joining a tribe, and changing one's identity through this process of mutual adoption. Converts to Judaism don't take away ANYTHING from the native rights of Jews. On the contrary, this process of conversion is so different to when someone moves from one religion to another (think of how much simpler baptism is, to the long journey of converting to Judaism), precisely because Judaism isn't just a religion, unlike Christianity and Islam. It is an entire, intricate identity that combines multiple aspects, as all ancient, native identities do.

And in this context, think of Americans who are mostly of European descent, and have nothing to do with Native American culture, or way of life, but they can point to having an "exotic" great great great grandfather, who was a Native American chief. From what I've gathered, they would not be considered members of the tribe by most Native American nations. But the person who lives with the tribe, and shares its ways and its fate? That person is recognized as such by the tribe members.

Jews are the same. We are not native just because our ancestors are from Israel. We are also native, because we are the people who have preserved that Israelite identity. We have carried its torch, and passed it on along the generations, and we have shared our light with those, who chose to stand with us, to share our ways, our fate, and the consequences of the horrible hatred aimed at us.

I love you, my fellow tribe member. Thank you for sharing the light, and the burden, together! *sending so much love* xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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old-school-butch · 2 months

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‘But you misunderstand my argument - I don't actually think Israel is a decolonization project - I was responding to claims that Hamas' action is some form of resistance to 'settler colonialism' which, since Judaism as a faith is indigenous to the region, is nonsense.’

Except it’s not nonsense at all. The Zionist project was conceived to be a settling of the European Jewry in Palestine initially. No other groups who make claims to their people having lived in a place in the past to justify this kind of state building are taken seriously, nor would they be. This would be like the Roma population going to north India and attempting to set up a state by displacing the locals. They are genetically and ancestrally tied to that land, so why not them, too? Shall we all go back to where our ancestors of a couple centuries, even millennia in many cases, originated from? Is that the logic we defer to to decide what is and what isn’t settler colonialism?

"The Zionist project was conceived to be a settling of the European Jewry in Palestine initially"

The struggle for Jewish self-government goes back a liiiiiittle further than that. Maybe you've not read the Bible but you can track a straight line between 'the LORD said unto Moses, go in unto Pharaoh, and tell him, thus saith the LORD God of the Hebrews, let my people go' to 'By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion." which happened when the Bablyonian Empire rolled into town. Another four? five? empires later you finally have the Hasmoneansn and Maccabeans self-governments weakening under Roman rule and finally the fall of the second Temple era. Which led to approximately another 2000 years of attempting to return to Zion. But Jews remained living in the area the entire time, the goal of Zion is self-government, to create a nation safe for the Jewish people.

"No other groups who make claims to their people having lived in a place in the past to justify this kind of state building are taken seriously"

What do you think is happening in Myanmar? What do you think Nunavut self-government is about in Canada? The idea of a homeland is pretty old, but modern American politics has an overly simplified view of land claims - either you can prove you were the first humans there ever or you're a settler/colonist who doesn't deserve to be there.

Except when it's about Jews in Israel. When I point out that by this logic Jews have an old erclaim to the region than the later Arabian colonizers, then I'm told the history is either too old and doesn't count, or not real because there's no documentation going that far back in history, or the (actually far more realistic) argument there are a number of ethnic groups and religions that can track extremely long timelines in the same general region because the story of human history is older than our ability to write it down. So I agree with your last point, that while there are obvious impacts of colonialism and conquest, it gets really absurd to imagine that the only place anyone really belongs is wherever they're from 'originally'.

Anyway, Israel has only recently hardened its stance and officially became a 'Jewish state' - 20% of the population are Muslim and many Druze, Bedouin, Circassians and Christians live within its borders. I'm not happy about this recent change and I'm sure those minorities are not as well.

I'd characterize the Arab-Israeli conflict as mostly religious in nature, at its core, not ethnic or even territorial. Islamism is a trans-national movement with the goal of creating a caliphate as a super-state, something the surrounding Arab states find increasingly alarming as they search for stability, but they are content to let it grow in Palestine as long as Israel remains the focus of their grievances. If Israel ever falls, do you think there would be peace in the region? I don't. Look at the wall Egypt is building on their border with Gaza.

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 2 years

Text

Reaching For The Cloud Layer

Series: A Study In Spite || Part Two

Word Count: 10,500 (I aimed for 5,000 and missed.)

Summary: Kol Mikaelson takes you on a coffee date and it's nothing like you could have expected... But maybe that's not such a bad thing. || Kol x reader || Here lies my Masterlist

Warnings: More disrespect for parents??? Oh, also Kol being Kol. But mostly just fluffy fluff!

A/N: Sorry guys, part two of the Elijah fic is taking longer than expected. There was an error with the document so that just sucks. (Forgive me, I'm working with a 2013 laptop I got for free at a junk sale.)

☕STORY BEGINS BELOW ☕

Your alarm went off at seven thirty in the morning - an atrocity as far as you were concerned, seeing as you had already graduated high school, thus ridding yourself of any reason to get up before ten. Though, why anyone else would bother to set your alarm clock was beyond you so you must have been the one to orchestrate such a crime.

What in the blue cheese had you been thinking?

Eh, you’d figure it out later - after another four hours of sleep at the very least. Though you wouldn’t be able to get any of those hours if that awful alarm kept up its racket.

The sheer willpower it took to fling your arm over and smack the annoying thing was rather awe-inspiring. Unfortunately for you, however; it tumbled off the nightstand and rolled across the floor, continuing its obnoxious screeching. Now, you actually had to get up in order to silence the infernal device. You did so with a groan, rolling your only partially animated corpse out of bed only to land face-first on the floor with an unceremonious thump.

Life sucks.

Crawling over to where the alarm clock had rolled to a stop, you smacked the dismiss button and sighed in relief at the blessed silence that followed. Then you collapsed to the floor with every intention to pass out right on the spot. Why had you ever set an alarm for yourself in the first place? What a stupid-

Oh, yeah…

That’s right.

You had a date.

A coffee date with the psychotic prince of hell. How frickin’ outstanding. So, the better question was not why you had set the alarm, but rather why you had agreed to such an outing in the first place. You definitely won the World's Biggest Idiot award for the day.

Well, at least it was only a coffee date, you assured yourself as you scraped your useless heap of limbs off the floor and redirected them into the bathroom. You had showered the night before - thank heaven - so you just needed to change and arrange your face into something that looked remotely human. As you did that, you thought over your survival strategy.

After having arranged the aforementioned coffee date - and regretting it almost immediately - you had spent the better part of your night knee-deep in research. If you were going to do something stupid then it was probably better to be informed about it, right? So, you had scoured both your ancestor's journals for any information you could find about the bloodthirsty demon who would be buying your cup of joe.

In the end, you had come up with distressingly little. There wasn't too much anyone actually knew about the silver-tongued monster you had agreed to spend your morning with, but you did know three things for certain.

You could not, under any circumstance, depend on Kol Mikaelson to do anything. Namely, to refrain from murdering you.

If he chose to end your life, there would be nothing you could do to stop him.

At the very least - and that is to say, only when push comes to absolute shove - Kol Mikaelson was a man of his word. Which really only meant he was insanely good at exploitation.

You cringed, shivering as you realized just how close to the Twilight premise your internal monologue had just come. Disgusting.

Anyway, you were - in the words of the t-shirt you had decided to wear beneath your sweater - Shitte Kneedeep Inn and sinking quickly. As you got ready, you debated in your mind any possible strategies you could use to get out of your commitment. (You had a feeling that telling him you had changed your mind might not go over too well. He would probably convince you to go with him anyway.)

After about fifteen minutes, you had successfully applied enough make-up to look less dead and had narrowed down your options to simply ending the date as fast as possible, when your younger brother stumbled into the bathroom to get ready for school. Mystic Falls Middle started at nine - lucky kid. Yet, he was still dead on his feet, much like you.

You turned to him. “Hey, my dude. Welcome to the land of the living. Quick, what would happen if I straight chugged a cup of coffee fresh outta the machine with no regard for my fragile mortality?” You quizzed, watching him expectantly.

He stared at you for a moment, trying to remember how to replicate the speech of a fully functional human being. “Uh, pretty sure it’d get you dead,” He said. You made a somewhat rude noise and went back to braiding your hair. After a few more minutes spent trying to wake up, your brother seemed to notice that you were there instead of in bed where you normally were at such a time during the week. “Wait, where’re you goin’, stupid-sauce?” He yawned, blinking at the offensive light of the bathroom vanity.

You grimaced. “I’ve got a date.”

“Mom an’ dad are letting you go on dates now?” The kid tilted his head. “Since when?”

“Since never,” You mumbled.

“Are you sneaking out?”

“No.”

“Are you gonna pretend to go to a friend’s house?”

“No.”

“Are you gonna sneak him in here?” Y/B/N asked, brows raised in confusion that bordered on being impressed.

You gawked at him. “Wha- No!” You shook your head and sighed. “He’s taking me out for coffee and I’m going to make sure mom and dad see it. They need to start acknowledging my life choices.”

Even if those life choices are positively dunce-cap worthy, you thought.

“Ooohhhhhh, Y/N/N’s in loooooooove,” He mocked in a high-pitched voice, waggling his eyebrows at you. “Who is he?”

“Just some guy,” You muttered, shrugging. Your brother didn’t know about the supernatural yet, and you intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. You hated lying to him though.

“Well, is he hot?”

Your cheeks reddened against your will. It wasn’t your fault! For a blood-sucking leach, Kol was pretty freaking gorgeous. “Kinda.”

"Hey, HEY!" He sobered in an instant. “Mom and dad are gonna kill you, ya’ know,” He said as he flicked off the lights and followed you downstairs.

“I know.”

“Five bucks says they’re waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.”

He was quick to position himself behind you as you sauntered into the kitchen. The two of you had been right. Sitting at the kitchen table with breakfast set out in front of them while they awaited your arrival, were your mother and father. You slapped a very fake smile onto your face and pulled out your chair.

“I just wanna say that I have no association with this woman whatsoever,” Your younger brother announced, moving to sit as well.

“We’re not mad at your sister, sweetie. We just want to have a little talk, is all,” Your mother said, patting his arm. You rolled your eyes but then she turned her attention to you. “Now, Y/N. I know you feel like your father and I have been really hard on you recently, but that’s only because we love and care about you so much. We just want you to have the best life you possibly can.”

“You mean the life you want me to live - the one where I do everything you want me to and nothing else,” You surmised, nodding. “Yeah that sounds like a lot of bull-crap.”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” Your father warned. “We’re not trying to argue with you.”

“O’course not.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yeah, you just want me to give up and roll over, right?"

“That's not true, we-”

“Oh, yeah!” You pretended as though you suddenly remembered something. “You do want me to fight! You want me to fight so I can live up to your le-” You hesitated, catching your near slip up before something very bad happened. “Er, dreams because you think you can’t.”

Your mother frowned, reaching for your hand but you drew it away. “Y/N…” She entreated. “We understand that you want to make your own choices. But you have responsibilities to consider and we just want you to be safe.”

“Wow.” You blinked slowly. “Man, y’all make it sound like I’m trying to get sexually active or something.” Yeah, that’s right. You had graduated high school without ever having done the devil’s tango with some underage jock with no respect for you or your body.

Your little brother pretended to gag.

“This is not how we raised our children to talk,” Your father said. You just rolled your eyes, though he didn’t take very kindly to that. “Oh, really? You wanna roll your eyes at me? That’s fine! You’re grounded for the rest of the day!”

You opened your mouth just as the doorbell rang.

He was here. Suddenly that didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

You smirked. “Try telling that to the guy at the door.”

Watching the color drain from your parent’s faces as their heads turned towards the door brought you more joy than it should have. Your mother composed herself first, which was quite a surprise seeing as she was usually the skittish one in your family.

“Y/N… please tell me that’s not what I think it is.” She strained to keep her voice calm, though you couldn’t help but notice that she still said what instead of who - even in front of your little brother. Y/B/N didn’t notice however, he was too busy devouring his pancakes.

“Do you want to go get it or should I?” You asked, leaning forward with the same smugly challenging smile you had seen Kol use on your parents at his family’s ball. The one that dared them to break the status quo. You held the withering glares of both your parents for what felt like ten minutes but was probably only one. It wasn’t that you liked disobeying them - they just needed to acknowledge that you weren’t a child anymore. A sharp rapping, that of a fist on wood came from the door. “Better decide quick.” You leaned back in your seat. “I don’t think he’s gonna knock again.”

“What’s he gonna do?” Your little brother wondered, looking up from his pancakes curiously.

“Hard to say,” You answered, somewhat honestly. “The bastard’s committed.”

The squeal of your father’s chair against the kitchen tile just made your smirk widen as he got up and moved for the hall closet where he kept his shotgun. The thing had been loaded ever since the council had gotten confirmation that vampires had returned to Mystic Falls.

“Really?” You scoffed. “That’s what you’re gonna do about this? Man, you guys are more committed to your egos than I thought.”

You stood to follow after your father, shaking off your mother’s hand when she reached out to stop you. Your father cocked the shotgun and pulled the front door open, quick to point the barrel straight into the face of the boy standing on the step.

Kol Mikaelson grinned, but it didn’t look like an expression of happiness in any form. It looked like a threat, like the bared teeth of a vicious predator about to tear out the throat of a lesser, puny, scurrying, little lamb.

“Good morning,” He greeted. His tone was perfectly polite - friendly even - it didn’t match his expression as he pushed the barrel of your father’s gun out of his face with one finger. You could see your father’s muscles straining. He was a deputy on the police force of Mystic falls and he was exerting all his might to fight back, but he was no match and Kol clearly wasn’t even trying. He acted as though this were perfectly normal and your parents had no idea what he was. “I don’t know if your daughter told you, but I’m supposed to be taking her for coffee… right about now actually. Is she ready?" He grinned boyishly. "If not, you can always invite me in to wait.”

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” Your father growled, teeth grinding.

Kol leaned forward, lowering his voice. Your brother in the kitchen wouldn’t hear.

“Yes, I am.”

His lips twisted into that smug smile. The one you’d learned from him.

Your mother caught your shoulder, whirling you around to face her. The expression on her face bordered on hysterical, her eyes as wide as saucers. “So this is where you were yesterday?” She hissed. “You were with that thing?”

“Yes, she was, Mrs. L/N,” Kol replied for you. He turned his head to stare directly at your mother, bearing his teeth. “We had quite the lovely afternoon. Didn’t we, darling?” His eyes flicked to you and he made no effort to hide the lust in his eyes as he raked them up and down your body. You curled your lip in utter disgust until he sent you two quick winks. Then you caught on.

You shrugged, playing along. "I mean, if you pestering me for two hours straight is what you consider fun, then yeah."

He chuckled, shrugging innocently. "Fair enough, love. Are you ready to go?"

"More than ready," You replied, moving towards the door. Your father blocked your path, glaring daggers at you.

"You are not leaving this house."

You stared him down. "Outta my way… dad." He'd stopped being your dad as soon as he'd started seeing you as his soldier.

"No." He spat. "No, you're not going with this lunatic."

"Oh, yeah?" You sneered, gesturing towards Kol. "Well, l'll invite this lunatic inside right now if you don't move.”

His complexion paled. Then his mouth pressed into a thin line and he stepped out of your way. You had been positive he would put up more of a fight.

Your foot crossed the threshold of the door and you heard your mother gasp as you moved to stand next to Kol. Turning back to your parents, you met your father’s icy expression with a thin smile.

Your father nodded. "I hope you're happy with where that choice leaves you.”

“I’m sure she will be,” Kol chimed in, grinning as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you in against his side. He twisted a lock of your hair around his finger and you did your best not to flinch as the boy - no, not boy, vampire - leaned in close and traced his lips along your cheek in the lightest, sweetest, kiss possible. To your surprise… it wasn’t actually that bad. You couldn’t help the blush that stained your cheeks. Kol’s lips were really soft and warmer than you thought those of a reanimated corpse should have been. You almost wanted him to do it again… almost. “You look exquisite this morning, darling,” He murmured into your ear. The smirk that adorned his lips was downright sinful as he pulled away from you, inhaling deeply and squeezing your shoulders with a voracious hum. “And you smell like a treat,” He added, just loud enough for your parents to hear.

You tried your best to play along, withholding the grimace that wanted to make its way onto your face. Every time you started to like him just the smallest fraction, he went and did something like that. You knew he was acting to infuriate your parents but was it all just acting, or was there some truth to his words?

You rolled your eyes. “Yes the first and thanks to the second, but it’s gonna have to be a hard no on that last one,” You said, passing him a very fake smile.

He grinned. “Three pints says I can make it a yes by the end of the day.”

You were going to brush him off but something stopped you. Honestly, if you were going down the warpath of stupid for the day, why not travel the whole way down it? Even if you lost the bet, it wasn’t like losing three pints of blood would kill you.

“You know what? I think I’ll take that bet,” You decided, meeting his eyes. “You’re on, Mikaelson.”

For a split second, you caught his genuine reaction. Surprise mainly… but there was a hint of excitement buried beneath it that reminded you once again of just how little you could trust him.

“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises.” Then he covered that all back up with his cheeky, dangerous smirk, turning back to your parents whose expressions held nothing but disgust. “Anyway, we’ll just be getting out of your hair now - after all, I’d hate to overstay my welcome. But don’t worry, I’ll have her back here…” Kol pretended to debate it with himself, and shrugged. “Eh, sometime later. I’m not sure yet, we’ll see what happens. Though, I’m sure that when I bring her back, you will receive your daughter with open arms, yes?”

“Keep her for all I care,” Your father snorted, shaking his head. “She’s no daughter of mine. Not anymore.”

Kol hissed. “Sorry, mate - wrong answer.” He leaned forward again, lowering his voice to a mutter. “Why don’t you try again, and this time remember that these walls you live in are brilliantly flammable under the right conditions.”

“You’re despicable.” Your mother’s voice trembled but Kol just shrugged happily.

“Aren’t I just?” He turned his eyes back on your father, the dangerous gleam in them never fading for a second. “I do hope your answer changes by the time we get back, otherwise I’d advise fleeing the state.”

Then he turned away, urging you to move with him as he descended the steps of your front porch. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, he could barely contain the smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. As soon as the door slammed shut behind you, Kol threw his head back and laughed. His arm around your shoulders tightened some and you went along with it because you knew your parents were still watching from the windows.

Reluctantly, you admitted, Kol had a nice laugh. It was one of those laughs that are just so genuine, that you simply can’t help but join in. A grin tempted your lips and you let yourself succumb to it, basking in the election that flooded your soul as you realized that you could do whatever you wanted now. You could do anything. You were free! So, you laughed.

“Did you see their faces?” Kol exclaimed. His hand moved down your arm and back up in a familiarly affectionate motion. You didn’t stop him because you sort of liked it. “Your father especially, his was priceless! Bloody hell, now I wish I had a picture.”

You huffed a laugh, nodding your agreement.

It was the oddest thing - just how quickly his entire demeanor changed as soon as it was only you who could see him. It made you wonder which side of him was the act. Perhaps they both were.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to take one for you when I get back,” You chuckled. “So are we walking to get coffee, or…”

“Nah.” Kol tilted his head, gesturing towards the road. You glanced in said direction and the laughter died in your throat.

Of course, he rode to your house on a motorcycle.

You turned back to him. “I’m not getting on that thing.”

“Relax, darling!” He grinned. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Not as far as I could chuck your corpse,” You deadpanned. "Which isn't very far, all things considered."

"How gracious of you."

"You're welcome."

Kol rolled his eyes. "It's just for show, love. I parked my car about a kilometer away. Besides, I can hear your mother ranting about it already, just let your parents see you get on."

You pulled away to evaluate him. "You really are a pro at this, aren't you?"

“We all have our hobbies.” He shrugged. From off the back of the bike, he picked up a helmet and offered it to you. “My lady?”

You huffed a laugh and took the helmet from him, pulling it on over your head. The visor, you noted after flicking it down, was tinted Y/F/C and the outside was mirrored. You sent the boy a thumbs up and he grinned. Watching Kol climb onto the bike really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was but once he was on there you realized that the seat was much smaller than you had thought. You would be sitting really close.

“Any day now, darling,” He drawled.

Rolling your eyes, you straddled the bike, keeping yourself as far away from him as possible. Heat rushed to your face but you did your best to ignore it.

“Okay, I’m on,” You huffed.

“You might want to hold onto something,” The boy advised without looking back. You could hear the smirk in his voice. Bastard. You delicately placed your hands on his shoulders. It was frustrating because all your brain could seem to think about was how he had looked at you earlier - the sensation of his lips ghosting over your skin. Kol glanced at you over his shoulder, raising a brow pointedly at the feather-light grip you kept. “That is an excellent way to fall off.”

He didn’t say anything else. No, that passive-aggressive bastard just kicked up the stand and started adjusting the mirrors.

You clenched your jaw, sighing heavily. You were going to have to do it, weren’t you? The very thing you had been dreading. You were going to have to do it.

Despite every single neuron in your brain screaming that you shouldn’t, you leaned forward and wound your arms around his waist. His reflection in the mirrors bit back a smirk.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

He just laughed, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, darling.” It startled you just how human the expression on his face seemed.

“You’re just loving this, aren’t you?” You grumbled.

“Little bit, yeah.”

He released the clutch, revved the throttle, and the bike launched forward. You had to squeeze his waist to avoid being thrown off and you knew that the high pitch scream of sheer unadulterated terror that sprung from you would only supply him more ammo with which to mock you later.

Stirred into tiny tornadoes by the bike's crisp wake, hundreds of autumn leaves danced around you in the air. The helmet shielded your face from the wind as it whipped around you, attacking your clothes and hair with a ferociousness that, combined with the insane and dangerous, yet ever-increasing velocity at which you were tearing down the quiet, deserted streets of Mystic Falls, ignited something within you. A spark - a passion for life you hadn't felt for far too long - bloomed inside your chest, pushing outward and demanding freedom. The scream in your throat morphed into a laugh, equal parts thrilled and hysterical. Something bright and spectacular flooded your veins and you sat up a little straighter, letting the tension you'd felt brewing in your bones for so long finally find its release in the holler of glee that burst out of you as the sun bathed your skin and the crisp air of a fading summer pushed through your lungs.

Then came the turn.

Kol put up no pretenses of hitting the brakes before rounding a corner; he took it at full speed, leaning into the turn with all the caution of a daredevil. You shrieked, clutching onto him tighter than you would have ever thought yourself capable of, though he didn't exactly seem to mind. Despite the rush of the wind in your ears, you could still catch the laughter that escaped his lips.

The bike’s sudden halt when he applied the brakes was only slightly less jarring than a collision with a brick wall. It tossed you into Kol’s back, though that couldn’t exactly do much seeing as your entire body was already wrapped around him as tight as was humanly possible. Your heart pounded against your rib cage, your blood buzzed like soda in your veins, and you could feel every muscle trembling. Yet, for the first time in over a year, that twisting in your gut didn’t feel like fear. It felt like elation and you felt powerful. Life finally felt worth paying attention to.

“We’ve stopped moving,” Kol informed you gently. You felt him place his hand over yours which were still clutching onto him for dear life. He ran that hand up and down your forearm comfortingly, trailing his fingertips along your skin and the air around you wasn’t cold enough to be the culprit of the tingling flesh they left behind. “Darling?”

The concern in his tone sounded genuine. Something about it made the grin on your cheeks split wider, knowing he couldn’t see. Because it sounded so real and human and somehow that idea didn’t seem so impossible anymore. Nothing did.

“Yeah, yeah, I know… I’m good!” You assured him with a laugh. “Jus’need’a… Just need a second. Just need to-to catch my breath.”

“Are you sure?” He laughed along with you and your cheeks blazed a shade warmer as you felt him tangle his fingers with yours. Kol was a vampire - you struggled to remember that - and you shouldn’t have liked what he was doing. The way he touched you shouldn’t have been as thrilling as your first time riding a motorcycle, but it was. You shouldn’t have liked it, but you did.

Kol’s touch was like mentos and soda.

Fizzy, sweet, ill-considered fun.

“I honestly cannot move my limbs right now,” You cackled, gloriously, brilliantly mad with excitement.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Kol groaned teasingly. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those clingy girlfriends.”

You grinned and finally managed to detach one arm from around his midsection so you could smack him on the shoulder. “Oh, gimme a break! It’s my first time on one of these crazy death contraptions,” You said as you climbed off the bike, walking around it to lean against the hood of a convertible that had to be his. Kol followed, somehow managing to keep his grip on your hand as he did. He held your hand so gently, almost as if he hoped you would forget he had it and just maybe, you thought, it might be okay for him to keep it for a little longer. “And don’t act like you didn’t love every second of that.”

He shrugged, smirking. “I do love listening to your heart race.” The smile he offered you was astoundingly youthful - flirtatious, but not the least bit sinister. "Coffee?"

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, weirdo."

Once you were in the car, driving with the top down, you were quick to notice the direction he was taking you. He missed every turn that would lead him to one of Mystic Falls' less than stellar coffee shops and rather took the road out of town, onto the freeway. Not exactly a good notion to start the day off with but you didn't feel like being outrageously paranoid just yet.

"The closest coffee shops were back there," You pointed out. The wind roared in your ears and you had to shout to be heard over it. "Ya missed 'em."

He smirked. "I know."

You laughed dryly. "You are kidnapping me, aren’t you? I knew it."

"Come now, darling," The boy drawled, flashing you a smile. "Have a little faith in me."

"Mmmm… nah."

Some other people might have found the need to shout over the wind annoying, but you simply enjoyed it. People had been berating you to be quiet your whole life, and though you knew Kol would have been able to hear you regardless of the wind, he never told you off. He just shouted along with you.

After an hour of driving, he pulled up to the window of a quaint little coffee shop in a town even smaller than yours. Despite not knowing the town by name, you knew where you were. Surrounding you was the epic grandeur of the Shenandoah mountain range. The town was one of a few much like it, located at the foot of the mountains, just outside the national park.

After getting your coffee and two muffins, Kol continued on the main road and turned off at the gate to the park. He actually paid to get in which surprised you, though you said nothing of it. As he took the turn onto the famous Skyline Drive, you couldn’t help the creepings of suspicion that began to overtake you. Checking your phone, the flashing symbol that warned of your lack of signal seemed to glare almost mockingly.

“You’re not taking me all the way up here to kill me right?” You asked, attempting to keep the nerves out of your voice by sheer force of will. “I mean, I know you keep asking me to trust you and all… but I’m having kind of a hard time here.”

“Why is that?” He hummed.

Despite your efforts, your nervous laugh did not escape his attention. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, Kol. There’s no cell phone service out here. Great way to make sure I can’t call for help.”

The boy paused for a moment, blinking. “Alright, I’m going to be completely honest - I hadn’t thought about that until you brought it up.”

You huffed. “Right.”

“No, really,” He claimed, holding his hands up defensively. Then he frowned, seeming somewhat confused. “You can’t make calls from here?”

“Nope,” You said, flashing him a view of your phone’s screen and the warning displayed thereon. “No cell service, no calls.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty simple.”

The boy just shrugged. “I don’t know how cell phones work,” He admitted with an innocent expression that you tried to be annoyed by. You weren’t though. He was just… cute. Just cute.

“Well, how do I know that?” You wondered, though your tone was more playful than it had been.

Kol scoffed. “Now, now. I don’t think you’re being entirely fair here, darling.”

“I’m being completely fair!” You countered. “It’s not my fault that literally everything you’ve done this morning has been completely sketchy.”

“Sketchy?” His nose crinkled up and you couldn’t help noticing how cute it was. “What about this is sketchy?” The car slowed and he pulled it into a parking space at an overlook just off the Drive, motioning for you to get out.

“Uh, everything?”

“Ah! Not good enough!,” He insisted. “I want examples.” You went to grab the drinks and muffins but he took them from your hands, shrugging when you sent him a questioning look. “You’re going to want to have your hands free,” He explained.

You raised a brow incredulously but shook your head a moment later. Smirking, you started counting off on your fingers. “Well, there’s that, first of all. I mean, how is that not sketchy?”

“Wha- Because it’s not!”

“Uh, huh… Let’s see then…” You pretended to think as you followed him towards a picnic table in the main overlook area. “You took me on a motorcycle - actual stereotype sketchy move.”

“That was for show and therefore invalid,” He interrupted. “Continue.”

“You took me out of town without anybody knowing, including me.”

“That’s called a surprise, love!” He claimed, rolling his eyes. “Bloody hell, woman. Have you never had a birthday?”

“No, I’ve had them. I just don’t like surprises,” You claimed, placing your hands on your hips.

He shot you a very smug, very knowing look. “You’re a liar.”

“No, I’m not,” You said. Having reached the picnic table, you aimed to take a seat but Kol placed a hand on your elbow. His touch couldn’t have been more gentle - it was the lightning it sent racing over your skin that caused you to jump. Instantly, he forced a smile and pulled his hand away. Yet, you felt yourself missing it.

“We’re, um, we’re not stopping here.” He pressed his lips together and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

Kol was a vampire - you shouldn’t have wanted him to touch you. But when he looked at you with that twinge of disappointment in his eyes, there was a feeling in your stomach and it wasn’t the churning sensation of disgust. With that gentle touch and youthful charm, he was someone you could see yourself caring about if only he were human. But he wasn’t.

Kol was a vampire - a despicable, soulless monster. You repeated that to yourself. Yet every time you struggled to remember it, you found yourself believing it a little less. Honestly, you didn’t want to. You didn’t want your worst fears about the boy next to you to be confirmed. Part of you did because that would be easy. It would be easy to write him off as nothing more than a monster. But what if he wasn’t? What if he really could make you happy?

“Oh…” You followed him over to a tiny footpath. The thing was hardly a foot and a half wide and it was steep, with rocks as pseudo steps, some of which dropped two feet, only adding to the decline. The end was made invisible by the thick foliage that encompassed it. You blinked and flicked your eyes from the path to Kol, to the path, and back, before fixing on the path. You pointed. “That looks like an excellent way to die.”

Kol laughed. “I assure you, darling, it’s perfectly safe.”

“Perfectly safe?” You questioned, crossing your arms. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to kill me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you know better then, eh?” He grinned cheekily.

You frowned. “By if I didn’t know better, I meant I do not, in fact, know better.”

“I would argue otherwise,” The boy said with a subtle smirk.

“I bet you would.”

He just shrugged, spreading his hands. “Seeing as all your points against me have thus far been proven invalid, the way I see it, you have no reason not to trust me.”

“First of all, Mr. Mikaelson, that’s a subjective statement,” You pointed out. “Second, I do my research, and none of it faired to your credibility. Third, if this right here isn’t the sketchiest thing ever, then I don’t know what is.”

He nodded, smirking in amusement as he leaned back on his heels. Something about it made the butterflies in your stomach take off. “Well, Miss. L/N, to your first point, somewhere deep, deep down, everybody likes surprises and that’s a fact. Second, biased research of biased accounts does not a fact make - and yes, I am aware of just how spectacularly that statement backfired as I said it. Lastly, I can think of much sketchier things than a hiking trail.”

“Well… okay.” You had to bite your tongue to withhold the snicker that threatened to escape.

“Don’t laugh at me, I’m an original,” He warned, playfully nudging your shoulder.

“I’m definitely not laughing.”

“Really?” Kol rubbed his lip, doing his best to fight a smile as well. You felt warmer at the sight. “Do explain your point then,” He said.

“You really expect me to go down there with no safety railing, no clue what's waiting for me at the bottom, and not but your word that you won’t shove me to my death and claim it was an accident?” You surmised, raising a brow. “You can’t be serious.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Safety railings are for the incompetent, we die like lemmings and for your information, there’s a rocky outcropping - a cliff if you will - waiting at the bottom. Though, if I were to push you off it, I wouldn’t need to make it look like an accident.” Taking a couple of steps down the path, he smirked smugly and offered you his hand - the one that wasn’t holding the coffee and muffins. “I’ll say it again, darling. If I were going to kill you, that’s not how I would do it.”

You eyed his hand with no small measure of distrust. “You’re playing at something.” You narrowed your eyes and backed away. “What are you-”

“I’ll catch you.” He said. There was nothing but honesty in his eyes. Openhearted honesty. “Take my hand and if you trip, I’ll catch you. I would have offered as such from the beginning, but you seem to have an aversion to being touched by me.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. He just watched you and waited. It took a moment but you made your decision. You leveled a finger at him. “If you so much as-”

“I won’t let you fall,” Kol promised. His openness could only last so long, you supposed because a cheeky smile overtook his expression a moment later. “Well, unless it’s for me.”

You did your best to roll your eyes and ignore the bush that crept into your cheeks. Taking his hand, he gripped yours firmly and you took that first step. A pleasant fire spread up your arm with his touch. His hands seemed so soft and though you knew they were scarred with murder and deeds to evil to name, you couldn’t seem to find those scars as his thumb skimmed over the back of your hand and he whispered soft encouragements with each step you took. The ground was slightly slick from rain the previous night and as such, you slipped a few steps into the walk. Yet, Kol caught you and he kept his word. He didn’t let you fall.

When you reached the trail’s end, only one word escaped your lips.

“Wow…”

It was like something out of a movie. Layer after layer of mountains stretched off as far as the eye could see, one right after the other in an imperfect symmetry that was somehow just right. The vibrant colors of the trees made the valley in front of you seem as though it were on fire. Your vision was colored crimson and gold. Breathtaking isn’t a word strong enough to describe the view. You weren’t sure there was a word strong enough but you couldn’t think of one regardless, far too entranced by the exquisite majesty of the mountain range. You walked yourself to the edge of the cliff, not caring that there was nothing below you but a deadly fall. You just stood there, enamored by it all.

You didn’t hear Kol approach just behind you; yet, you didn’t jump when you felt his fingers begin delicately carding through your hair. He was close - too close - but somehow you didn’t mind. He must have set the drinks down somewhere because his other hand came to rest tentatively on your hip. You felt his breath on your neck - warmer than a dead boy’s should have been - but you didn’t flinch. Maybe you’d never quite understand why.

“Look up, darling,” Kol muttered softly. You did as you were told and gasped.

What had always been so far above you - so fascinating yet unattainable - was now just overhead. The ghostly wisps of the cloud layer skimmed over the mountain’s peaks, cascading down with the weight of the water they held. It was one of those half-rainy sorts of days. A little dreary, but that made it all the more beautiful. Those clouds drifted mere inches above you, swirling lazily in the cool breeze of fall. It was a scene out of your most wondrous daydream. What was it about today and making impossibilities a reality?

“They’re magnificent, aren’t they?” He whispered. You knew he must have felt it when you shuddered. “Would you like to touch them?”

Speaking felt wrong. If you spoke, you would surely break this spell. You would remember that Kol was a vampire and that he probably wanted to kill you and that this went against everything you had ever been told. But for once you didn’t want to care about any of that. For once, all you wanted was this moment and this boy to care about you like no one else ever had. So you didn’t speak. You just nodded.

His hand brushed over your shoulder and tugged on your sleeve just a little. There were butterflies taking off all throughout your body, even though there shouldn’t have been. You let out a shaking breath as his fingers skimmed leisurely down your arm - he took his sweet time as if to ensure you were forced to acknowledge every spark as he drew them from your skin. Tenderly, he wrapped his hand around your wrist and then guided you to reach high over your head. You came just inches from breaking the smooth white mist.

“I’m too short,” You mused, a little disappointed. "I don't think I can do it."

“I think you can,” Kol breathed against the shell of your ear. The boy’s grip on your wrist tightened just a fraction and the fingertips of his other hand followed, pressing into your hip just right. Your breathing hitched and your heart sped like a rabbit's. "Reach higher."

Stretching upward as much as you possibly could, you stood on your toes and fought the voice in your head that told you to go no further. As you did your fingers dipped into the swirling cloud and you just giggled. What kid doesn’t dream of touching the clouds? Now, that was a dream come true.

It wasn’t impossible. Maybe nothing was.

You grinned and your heart was racing. With your hand in a cloud and Kol's hands on you, the two of you just stood there for a bit. For whatever reason, you didn't mind his touch as much as you had before. It simply didn't feel as threatening. Perhaps it never had been. Maybe he wasn't lying. Maybe he really did want you.

Oh yeah, he wanted you all right… for lunch.

Your racing heartbeat stuttered in your chest a little as you remembered that little bet you had made earlier that morning and that look in his eyes as you had agreed to it. He'd looked so excited, so eager to rip into your throat.

Just like that, the spell was broken.

You yanked your hand from the cloud layer and fell back onto your heels. Whirling around, you faced him, wide-eyed and blinking rapidly. He seemed to realize that his time was up. There was another forced smile as he took his hands off you and backed away. You pushed past him wordlessly, bowing your head. Meeting his eyes seemed impossible with how hot your cheeks burned.

A smooth, flat rock that bore a remarkable resemblance to a bench stood a few feet away from the cliff's edge and you made a beeline towards it. That was where Kol had placed the drinks and muffins so you grabbed yours, letting them warm your hands as you took a deep breath.

Why had you let that boy - vampire - touch you like that? Why did you let him talk you into things that were so clearly stupid? You were wearing vervain, so logically you knew he couldn't be influencing your mind. But what other explanation was there? This wasn't like you. This wasn't normal!

Slowly and carefully so as not to startle you, Kol moved to sit by your side. You watched him like a hawk, clutching that cup in your hands as though it contained the cure to cancer and the CIA was hunting you down.

"Y/N," He called your name softly, but you just shook your head. Kol reached out and took your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles and you felt those sparks crackle and jump. You didn't want him to take his hand away but you couldn't understand why. "Y/N, I didn't mean to frighten you."

Why did you believe him?

"I know." You nodded and watched him carefully for a moment. “Can you do something for me?” You asked, near silently. You may have felt free and open to both new experiences and ideas, but that didn’t mean you were ready to be hurt.

Kol’s face fell and that genuine concern melted back into his eyes but it was a fake smile that made its way onto his lips. "If you want me to take you home, then I will. I won't make you stay with me if that isn't what you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. Your answer surprised him as much as it did you. “No, it’s not you, it’s just… This - what I’m doing right now - it’s crazy and it’s pretty stupid if I’m being honest and I’m very much aware of that…"

"I'd be concerned if you weren't," He said with a wry smile. The corners of your lips twitched up and you played with the soft strings of your sweater. His eyes flicked downward, distracted by the movement.

You couldn't believe you were about to say this. You opened your mouth.

"Kol, I-" The words got lodged in your throat. If you said them, you would be admitting something that would give him a dangerous amount of power over you. "I-I wan-"

He tucked a finger under your chin and lifted your head to look you in the eyes. "You can tell me what it is that you want, Y/N." He smiled and this time it wasn't forced but it was a little sad. "I will respect your wishes no matter how they may pain me."

That statement. That was important.

He shouldn't have been able to claim a thing like that. He wasn't supposed to be capable of decency, or morality.

So why was that more decent, more kind, and more moral than anything you'd ever heard out of the mouths of any of the so-called 'respectable' founder boys your parents had tried to set you up with? Tyler Lockwood certainly hadn't had that much respect for you - and you'd never even dated him! Kol was supposed to be evil so why wasn't he evil to you?

Why did you want to see how good he could be?

"I-I want to see what’s gonna happen," You admitted. "But I can’t just trust you on a whim. So before I go anywhere with you, I need you to promise me a couple things… and I need to know that you’ll keep those promises.”

The boy sighed. “Can’t blame you for being reasonable, can I?” He held your eyes for a moment, thinking. Then he tilted his head and his eyes gleamed with something mischievous as he leaned forward as if to tell you a secret. “Tell you what, I’ll promise you any three things you like if you’ll swear to me something in return for each one.”

"Three?"

He nodded. "Three."

If you did that, then you might have to open yourself up to thoughts you knew you shouldn’t.

“Okay,” You agreed.

Kol grinned. “Then name your terms, my lady.”

You didn't have to think about those for very long.

“Promise me your complete honesty.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Simple, really.” You took a breath, though it did nothing to calm your racing heart. “I want your complete transparent honesty all the time. I want you to tell me what you’re thinking and what your intentions are even if you think something might scare me off. I don’t want to be left guessing as to what, if any of this is real.”

“Fair enough.” The boy held your eyes. “You have my word if you’ll give me yours. I want the same. I want you to be honest even about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. I don’t want you hiding anything.”

You nodded. “I can do that. Promise me you’ll never hurt my little brother - that you’ll never try to manipulate him or compel someone else to harm him in any way.”

“Promise me you’ll do your best to put aside your prejudices and allow me a fair chance."

"To do what?"

"To earn a second date."

“Done.”

“Done.” No hesitation.

You pursed your lips and swallowed thickly, feeling a little lightheaded as you leaned away from him but not out of fear. Your voice dropped lower. “Promise me you’ll never hurt me.”

He nodded, tilting his head slightly as he watched you with eyes as soft and warm as autumn leaves. “I can’t promise that I’ll never say or do anything that hurts you, darling. However, I can promise that I’ll never try to cause you pain.” Your hair whipped around your face a bit due to the wind and the boy lifted a hand to sweep it back behind your shoulder. His touch was gentle and your cheeks reddened against your will. Resting it against the side of your neck, he brushed his thumb over your jaw as he studied you, his eyes flicking over your features. “Now, promise me that if the time ever arises when you trust me with your life, you won’t consider this promise broken should I want for something that scares you.”

You inhaled sharply. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I am,” He said, smiling dryly. “You asked for my honesty. I can’t promise you’ll always like it.” Slowly, Kol brought the hand he was holding to his lips and you tensed as he pressed a kiss against the pulse at the inside of your wrist. He met your eyes again and you got the point. “Although I may crave your blood, that doesn’t mean I want to hurt you. There's a difference. Promise me you’ll do your best to keep that in mind?”

He'd promised he wouldn't lie. So what reason was there for you not to believe the plea in his eyes?

You couldn’t come up with a single reason why he might possibly care about you beyond his predatory nature. Everything you had ever been taught claimed that vampires were nothing more than animals driven by their instincts and desire to kill - that they had no capability for emotional complexity of any kind. But you knew now, from that look in his eyes that those claims had to be wrong and it wasn’t just some act or a trick of the light. It was right in front of you and you couldn’t deny it.

Your heart stuttered again, but your fear wasn't going to stop you.

“Deal.”

"Excellent." He looked really happy.

"So, now what?"

It didn't take long for the two of you to figure out an activity. Although after three consecutive losses in Never Have I Ever minus the alcohol, Kol gave up. By that time it was about noon. You could hardly believe it when you checked your watch that you had spent three hours on the side of a cliff with an original vampire. Though, it grew harder for you to think of the boy that way the longer you spent with him. He wasn't scary when it was like this - just the two of you swapping funny stories on the side of a mountain. He was sincere just as he'd promised to be.

It was nice.

You didn't want it to end, so you told him that because you had promised to be honest as well. Kol's solution was to find the nearest movie theater and watch whatever was playing which just so happened to be The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. After that, you proceed to introduce him to the world of modern fantasy and Baskin Robbins simultaneously, the latter of which he paid for. Watching a one thousand-year-old being sample no less than thirty-six flavors of ice cream (rainbow sherbet included) while he asked you various in-depth questions about a famous children's book was the most entertaining thing you had ever experienced.

By the time all that was done, the sun had set and you knew it was probably time to get heading home. You still didn't want to go home, but this was the first date and you weren't going to stay overnight in a hotel with any person you'd only been on one date with regardless of whether they were human or not. You weren't that trusting.

The ride back to Mystic Falls was pleasant enough. You laughed and joked and listened to the radio. The only point when you felt uncomfortable was when he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a bag labeled O-negative. You tried to remain unfazed but seeing him actually drink the stuff made you jumpy. That bet you'd made that morning wouldn't leave your thoughts.

"You wanted my honesty," The boy hummed, aiming for nonchalance though he missed by a hairsbreadth.

"Yeah, I know." You nodded. "So, is that like your favorite?" You asked in a feeble attempt to dispel the awkwardness.

"I don't know if I really have a favorite," Kol admitted, shrugging. He flashed you a grin. "We'll have to see if that changes when I try yours."

He said when. Not if but when.

You swallowed thickly and faced forward, biting your lip with a slight hum to acknowledge his comment. Kol turned his head and frowned.

"I did it again, didn't I?" He sighed. "I didn't mean it, love. I was being facetious just like I was about that bet this morning."

He wasn't serious?

"That's not what I saw."

He huffed a laugh. "Don't get me wrong, darling. As much as I would absolutely love a taste from one of your pretty little veins, I'd rather wait until you offer me one."

The statement was, by no means, comforting. It was the genuine confidence in his tone that disturbed you the most. He spoke with the same surety that one uses when speaking of a morning’s sunrise. At the very least, his words assured you that he would keep his earlier promise.

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your mind. One date with him didn’t mean anything.

“I am never going to do that, Kol.” Your voice was quiet but firm, cold and hard like steel. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him turn his head to watch you. Even in the blackness of the night, his eyes weren’t as dark or as cold as you had thought just the day before. They were dark chocolate - not obsidian.

“With all due respect, darling - which is more than I think you’re used to being shown -” His voice was quiet too but in a different way. It sounded more like coffee and warm muffins. “- I wouldn’t recommend making a vow like that. Never isn’t quite as long as you think it might be.”

You nodded, rolling your eyes. “Is this your way of winning yourself that bet? ‘Cuz I hate to break it to you but, uh… it won’t work.”

“I can have my fantasies,” He said, shrugging innocently.

“And I can crush them,” You fired back.

The awkward atmosphere cleared shortly after that and the rest of the ride back to your house was comfortable and fun. When the two of you arrived in Mystic Falls, he parked his car where he’d left the motorcycle that morning, and this time you climbed on without a second thought. The experience was just as enjoyable after dark. All too soon, however, you found yourself parked on the curb in front of your house. Climbing off the bike, you pulled off the helmet he’d given you to borrow and placed it on the back. Kol stopped you.

“Why don’t you keep that,” He said with a knowing smirk. “I have a feeling you’ll need it again.”

You shrugged. “Won’t say no to free stuff.”

He just smiled at you and you had to look away. You were blushing but you hopped it was too dark for him to tell. Kol walked you to the door, like any real gentleman should.

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye,” He said. “For now, at least.”

You could have left; yet, you chose to linger.

You shook your head. “No, it isn’t.”

The boy’s brows snapped together and you could practically see the wheels in his head turning. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re trying to weasel your way out of it, but I won’t let you.”

“You’ve lost me, darling.”

You gestured to the silver crescent moon hanging on the ink-black backdrop above you. “It’s the end of the night. I have officially won the bet,” You announced. “Now, pay up, loser.”

“Wha- No!” He laughed and shook his head. “I’ll admit to losing, but I already paid.”

“How?”

“I bought the ice cream.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m pretty sure the agreement was three pints worth,” You said.

“Was it?”

“Yeah…”

He hissed. “Guess you’ll just have to go on another two dates with me then, won’t you?”

“Guess I will.” You played at reluctance but you really didn’t mind all that much. You’d had fun with him. That wasn’t a bad thing.

“Your parents are going to kill you,” He predicted with a satisfied smirk.

“Ya’ think?” You mockingly gasped. “Wow! You know, you should feel ashamed for being such a bad influence on me.”

He snapped his fingers. “I should be ashamed, damn it! Your parents are really going to hate me now.” The boy leaned forward and a mischievous grin danced in his eyes as he bowed his head, looking up at you through a curtain of lashes. “Shall we make it worse?” He whispered conspiratorially.

Your grin matched his. “Hell yeah.”

With a breathy laugh that turned to mist in the chilly evening air of mid-autumn, he reached up and trailed his hand up to your shoulder. You only really noticed how cold it was when he tugged on the sleeve of your sweater, dragging the material away from your neck and off your shoulder. Butterflies and paranoia gripped your insides and you eyed him wearily. He glanced back up to meet your eyes and smiled as he took a step closer to you.

“Relax, darling.” The boy wrapped both arms around your waist. “Promise I won’t do anything bad,” He assured you, taking another step closer. He rested his forehead against yours for just a moment before leaning down. You felt his breath ghost over your neck and you stiffened.

What he did wasn’t quite a kiss - not exactly. Kol started at the curve of your jaw and smoothed his lips down the column of your throat with hardly the pressure of an autumn leaf drifting to the ground. He finished at your shoulder, leaving an achingly soft kiss on the spot. His lips were gentle and sweet, like rain through a mountaintop forest. Your eyes fluttered closed and your heart raced. It was like a dream and you wanted more even though you knew you shouldn’t. Butterflies flitted through your soul as he dragged his perfectly soft lips to the base of your throat and back up. The boy hesitated for a moment before he nipped just lightly at your jaw. Then again at your pulse. Your racing heart skipped a beat and he paused.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” He whispered.

You couldn’t comprehend why you said: “Don’t.”

Kol leaned down and nipped at your pulse again. You shuddered and he did it once more, a little slower. Then his arms around your waist tightened and Kol pressed your whole body against his own, holding you as close as he could. For a split second, you could feel him smile. His lips pressed gently at your throat, trailing along your jugular. He was gentle and sweet but there was a greediness and a hunger to each kiss that he couldn’t seem to hide. You could say for certain that nothing had ever felt quite as gratifying as Kol's mouth. Even though it shouldn't have. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself that much closer to him, tangling your fingers in his hair. The boy hummed quietly, though it was a more innocent sound than you’d heard from him that morning - like he couldn’t help it. His mouth trailed lower, to the base of your throat.

When he kissed you again, Kol was rougher. You drew in a quick breath as he kissed and bit at your skin with blunt teeth. It was still sweet somehow; not as lustful as you would expect. Those teeth had killed - had ripped flesh apart, but for your life, you could not bring yourself to care. Because with you, this monster was sweet - so effortlessly sweet and kind. Kol kept his promise. He didn't hurt you. He only bit hard enough to bruise - just hard enough to leave a mark your parents would see. His mouth slowed and he took a breath. You could tell he wanted to kiss you like that again but you really weren't ready for anything more so you appreciated that he didn't. When he was done leaving his mark on you, he skimmed his lips over it and pressed one last tender kiss on your jaw.

The boy didn't pull away just yet, however. He lingered, hungry for more as if he just couldn't find the strength to drag himself away from you. That one last kiss turned into four or five more but you weren't complaining. He let go of your waist first, moving his hands to your shoulders.

"Sorry about that," He laughed quietly. "I might have gotten a little carried away."

You nodded, struggling to speak. "A little bit, yeah."

"In my defense, both your parents were watching through the windows behind me and I think your mother might have fainted."

"Wait, really?" That would be entertaining if nothing else.

"That's what it sounded like," He replied. Kol finally pulled away from you, smiling just a little bit. "Does this mean I get another date?"

Did he really even need to ask?

"I think I can live with that." You nodded, smirking. "Though it needs to involve ice cream of some variety."

"We already did a movie," He mused.

"True…"

"And just yesterday you turned me down on dinner."

"Also true…"

He pushed a strand of hair away from your face and his lips twitched up into a teasing smile. "Please suggest something, love. I don't think I can survive another one of my sister's modern culture education sessions," He said.

"Oh, I dunno. Can you play mini-golf?"

***

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @trikigirl271 Hey there, people of the internet! If you want on or off the tag list for this series and/or all my other works, just send me a DM to let me know! And if Tumblr won't let me tag you, I'll just send you a friendly DM reminder at your request. Thanks for reading!

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reyes-magia · 5 months

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Colorful irises flashed as they lifted from the pages of the tomb in her lap, glancing up at her aunt who stood before her. “Si?” She questioned in the native tongue of the Isle — a tongue that she had wanted to learn once upon a time….what seemed like ages ago now.

“Estos necesitan tu aprobación, mi reina.” Several sheafs of parchment rustled as Griselle motioned with them. Davina fought to keep from rolling her eyes and sighing out loud as she closed the book with a firm thump and rose from the antique chair she had been sitting in, her curled brown tresses bouncing lightly against her shoulders. “Hand them here, then.” She said, holding out her free hand as she set the book on the table before her. It still felt strange, ordering around a woman at least ten winters her senior, but she tried not to dwell on it as her eyes skimmed the documents handed over. “Has there been any word from the invitations I sent out?” The ones going beyond Magia to the people she actual knew and wanted to see.

Her eyes flickered over in time to catch Griselle’s head shake. “No, but those of Magia are looking forward to the celebrations and meeting you.” Davina forced a polite smile, nodding as she bent over to affix her signature to each document in turn before holding them back out. “Make sure ye tell the kitchen and the seamstress I want ta have final approval of the food and meh dress. Thank ye.” The decor was out of her hands — as was the music. But she’d be damned if she didn’t get a say in what she ate and what she wore. “Let meh know if any word comes back from meh invitations.” She added, pausing to pick up the tomb from the table before returning to her seat.

Griselle watched her a moment. “You are doing well, you know, ruling.” She had meant it as a compliment. Davina knew that, but it still didn’t keep her from feeling bitter. “Ye have yer ancestors ta thank for that. That is all.” Was all she said, leaving Griselle to awkwardly remove herself from the room to go back about her business.

It left Davina with her own thoughts…wondering if anyone would actually show up to support, or if her invitations would go unanswered.

@theheartofbarley @theskyehealers @caspianmaxson @thedawnbeauty

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brotherhoodoftheblade · 9 months

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Still rereading Voyager, and this description of Claire’s eyes has me thinking again what a missed opportunity it was for Percy not to have turned out to be her ancestor. *sigh*

I mean, what was even the real narrative purpose of having him marry into the Beauchamp family in particular otherwise?? He could’ve just married into any random French noble family. *shrug* The only thing we’ve gotten out of the storyline thus far is the implication that Fergus, at least, is Claire’s ancestor.

Even though everyone - including John - has spent years presuming Percy must be lying about it without even stopping to ask why he would waste at least FIVE YEARS of his life pursuing the same objective, despite repeatedly receiving such rude treatment from almost everyone on top of it all.

Honestly, if the marriage license is forgery and the whole thing is actually a scam then why waste so many years beating his head against the brick wall that is Fergus and rest of the Fraser clan?? If you’ve - hypothetically - already created forged documents to support a fraudulent legal claim, then why waste so many years in pursuit of an stubbornly uncooperative dead end?

If it’s indeed a scam then why stop with just a forged marriage license? Just bloody well hire someone to make the claim to the Comte’s estate as Amelie Beauchamp’s son already!! After all, where’s the logic in only doing something half wrong? lol Why continue to bother with Fergus at all...unless Percy really believes him to be who he says he is?

Of course, there’s the far more nebulous question of who Percy’s “connections” are, on just whose behalf he’s been working all these years. His work as a French agent is on behalf of Secret du Roi and then the Marquis de Lafayette, but the matter of gaining control of the Comte’s land in North America would be of great benefit to whomever it’s new owner choses to support: the French/Americans or the British.

But Percy had already been pursuing the Fergus business for a few years before he even discovered that Ezekiel Richardson was acting as a double agent, so in the years prior Richardson would’ve been the enemy as far as he knew and therefore not an ally. (Not to mention he specifically sought John out to warn him about Richardson’s schemes after learning of them...for all use that John put that warning to in the years following. *rolls eyes*)

Although, Percy was also noted to be in somewhat intimate acquaintance (because, uh, what the hell else do you call paying for your fellow male friend’s visit to a whore while you sit and watch? lmao) with Denys Randall-Isaacs, a British officer. Though this was still a few years before France officially joined the war, so they weren’t technically enemies yet. Pretty weird that two fellow intelligence agents of rival governments were hanging out socially though - were they exchanging info or what?

And, of course, the larger question is whether Percy was playing both sides even back then, or only doing it to gather intel for the French. Certainly, by Bees, we know for a fact that he has connections among the English and plans to turn his coat once he’s gotten his ducks lined up. But at which point did this occur and WHY, when the stakes were literally his life if he was caught and hung for a double agent??? Especially when, according to John, Percy is too much of an afraid-of-the-entire-world, lily-livered coward to so boldly - and needlessly! - risk his own self-preservation like that. Especially when he’s already so well-established in French high society, and a return to England would result in execution if his true identity were ever exposed. 💀

But Percy has already shown himself to be, at heart, the sort of person who would readily sacrifice both status and wealth in return for even the hope of love. Or maybe even the chance just to go home after having been unfairly exiled from the country of his birth for over twenty years. Many a person might risk the same - especially someone as sentimental Percy Wainwright. ~

#in which I've rambled somewhat incoherently about Percy stuff #I've been up all night and started rambling at 3:30 am because I couldn't sleep #kindly leave me alone if this makes no sense lolol #but seriously THREE LONG ASS BOOKS later and there are STILL so many loose plot ends #I honestly try to think about OL as little as possible because just thinking about it drives me nuts #if I didn't feel half-dead with exhaustion and chronic pain all the time you'd better believe I'd be continuing my Percy fanfics right now!#my random ramblings #Percy Wainwright #Lord John Grey #Outlander #lord john series

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cleophantom · 1 year

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Okay, so if you're a Pokémon fan, you may have heard the fan theory that the Paradox Pokémon from Scarlet and Violet which are past and future cersions of current Pokémon aren't actually from the past/future and were instead figments of human imagination made manifest by the Pokémon which is the source of the Terastil Phenomenon.

I think that theory is bullshit.

That theory makes a metric fuckload of assumptions based on the fact that the Scarlet and Violet Books are 200 years old, and the Paradox Pokémon came through Sada/Turo's time machine, so the ones documented in the book couldn't have been there.

The problem is that you fuckers forgot about Legends: Arceus and its main villain.

Remember Volo, ancestor to Cynthia, merchant and amateur archaeologist by day, Arceus cosplayer and co-conspirator of Satan by night? Remember how he said he wasn't giving up on his plan to draw out and subjugate Arceus? Remember how the space-time rifts he created drew in Pokémon from the future like Porygon?

Yeah, that was about 200 years before the events of Scarlet and Violet, too. It's not crazy to think that Pokémon from different time periods could appear in that time frame, because it's already happened. Five bucks said Volo made a Space-time Rift in Area Zero 200 years ago as a trial run for his plan to piss off Palkia and Dialga into warping reality or he did it by accident and rolled with it, which spawned in the Paradox Pokémon for Heath to observe and maybe created monstrous hybrid abominations of the Legendary Beasts and Swords of Justice too.

The details are vague, but I think the popular theory that the Paradox Pokémon are no more Pokémon from the past and future than this thing is Jack Frost

is fucking stupid. It's a huge leap in logic that defies everything the story tells you to obsess over an odd detail when there's another, much less ridiculous answer if you just look to the game that came out just 10 months earlier.

#pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon sv #scarlet and violet spoilers #pokemon legends arceus

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razieltwelve · 2 years

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Hyphen (Final Rose)

“You could always just hyphenate,” Lightning said to Summer. “That’s what Fang and I did.”

“Hmm... maybe. But you and Fang are lucky. Yun-Farron has such a nice ring to it.” Summer grimaced. “Now that Raven is with us, though, hyphenating might actually make things worse.”

“Oh?”

“Well, first there’s the order to consider. For you and Fang, it made sense to go with Yun-Farron since the Yun put the surname first and Vale tradition puts it last. Going Yun-Farron satisfies both those traditions. The three of us don’t have something like that.” Summer sighed. “And you know how Raven is.”

“She probably wants you all to just take Branwen as a surname.” Lightning rolled her eyes. “Which you won’t be doing.”

“But if we use all of our surnames, we’d still need an order.”

“Just use the order you appear on your team. You’re Team STRQ, so go with your surname, then Taiyang’s, and then Raven’s,” Lightning said.

“We could... but that still leaves us with Rose-Xiao-Long-Branwen. It’s kind of a mouthful.”

“It’s manageable.”

Summer rubbed her chin. “I suppose it isn’t too bad.” She laughed. “Just imagine when the kids get married. If they keep the full name, then their names will get even longer.”

X X X

“...” Yang stared at the box on the form. “Can we get a different form?” she asked.

The clerk glanced up from her paperwork. “Ma’am?”

“It’s just... I don’t think my surname will fit in this box.”

“Really? It’s a big box. What is your surname?” the clerk asked.

“If I write it in full...” Yang took a deep breath. “Rose-Xiao-Long-Branwen-Belladonna-Schnee-Nabaat.”

“...” The clerk blinked. “That... is a very long surname.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

The Remnant tendency to combine names along with having geometrically complex marriages can result in ridiculous surnames. As a result, it is culturally acceptable for people to have a ‘common name’ that is just their first name and whatever part of their full surname is convenient for every day usage.

Ruby Rose and Yang Xiao Long are both examples of common names.

However, certain official documents require a full name, which includes both the first name and any middle names but also a full surname.

Incidentally, people from various groups can also have multiple names due to the formatting of names in those groups.

For example:

Diana’s most commonly used name is Diana Yun-Farron. That’s the name she goes by in Vale. However, in Oerba, she will typically introduce herself as Oerba Yun Diana since she is indeed Diana of the Yun Clan from Oerba. A Yun’s full name does add some extra names too in order to distinguish between individuals since a name like Oerba Yun Fang (Fang of the Yun Clan from Oerba) is not nearly specific enough. Usually, the names of the parents form a middle name, and the suburb or village someone comes from can be added too.

If you want to see a real monstrosity, though, Her Imperial Majesty Averia VII’s full name is a disaster zone. She is the ruler of the Clans due to marriages by her ancestors, so she retains those names and titles as well since they are all important.

On the upside, since she is empress, Averia can usually just get away with signing as Empress Averia VII since, well, there’s only one empress with that particular name and number.

#final rose #fanfiction #summer rose #lightning farron #yang xiao long

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civilwarpensions · 1 year

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Attempting to track down Your Precursor's Tactical Records

Military Records

War, this has been a the vitally US starting from the start. As a general rule, our country started with a conflict. In her celebrated history, Americans have battled in various conflicts, fights, clashes and clashes. researching civil war ancestors

The data inside military record is a by and large over-looked mother lode for genealogist. The data you can gather from annuity records can empower one to sort out your loved ones. Nobody kept preferred records over the U.S. Government and with regards to military records they investigated every possibility.

Military records can be tracked down in three significant classifications; Administration Records, Annuity Records, and Military Accounts.

Administration Records

Administration Records cover the time span your progenitor was in the help. Administration records will contain your precursor's name, starting position, his most elevated rank or finishing rank, and the unit they served in. Things that may likewise be remarkable to your progenitor can be found in the help records, for example, leave papers and clinical records. NARA (Public Document and Records Organization) has microfilmed various files of administration records and summon records.

A vital variable you will find about military records is that in spite of the fact that they fluctuate in quality and amount in light of the conflict, they likewise shift contingent upon when they surely were made, how much data contained, measure of records that made due and their accessibility all get better the later the contention.

Annuity Records

Annuity records cover the post administration time frame at whatever point your precursor, or their closest relative, may have accepted veteran's benefits. Benefits records give likely the most number of data. On the off chance that they got the annuity or not the applying for the annuity will before long be on record and have data about it that is helpful. They needed to demonstrate these were in the military and where they served, neighbors, family members and friends needed to affirm which they served and of the assistance. Having a dismissed benefits application isn't exactly something terrible. These normally produced more data, and more testimonies as anybody was endeavoring to demonstrate he merited the annuity.

The most vital phase in realizing regardless of whether your precursor incorporates a benefits record is counsel the benefits files which are on microfilm for each conflict. For the progressive conflict, battle of 1812, Mexican Conflict is independent, however records from 1861 to 1934 truly are a solitary combined file. These records on microfilm are accessible at your nearby Family Ancestry Center, NARA site, or Ancestry.com. Benefits records likewise give actual depictions of one's precursor.

Military (or Unit) History

Unit chronicles will generally be distributed by veteran's gatherings and add verifiable foundation that fundamentally assists you with perceiving the contention and your precursors roll in it. It's normal for a unit student of history or one more person to accumulate data from warriors and to make a unit history. These days many individuals are willingly volunteering to deliver unit chronicles. An illustration of this is really the Virginia Regimental Administrations where virtually every Virginia regiment in the Alliance includes a little unit history with a clarification of the contribution of the unit and a program of men in the unit and a smidgen about each man that served.

An effective method for dominating about military chronicles is to join a heredity association. A few group whose predecessors shared a common bond, similar to support in a conflict or struggle, DAR, and Children of the Association Veterans of the Nationwide conflict to specify a couple. These social orders keep enormous assortments of military accounts.

Where you can Start

First and foremost, distinguish a progenitor you think might have served in the military. Then conclude what you really want to comprehend and decide whether (conceivable) what part of the tactical they served. Explore the conflict years that will correspond with you progenitor. Presently query records on ancestry.com, archives.gov or visit your neighborhood LDS Family Ancestry Center. Likewise, consider joining an enthusiastic culture that will yield further outcomes.

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dwellordream · 3 years

Text

“Entertainment held an important place at the English royal court under Eleanor and Henry II, in contrast to Louis VII’s court, known for its sobriety and solemnity. Eleanor’s second husband invited jongleurs and performers of all sorts to his court, doubtless encouraged by her. English moralists, much like critics of the court of Eleanor’s grandfather at Poitiers, condemned the Plantagenet court for immorality, complaining of actors, mimes, and dancers who fostered debauched conduct among the courtiers.

Just as with other princes new to power, Henry Plantagenet, after winning the English Crown, attracted to his court singers and writers to compose poems and songs, glorifying him and his lineage. Among the crowd of courtiers were serious writers in Latin and in the Anglo-Norman vernacular, and during Eleanor’s years as English queen, troubadour lyric poetry, courtly love, and courtly romances spread to the Anglo-Norman world. A former poet turned monk at Eleanor and Henry’s court noted ruefully, “When I frequented the court with the courtiers, I made sirventes, chansons, rimes and saluts [types of secular lyrics], among the lovers and their mistresses.”

Yet a cause and effect relationship between Eleanor’s arrival in England and the advent of courtly literature there is dubious. Certainly a uniquely productive literary culture flourished at the royal court under Eleanor and Henry, and learned men flocked there, as evidenced by an extraordinary flowering of literary works in several genres. The queen, of course, had grown up at a court where literature and learning were valued, as had Henry. A contemporary described his father Geoffrey le Bel as “most highly lettered, commanding eloquence which set him far above both clerics and laymen, replete with all good manners.” Even before Henry became king, writers were dedicating works to him.

It is unlikely that the young duke of Normandy commissioned their works, however; they were dedicated to him in anticipation of his patronage once he took the English throne. Certainly, the court of Eleanor and Henry II earned a reputation as a beacon for courtly writers. As king of England, Henry was eager to encourage authors writing on varied subjects, no doubt expecting their works to reflect favorably on him as a powerful monarch. He sponsored both Latin language and Anglo-Norman vernacular works, among them historical works written in England and Normandy and also in Anjou that would give an illustrious past to both his Plantagenet predecessors as counts of Anjou and his Norman ancestors who had captured England’s royal Crown.

He wished during his quarrel with his archbishop of Canterbury to shore up the English monarchy’s sacred character with writings pointing up the sanctity of his predecessors. In his competition with the Capetian kings he needed to claim as forebear some heroic figure equaling their prestigious predecessor Charlemagne, and King Arthur or Edward the Confessor could potentially fulfill that need. Both of Henry I’s wives had been known as patrons of literature, and Henry II, who modeled himself on his grandfather, associated his queen with him in extending patronage to writers, even if no explicit evidence for their commissions of works survives.

Yet dedications or eulogies inserted by authors into their works afford indirect evidence that they viewed their monarch or his queen as prospective if not actual sources of patronage. Not all clerics wrote in search of material gain, however; some were impelled to write in the hope of instructing and correcting their prince, and others simply sought to show themselves loyal subjects through passages praising their ruler. There is no evidence that the nun of Barking who translated a Latin life of Edward the Confessor into Anglo-Norman had a commission from Henry II or his queen, although she would have known of the king’s support for the Confessor’s canonization. Perhaps she hoped to win their favor for her convent through her work. She inserted into her translation a passage calling on God’s protection for the king, the queen, and their lineage, and their divine sustenance in sanctity, peace, joy, and plenty.

For clerical authors at court who often doubled as royal clerks, it is impossible to separate patronage of their literary activity from payment for their secretarial services. Their reward from Eleanor or Henry often came in indirect forms, as presentations to churches or to cathedral prebends, whether in return for activities as royal scribes or as authors. Best known are clerics writing in Latin at the court of Eleanor and Henry, such as Gerald of Wales, Peter of Blois, or Roger of Howden; but Wace, a writer of histories in Anglo-Norman, was awarded by the king with a prebend at Bayeux Cathedral in the 1160s.

Eleanor had grown up at the Poitevin court that gave birth to troubadour poetry, and she certainly heard, read, and encouraged courtly literature. The royal court of Henry II attracted singers of songs, viol players, pipers, and other musicians; and among these entertainers were poets and composers. No doubt scores of songs were commissioned as propaganda in praise of the monarch and his queen or to commemorate special events such as celebrations of victories or the births and marriages of royal offspring, and once sung were soon forgotten.

Occasionally a pipe roll entry records payments to a storyteller (fabulator) or a harpist (citharidus). Although no documents survive to register Eleanor’s own commissions of literary works, handsome sums were regularly handed over to her from the royal treasury that could be used for distributing patronage to writers without leaving any trace in the exchequer accounts. The absence of documents recording Eleanor’s payments to writers does not preclude her showing favor to them with cash from her personal treasury or with gifts of precious objects.

Royal reward to writers, like favors to other courtiers, could take the form of gifts of robes or other clothing, gold cups, or even horses and mules. A Catalan troubadour writing a decade or more after Henry II’s death wrote of hearing how “Sir Henry, a king of England, gave horses and mules as gifts.” A week spent entertaining a generous patron could win a singer or poet robes worth more than most peasants earned in a year. Lacking other documentation, however, the poems themselves must bear witness that their authors expected to win the English queen’s favor through their writings.

…During Eleanor’s early years as English queen, she seems to have shared her husband’s taste for histories, especially those written in the Anglo-Norman vernacular. Henry II commissioned writers experienced at composing romances who could make historical writings available to a courtly audience not well educated in Latin. In about 1155 a royal clerk Wace won a commission to write the Roman de Brut, an Anglo-Norman adaptation of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Latin history. Layamon, a priest who translated the Brut into English in the first decades of the thirteenth century, claims that Wace had dedicated it to Queen Eleanor and that he wrote of her, “Generous is Eleanor, gracious and wise.”

Possibly Layamon had seen a now lost presentation copy that contained a dedication to the queen. While his statement is no direct proof for Eleanor’s patronage, at least it indicates that she was thought to be a queen interested in literature and capable of offering favors to authors attracting her attention. Hardly accurate history, the Roman de Brut presents the story of the early Britons from the arrival of Brutus, a refugee from the Trojan War, to the Saxon invasions as if a translation of an ancient book in Breton (or Welsh). Although Wace incorporated oral traditions transmitted in minstrels’ songs, Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain was his chief source.

His vernacular reworking of legends of the ancient Britons, adding courtly elements, would play a pivotal part in medieval literature as the source for the “matter of Britain,” for it proved appealing to composers of later twelfth-century romances centering on King Arthur, Guinevere, and the knights of the Round Table. As a result, the legendary Arthur, his queen, and his knights became as much a part of history for twelfth-century readers as biblical personages or as heroes from the Latin classics, and Wace may have modeled his depiction of Arthur’s queen on Eleanor.

Perhaps courtiers hearing or reading these romances were tempted to see Henry and Eleanor in the portraits of Arthur and Guinevere. If modern readers can see parallels between fictional characters and historical personalities in twelfth-century romances, then Eleanor and Henry’s contemporaries could have seen them even more clearly. Medieval readers expected to uncover more than one level of meaning during their reading, and they were attuned to the allegorical nature of poetry.

Henry II, though materially more powerful than his rival Louis VII, felt himself “ideologically inferior” because of the Capetian king’s prestigious ancestry, traced back to Charlemagne. Arthurian material is sometimes said to have provided useful propaganda for Henry in his rivalry with Louis and later with his son Philip II, offering King Arthur as a prestigious royal predecessor from an even earlier time than the Capetians’ Frankish predecessors. Yet Henry made only fitful and desultory attempts at constructing an Arthurian ideology to counteract the Capetians’ use of Charlemagne.

Seeking ideological advantage from Arthurian material was not without risks, for King Arthur and Arthurian legends could serve better the purposes of rebellious English nobles, who found in Arthur and his faithful men gathered at the Round Table an idealized view of earlier kingship. Arthur was closely identified with the inhabitants of the Celtic fringes, people looked on by the English as savages, and Arthurian tales had an especially subversive effect on the Welsh and the Bretons. Henry II commissioned another book from Wace, the Roman de Rou, a history praising his Norman ducal ancestors from Rollo (or Rou), the Viking invader of Normandy, down to his grandfather Henry I; and the clerk prepared himself for the task by reading early Norman chronicles, listening to epic poetry, and even examining charters in Norman churches.

…Eleanor may have had some connection with another scientific work, a medical text in Latin brought from Sicily to England by Robert Cricklade, prior of Saint Fridewide’s, Oxford (d. c.1171). He was the compiler of a scientific text, an abridgement of Pliny’s natural history, that he had dedicated first to King Henry I, then later to Henry II. Like a number of English scholars, Robert traveled in Italy, going to Rome and Sicily in 1156 and returning in 1158. While in Sicily, he was given a copy of the Gynaecia Cleopatrae, originating in Constantinople, to take back to England to the queen.

Eleanor would have learned of the reputation of Greek medical learning while in Constantinople during the Second Crusade. It is plausible that the English queen, anxious after the early death of her son William, had asked the prior to bring from Sicily medical books on childbirth, care of children, and female disorders. At the time of Robert’s departure, Eleanor was left with only one boy, Young Henry. Given her record of bearing only daughters in her first marriage, she may have had dynastic concerns about producing more sons. If so, her fears proved unrealistic, for she quickly produced two more sons in 1157 and 1158.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “ A Queen’s Work: Regent for an Absentee King, 1155–1168.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

#eleanor of aquitaine #eleanor of aquitaine: queen of france queen of england #history #high middle ages #medieval literature #ralph v. turner #henry ii of england

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eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

dazed bees to honey

Pairing: Shisui Uchiha / Sakura Haruno

Rating: T

Summary: He saw her throw a man into a table and now he's entranced.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744067

_____________________________

He’s off the mission roster for two weeks.

Tsunade said, “Consider it a vacation, Uchiha,” while massaging her nose bridge.

Apparently, one person shouldn’t voluntarily accept three back to back solo missions running from Earth, Lightning, then back to Earth country. She had mumbled something about “disrespect for authority,” “emotional constipation,” and “generations of inbreeding,” along with other things he couldn’t quite catch when he came back with his chakra dangerously low and slightly feverish. He ignored her death glares while she filled out his medical leave forms and flicked through his mission reports.

Despite what Tsunade thought about his work-life balance he saw it as a healthy exercise in assessing one’s physical and mental limitations…for science.

He shifted his weight side to side and assessed her. Her trademark pigtails draped over her shoulders and her green haori was draped on the back of her heavy office chair. She had one hand braced under her chin while she diligently signed documents and hummed at his mission details. He stared at a chip in the wooden floorboards beneath his feet and scrunched his nose at the state of his sandals.

“Y’know, Tsunade-sama, as the most prolific, intelligent, and innovative medical ninja in all the great nations,” he began, ignoring the way her pen cracked in her grip, “Shouldn’t you have a professional stake in knowing just how much one of your elite shinobi can handle?” He flashed her a crooked grin as her brow twitched.

Tsunade placed her pen down and sat back heavily into her chair, steepling her fingers to her forehead then looking into the rafters of her office. Undeterred, he continued.

“Surely as the Hokage—as my Hokage—as my favorite Hokage,” he blubbered on, gesturing with his hands, “Shouldn’t you be proud and relieved that I learned that one can actually survive on Lightning country’s bitter reed roots for like, a week straight?”

Barring of course, the violent color it turned his urine, the incredibly vivid dreams he had after about 3 days, and the subtle auditory hallucinations after 5 days, which he coincidentally forgot to tell his prolific, intelligent, and most favorite Hokage.

He dodged a paper weight that ripped him from his musings on the potential recreational uses of said plant root as she barked at him to go to the hospital.

The last place he wanted to go was the hospital.

He smiled at her, all dimples and pretty straight teeth. “Tsunade-sama, did I mention your beauty and graciousness?” putting heavy emphasis on ‘beauty.’ “I must’ve because a little birdie at the gates told me about a B ranked escort mission deep into Wind country next week that I would just love to—” he dodged a stapler aimed for his face.

“Get out of my office.”

“Hokage-sama—”

“Your initial priority was your mission in Earth,” she looked at him pointedly. “I gave the second one in Lightning because I figured that would give you enough time to soul search or find the missing braincells your ancestors must have scattered across the elemental Nations throughout the decades,” she waved her hands absentmindedly. “But I guess no luck there since you conned a chunin squad out of their reconnaissance mission in Earth.” He internally winced at the sharp tone of her voice.

He had happened to run across a very green looking chunin squad at the border of Fire country and told them that he was headed that way anyways and that they should head back to Konoha and request a more exciting mission. It didn’t take much persuading once they realized they were talking to shunshin no Shisui, and what idiots would openly defy a legendary shinobi?

“Shisui!” Tsunade hissed, “Are you even listening to me? Since you seemed so eager to take missions well beneath your skill level, I can arrange it so you’re on D levels for the next month—don’t give me that look, we’re in peace time—if I actually needed you, I would’ve sent you a summons but being your gracious Hokage,” she rolled her eyes, “I let you play precocious genin.” The contempt was dripping from her voice while he stared into her Byakugou seal.

“Listen,” she sighed, resting her arms on her desk, “Rest and don’t go overboard on training. I’d force you to stay overnight at the hospital just so you wouldn’t even think about expending chakra, but Sakura’s out on a mission,” that tidbit made his ears perk. “And I don’t get paid enough to drop kick you back into a hospital bed when you eventually sneak out—”

“—well then, I’ll get going, thank you Hokage-sama,” he said with a bow, shunshining away from her death glare.

Tsunade sighed, hands twitching to reach for one of the ceramic bottles hidden away in a drawer. Instead, she braced her hands on her desk and pushed, swiveling herself towards the large office windows. Staring at the Hokage monument, she allowed herself a wistful smile, remembering the warmth of young love in the pale sky and emerald trees.

Shisui stared at his ceiling after his check up at the hospital and flirting his way out of staying overnight on the account of his abs being very much intact despite poor nutrition—“Yes, could you please check them?” He grins at the memory of the flustered nurse, fondly thinking of the verbal lashing he’d get from Sakura if she caught wind.

She’d tell him that he needs to stop terrorizing the nurses so he could heal and he’d tell her he’d stay overnight only if she’d be his personal medic. Or, you know, he’d offer with a sly grin, she could play live in nurse. Shisui, she’d say exasperatedly. He could imagine the way she’d pinch her nose bridge and run a hand through her pretty hair. He’d throw his hands up in concession after she sized him up wondering if she should beat him into submission with her tiny fists.

He’d tell her to lower her weapons of mass destruction and take her small hands in his larger ones, thumb tracing over her worn knuckles.

Sighing and ignoring the ache in his chest, Shisui grabbed one of the many magazines scattered on his coffee table and mindlessly flipped through it. His feet tapped out an irregular rhythm while he glossed over the words on the page, thinking of the past year.

He and Genma had just returned from a grueling undercover mission on the border of Grass and Waterfall. The duo ambled into the bar, bones weary, and aching for a drink. They eased themselves at the bar front, sipping on drinks that bit at the back of the throat.

Appreciatively inhaling the spicy sweet aroma, he finally made eye contact with Sasuke, who was strangely handling a large stack of ryo in one hand and a notebook in the other.

Towards the back of the room, a small crowd of jounin and ANBU regulars were circled around a single table. Sasuke’s pink-haired teammate sat at one end and gestured at the empty seat across from her. Behind Sakura, other members of her graduating class were clapping Sakura’s shoulders and laughing amongst themselves. Sakura said something teasing—Shisui could tell by the way her eyebrow gracefully sloped up and the impish smile that graced her face. Sasuke apparently backed her up, haughtily puffing his chest out and crossing his shoulders, slanting his chin at the empty seat across from his teammate.

Clearly goading the group of older shinobi, a veteran, Shisui remembered as being exceptionally fond of decapitating his enemies by hand, swiveled the empty chair backwards and sat heavily, elbow anchored at the table, formally accepting Sakura’s challenge. The shinobi tauntingly fluttered his fingers and subtly flexed his arm, causing his ANBU tattoo to ripple.

To Shisui’s surprise, Sasuke smiled. With teeth. Shisui, who had a lifetime’s experience decoding stoic Uchiha mannerisms—and especially Itachi and Sasuke’s micro-expressions, read Sasuke’s smile as a feral, shit eating grin. Sasuke spread his arms wide, like a ring master at his very own circus, and smirked as the older group whispered amongst themselves. Shisui watched as Sasuke meticulously took notes in his notebook and collected ryo from the shinobi.

The members of his graduating class positively leered at the older group, their eyes blood thirsty.

“Hideki probably shouldn’t have been promoted to ANBU captain if he’s stupid enough to think he’ll win against Sakura-chan,” Genma murmured around his senbon.

“Hideki’s arm is the size of both our heads combined—and your head’s fucking massive,” Shisui snickered. “I know Sakura-san’s the Godaime’s apprentice but I thought the Godaime’s strength was hereditary?”

Genma turned his head from side to side, sighing at the way his vertebrae cracked, “Nah, you’re not in the village long enough to know anything anymore. But Sakura-chan’s basically a mini Tsunade, but just a little more evil.”

Shisui started at that, trying to recall what he knew about Sakura.

Pink. Massive crush on Sasuke that apparently dissipated if the way Sasuke always had giant bruises, angrily grumbling Sakura’s name, was anything to go by. One of the head medics at a ridiculously young age. He knew she was strong. Little Sasuke’s indignation at his “weak” teammate gradually turned to respect and trust throughout the years and Shisui knew that the Godaime wouldn’t take just anyone as her apprentice. But Tsunade-sama strong?

“I thought she was a medic.”

Genma snorted.

Shisui lazily leaned back against the bar. His eyes traced over Sakura’s arms—corded with muscle, but nowhere near her opponent’s. Her hand was consumed by Hideki’s, her visible four fingers hardly taking up half of his hand.

Channeling chakra to their ears so they could catch any exchanges, Genma and Shisui listened to Hideki coo at Sakura.

“Try not to cry when you lose, petal, I’d hate to see you upset.”

Sakura smiled, and loosened her shoulders.

As Sasuke finished writing his notes and collecting his ryo, he counted down from three with a gleam in his eye that made Shisui shift uncomfortably. At Sasuke’s “Go,” nothing happened. Hideki’s friends stared at his clasped hand in confusion which quickly changed to incredulousness.

Sakura’s grin, stretched impossibly wider as she tipped her head back and licked her lips.

“Don’t hold back your tears, petal, I love seeing grown men cry.”

Her hand slammed forward and through the table, flinging Hideki off his chair into the debris and woodchips. He laid sprawled across the floor, looking up at Sakura dazedly. Sakura responded by resting her cheek against a fist and pouting.

“And here I thought you’d be a little more of a challenge. Sad”

With one half of the crowd cheering and whooping and the other half looking part disbelieving and part terrified, Sasuke promptly handed Sakura a chunk of her winnings and flung an arm across her shoulders for post-win gloating.

Shisui tried not to let the surprise show on his face but apparently failed to do so as Genma snorted, “Told you so.” Not only was he surprised at what must have been a fraction of her strength, but Shisui’s mind was reeling at Sasuke’s outward fondness for someone other than his mother and apparent talent as a fucking bookmaker.

As the commotion died down, the crowd parted as Sakura made her way towards the bar.

“Hope you didn’t wound his pride too much Sakura-chan, a little unbecoming for grown men to cry at a bar, no?” Genma said, while handing her a drink.

“It’s been a busy week for me, I had to fulfill my monthly ‘make men cry’ quota somehow, right?” Sakura responded, taking a greedy sip.

Genma moved his senbon from one side to the other. “Are Hatake’s tears not enough? Heard you actually get him to go to post-mission health checks on the regular now.”

She rolled her eyes and abandoned her straw to take a deep swig of her drink. As if realizing Shisui’s presence for the first time she jerked her head towards him.

“Oh hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you Shisui-san, I’ve heard so much about you—I’m guessing your guys’ mission went okay?” she asked while looking at them up and down, assessing both their physical states.

“Sakura-san,” Shisui clucked, “Are you checking us out? I’ll have you know that Genma is much older than you think.” He ignored Genma’s side glare in favor of catching Sakura’s amused snort. “And I didn’t realize Sasu-chan talked about me, that is so adorable, I hope it was all good things? Shisui flirted.

Surprising Shisui, Sakura rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“Fuck you man, you wish you’d look half as good as me in a few years, just because you think you’re above daily SPF doesn’t mean your skin’s not going to age like a leather glove. You don’t hide under your ANBU mask—” Shisui glared harshly and elbowed Genma in the stomach, “—enough for the sun to not be damaging, Uchiha genes be damned.” Genma managed to wheeze out.

“Relax Shisui-san,” Sakura said placatingly, “Your ANBU status is unclassified information for me. Also,” she leaned in towards him, “It’s not as if the whole village doesn’t know, she dropped to a theatrical whisper, “That Uchiha Shisui is ANBU.”

Blinking at her, but conceding to her logic, Shisui apologetically patted his partner’s shoulder.

“Also,” Sakura quipped, “I was the one who specifically chose you two as duo to infiltrate and wrote the tactical plan in your mission scroll.”

Shisui’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re above Sakura-chan’s tactical planning,” Genma said. “She totally predicted that the target’s estranged stepson was going to come out of the woodworks in some shady way,” Sakura visibly brightened, “Thanks for including that theory in Addendum C, Sakura-chan—and like, isn’t her handwriting so much better than half the Nara’s in tactics?” Genma babbled animatedly.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Shisui said, “So you’re telling me you’re a top tier medic, Hokage’s apprentice, an active juonin—who has to deal with Sasuke’s mood swings nonetheless—and part of the tactics squad?”

“Yup,” she responded, popping the ‘p.’ “But I don’t go on every single Team 7 mission anymore. Not that I don’t love them, but rasengan-ing and chidori-ing your way through battle plans gets a little tedious and a gal needs variety,” she joked, waving her hand towards the back of the room where Sasuke and Naruto were apparently haggling over the worth of the destroyed table with the owner of the bar. “Also, I’m not formally in tactics. Shikaku-san’s been my informal strategy mentor for a few years.” She shrugged and tossed her long hair over her shoulder.

“I mean you spend so much time in the office, Shikaku’s basically like your work husband, ne?” Genma smirked into his drink, “Or is it little Shikaku junior who taught you the ropes?”

Shisui ignored Sakura’s withering stare. “Godaime’s apprentice, Hatake’s student, Shikaku’s…mentee.” He let out a low whistle, “Looks like you basically meet all the requirements to be future Hokage.”

“Too bad Sakura-chan has a temper just like Tsunade-sama’s; the council members would gouge their hearts out,” Genma chuckled.

“Maybe you should spend more time in the field instead of on Hokage guard rotations, then you wouldn’t be talking so much shit.” Sakura’s lip curled into a small smile, despite her outward annoyance.

“Ooh don’t forget Ibiki, he and Sakura are like two peas in a pod. It’s horrible.”

“Wait, so how do you know this idiot?” Shisui interrupted, gesturing at Genma.

“Well,” Genma started, while motioning to the bartender for another drink, “It all started in the coat closet of Hokage tower, some filing boxes, and a leather—”

“Shut up Genma,” Sakura slapped the back of his head. “I was spending a lot of time at the tower, studying, doing paperwork, running errands, that Genma and I just started chatting. Then I was placed on some missions with him and that’s basically it.” Sakura shrugged and reached over to steal Genma’s new drink from him.

“Plus,” Genma added, pouting and making grabby motions at his stolen beverage, “Tag-team bullying Kakashi with her is a whole new level of fun.”

Sakura giggled and Shisui drowned in it.

Although wildly busy with ANBU missions, clan meetings, and his gradual transition to commander of the Police Force, he had decided then to make an active effort to drop in Sakura’s life from time to time. Afterall, he didn’t realize Konoha still churning out little prodigies since well, Itachi.

Several weeks later, he found himself wandering the streets of the village after a mission. A straightforward solo assassination. He was in and out with no trace. Although the post-mission physical evaluation was only semi-mandatory for shinobi that Tsunade trusted to seek care, he figured he could pop in to see if Sakura was busy.

He went into her office through the window and saw her at her desk. She was leaning back in her chair, exhaustion radiating off her as she greedily sucked at a pouch, fisting the small bag to get every drop.

“Ohoho is Haruno-sensei drinking on the job? Guess you really are a mini Tsunade, but isn’t it a bit early to turn to alcohol so young?” He teased, although he walked towards her with worry clear on his face, though she couldn’t see with her eyes closed in weariness.

“It’s applesauce, idiot.”

“Huh?”

“It’s applesauce. In a squeezy pouch.” She cracked an eye open, “Did you want one?”

“You seem hungry.” He eyed the four empty pouches on her desk. “Why not eat at the cafeteria?” He ran his hand through his curls, assessing her slight under eye circles and raw hands.

“You know what they say about hospital food,” she said dryly.

He looked at her blankly.

“God you need to stay local for longer periods of time.” She sighed.

“Would you like it if I did?”

“Well apparently someone needs to civilize you.”

Shisui couldn’t help the heat that crept up his neck at her answer and he looked at her in uncharacteristic silence.

Taking a deep breath and releasing, Sakura hunched over her desk, bracing her chin under her interlocked fingers. “Barging into someone’s private office through the window is a bit rude, don’t you think, Shisui-san?” She quirked an eyebrow at him and he internally stammered. She looked at him as if he were a lab specimen, and he swore he felt like he was in an interrogation cell. “Now I know Sasuke has the social capabilities of a rock,” Sakura continued, “But Itachi and Mikoto-san are very polite so you must have been taught manners at some point.”

“I didn’t realize you were so close to the Uchihas, Sakura-sensei,” he said lightly. He wracked through his brain to think of any instances of pink hair in the Uchiha district, but he was hardly ever home. His time in Konoha was largely spent working at the Police Force or with Itachi and Itachi never mentioned Sakura becoming such a familiar fixture in his life that she referred to him without an honorific.

Sakura rolled her eyes and produced another pouch. “I’ve known Sasuke for over a decade—and have the privilege of being one of his only two friends.” She shook her head fondly. “Also as one of the head medics, an active jounin, and administrative queen,” she said sarcastically, “Don’t you think,” she paused as she uncapped her snack. “That I would get to know a few Uchihas?”

Although Shisui was the one standing, he felt as though she were peering down at him, flicking him around in a mental boxing ring and he was losing. Badly.

“Ah, sorry Sakura-sensei,” he said laughing, rubbing the back of his neck, looking at the sentimental keepsakes at the top of her desk. “Maybe I was hoping that me and Sasuke would be the only Uchiha in your life.” He gave her a crooked grin and was met with a deadpan stare. Shifting on his feet he heaved a weak chuckle. “Maybe I got hit in the head a little too hard on this last mission, I can go, I’m sure you’re very,” he gestured at the small mountain of pouch corpses on her desk, “Busy.”

He made the hand sign to shunshin into a dark corner where he could bang his head against a wall in embarrassment and shame when she suddenly appeared in front of him. Her speed taking him by surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?” She gently grasped his shoulder to make him crouch down to her height and raised a glowing green palm to his head. “That should have been the first thing you led with.” He felt the cool rush of her chakra at the base of his head which did little to quell the heat rising to his cheeks. “Also, the protocol is for injured ANBU to check in from the side annex,” Sakura continued angrily.

He took in her furrowed brows and the way her deep green eyes narrowed in concentration. Her soft apricot skin he noted, had a dusting of freckles across her delicate nose bridge, and he caught a sliver of pink as she wet her lips. His mind began to work overtime as he realized she would find out he had no injuries.

“You’ve sustained absolutely no damage. Guess this is another thing you and Sasuke actually have in common,” she mentioned wryly.

He looked at her questioningly, still bent down towards her, wondering if he’d be able to smell her shampoo this close.

“Incredibly thick skulls,” she waved her hands absentmindedly.

Shisui stifled an indignant choke, as she continued while walking back to her desk. “So, why did you happen to randomly come through my window?” she said, as she settled back into the leather armchair. “I’m on the fifth floor and there’s no balcony. Surely you didn’t just…find yourself here.”

“No you’re right,” Shisui said, hands fiddling with a knickknack at the front of her desk, “I wanted to know if you,” he paused as she stared at his hands. Ah, he thought. Another social faux paus. “Wanted to…” he trailed off a little unsure and stared at her desk then at her Byakugo seal. “Get food?” He mentally slapped himself.

Sakura snorted. Shisui was beginning to hate being on the receiving end of her snorts.

“Nice save. I guess sustaining myself on applesauce probably isn’t the best way to go about life, huh?” She gathered her stash and dumped it into the wastebasket at the side of her desk and began to tidy the mountains of paperwork and files. “Sorry, but I have a surgery in twenty minutes I need to prep for, maybe another time Shisui-san. Unless you want to state your original purpose I’m afraid you’ll have to get out before you watch me go through a sixth pouch,” she said cheekily.

“Would you want to spar sometime,” Shisui blurted out.

“Ah, another Uchiha to beat up,” she smiled wickedly. “Are you sure though? Just ask your cousin, I beat the shit out of him every other week.”

“Sasu-chan’s strong, but he’s still learning,” he smirked. “I’m sure you’ll find me significantly more interesting.” He said confidently. Finally he thought. Easing his posture and leisurely putting his hands in his pockets while staring down at her. One topic of conversation where he wasn’t constantly putting his foot in his mouth.

“No,” she said slowly. “I mean your other cousin, Itachi. I beat the shit out of Sasuke like every day at training,” she scoffed. “His brother on the other hand is a little more… interesting.”

Shisui gaped. He hadn’t realized that Itachi had regular spars with anyone besides him and whatever team Itachi was assigned to. Shisui narrowed his eyes at the double life his cousin has been seemingly keeping secret.

Ripping him from his thoughts, Sakura got up and shuffled a few files underneath her arm. “I’ve got to go to the OR,” she explained. “That stands for operating room, since apparently you spend so little time in hospitals,” she said as she walked past him.

He sniffed at that.

“But if you’re available, we can spar this Sunday afternoon—I prefer the Uchiha training ground a kilometer away from the abandoned storehouse, but let me know what works for you,” Sakura said as she left Shisui standing in the middle of her office with a wave.

Once the door clicked shut he stared at the empty space at her desk. He barked out a disbelieving laugh and wrung his hands through his hair and paced in circles. He glanced around her office, noting the touches of personality between massive tomes of medical textbooks and scrolls.

A recent picture of team 7 on her desk, an orange throw blanket folded neatly at the end of the little gray couch tucked into the corner of the room. Little wooden figurines sat on her bookshelf, scrolls of traditional black ink art on her walls, a—was that a ceremonial Uchiha fan?

It was only their second meeting and she managed to knock him off balance once again.

She couldn’t make their Sunday spar, Sasuke relayed to Shisui, when his older cousin was prowling around his home looking for Itachi. She’d been sent on a diplomatic mission to Suna and it would take two weeks, Sasuke explained. After his curt explanation, Sasuke assessed Shisui and after a beat, narrowed his eyes at him.

Amused, Shisui poked at Sasuke’s cheek earning him a glare.

“What’s wrong Sasu-chan, jealous your teammate’s bored of you and wants to spar with stronger, more handsome Uchiha?” Shisui taunted.

At the insinuation that he was weak, and the unmentioned fact that Shisui was comparing Sasuke to Itachi, Sasuke bristled.

“Tch, it’s your broken bones, Shisui.”

“Who breaks bones during a spar?”

“Annoying medics.” Sasuke responded with an eye roll.

“Hm,” Shisui hummed and tipped his head back towards the sun. The pleasant warmth made him sigh and he closed his eyes to the sounds of tinkling wind chimes and distant children laughing. The back porch of the head family’s home opened into a serene garden. A sprawling tree that Itachi and Shisui used sit under while drinking tea sat next to a small koi pond where Sasuke would amuse himself by poking at the fish when he was younger.

He looked to the slightly open screen doors of the back porch and remembered why he came.

“Where’s Itachi, what’s he up to—do you know?”

“Making food with Kaa-san.”

“Ever the conversationalist, Sasuke. Did ‘Tachi and Mikoto Oba-san banish you to the back because you’re going through a hormonal spike?”

Sasuke gestured at the broom in his hand in obvious explanation. “Tch. I think they’re talking about their hair.”

Shisui laughed and Sasuke quirked his lip.

Sasuke and Shisui headed inside and heard the scrape of metal spoons against bowls and light music in the background.

“Coconut oil really increased the thickness of my hair and was an effective detangler. It’s unfortunate it’s only readily available in Suna. The import taxes make it overly expensive here.”

Mikoto hummed. “Well if it’s that effective I don’t mind trying it out, did you try the avocado mask I put in your bathroom?”

Shisui and Sasuke failed to cover up their snickers and were met with a menacing, spoon-wielding Mikoto.

“Now, I don’t want to hear anything from two boys who won’t put on sunscreen unless I tell them to. Sasuke,” Mikoto clucked, “Do you even exfoliate when I remind you to?”

Itachi laughed into his tea as Sasuke turned pink at his mother’s admonishing.

Wiping his hands on his apron, which Shisui amusedly noted was a pastel yellow with white trimming, Itachi turned back to scoop meat lightly in the middle of the circular dumpling wrapper.

“I asked Sakura to bring back coconut oil when she returns from her diplomatic meeting.”

“Nii-san you need to stop requesting random things from her, she’s not you courier,” Sasuke countered, taking a seat across the table where his brother and mother were working.

“She’s actually the one who offered and the one who first told me about coconut oil. Apparently,” Itachi picked at imaginary lint on his sleeve, “Hyuuga Neji-san gave her some…unsolicited advice,” he finished wryly.

Mikoto chuckled when Sasuke glared at the dumplings Mikoto was delicately pinching at the mention of Neji.

“What’s wrong, Sasu-chan,” Shisui sing-songed, throwing his arm across an indignant Sasuke, “Jealous of Neji-san? He does have pretty hair. By the way,” he said, watching Itachi’s hands, “Since when have you and Sakura-san been so close?”

Sasuke shoved Shisui off of him and scoffed. “That pompous stick up his a—sorry Kaa-san—was a dick—ah, sorry—to Sakura. And he’s not even that good looking.” Sasuke finished with a sniff and an apologetic smile towards his mother.

“And when did you and Sakura-san become friends?�� Shisui repeated himself to Itachi, not missing the way his Aunt and Sasuke glanced at each other.

“She’s Sasuke and Kakashi’s teammate,” Itachi responded slowly. “Plus, she accompanies me to the sweet shops and bakeries you and Sasuke refuse to try,” he added with a slight pout which Mikoto frowned at and Sasuke looked up exasperatedly.

Shisui chuckled at his cousin’s sweet tooth. “So, how did you become friends?” He tried again.

Sasuke looked at Shisui disgusted. “She’s my teammate,” he hissed.

Shisui ignored him and looked innocently at Itachi, exaggeratedly batting his eyelashes. Mikoto giggled at their antics.

“Shisui, are you interested in Sakura-chan?” she questioned eagerly.

“Obaa-san, I saw her throw a man into a table a few weeks ago,” he recalled excitedly, leaning in towards the table. “And then she told me she beats the shit—ah whoops, sorry—out of Sasuke and Itachi on the regular, how could I not be interested?”

Mikoto, Itachi, and Sasuke simultaneously raised an eyebrow at him and cocked their heads to the side. Creepy, Shisui internally shivered.

“Hn.”

“Are you…jealous, ‘Tachi?” Shisui asked incredulously.

“Tch,” Sasuke responded.

“God, I give up,” Shisui wailed to the bemusement of his family members and reached over to help Mikoto with the dumplings only to have Sasuke slap his hand away.

“Get away from those, you fold the ugliest dumplings.” Shisui gaped at his younger cousin in disbelief. “We’re freezing these for Sakura when she comes back—idiot never has real food in her fridge—don’t touch them,” Sasuke finished with a warning as Itachi nodded along with his brother.

Chuckling, Mikoto continued to expertly pinch the edges of the dumplings and absentmindedly hummed to herself. She drew up a mental Punnett square and slightly frowned at the low odds of having a pink-haired Uchiha baby.

#shisaku #shisui uchiha #sakura haruno #shisaku fanfiction #itachi uchiha #sasuke uchiha #mikoto uchiha

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authoressskr · 3 years

Text

Ruby Dragon Surprise (i)

Characters: f!Reader, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Mercy (*previously Y/N in Bucky’s Dragon Soulmate Story*), mentions of Peggy Carter

Warnings: Language and no Beta :: Notes: This particular story will probably be three parts, cause Steve is emotionally constipated :: Word Count: 4849

I went with a dragon!soulmate!au, which I hadn’t seen before, but I did have a nifty dream about it that spawned this whole idea. He’s still an Avenger. Events are basically still the same (not exactly the same...people are alive who died in the mcu), just with dragons. ‘Cause who wouldn’t love a dragon companion?? This will be an ongoing series with different Avengers finding their soulmates with their dragons.

Howlite and Hearts (Bucky)

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Since men emerged from caves, began using tools and reshaping their environment, they have been intrigued by the draconian terrors of all shapes and sizes that roamed the world. The first records of man and dragon working together are from Mesopotamia, pieces of shattered pottery pieced back together showing a dragon standing beside a woman. Assyrian artifacts depict water dragons helping farmers in the field. Egyptian murals show dragons protecting the Pharaoh and his family, others showing different breeds of dragon fetching books from inside the Library of Alexandria.

History is dotted with famous dragons and their bonded humans; King Arthur and his steel-colored dragon, Excalibur. William Shakespeare and his dragon, Bard. Cleopatra and Bucephalus, named after Alexander the Great’s legendary steed. Abraham Lincoln and his dragon, Crusoe.

Over the centuries, dragons have become smaller from the giants painted in mythology, old texts and wall murals. The biggest dragon these days are about the size of a large crocodile, with the biggest recorded in the last decade almost as big as a hippo. Height varies on the type of dragon - with the tallest one balancing on its tail, hits almost eye level with a giraffe.

Classes have been taught for centuries about dragons and the bond between them with humans. Dragons will sometimes die right after their human counterpart and vice versa. Dragons who have lost their counterpart will sometimes live, seeking out their counterpart’s soulmate to stay with their draconian mates as well. It is not an uncommon thing - especially after times of war - for soulmates to have both dragons if one has died.

Dragon pairs will usually have the same colors and markings, even though they will often not be the same type of dragon. Dragons may look similar to the human eye, but a dragon will know it’s mate no matter what. It has not been determined how the dragons know their mate almost instantaneously, but after millennia humans have begun to follow the dragon counterpart’s knowledge in this area. Marriages of alliance and royalty have often been changed or dropped when one party finds its soulmate. In the same vein, marriages have also been arranged due to this circumstance as well. Cinderella is the most referenced fairy tale of this, with Cinderella having the same sapphire and gold colored dragon as the prince (*Dragon color varies by region and culture).

Soulmate bonds are some of the strongest bonds in our world. Both between a dragon pair and between a human pair. And on the flip side of the Cinderella story, dragons will attempt to push their human partners together if the human counterpart doesn’t seem interested or could result in a rejection.

On the same page, a rejection of this bond - always by the human partner - can have devastating consequences. This broken or unformed bond may result in: at first, flu-like symptoms but can build up to more serious symptoms such as feeling weak or run down, tremors and/or tics, varying weight loss, chest pains and even very mild seizures have been documented. Usually the bond is mended or solidified before it comes to these more serious issues. There are also historic rumors of deaths from broken hearts due to rejections, which has yet to be scientifically proven. The aforementioned symptoms may require hospitalization.

To date no dragon has succumbed to any symptoms from their human counterparts due to the rejection of the bond, which dragon experts seem truly puzzled by due to the strong bonds that can be formed between a human and a dragon. Rejections, however, are rare and scientists aren’t yet sure of all possible symptoms associated with a rejection of a bond. Touch, however, is shown to remedy these symptoms in trials and is known to be a powerful connector between a human and it’s dragon partner as well.

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If there was one thing Steve Rogers knew, it was that Peggy Carter was his soulmate.

He’ll admit he doesn’t think of it as often as when he came out of the ice, but he does still think about it - about Peggy - every few days. More so when Bucky, Sam and himself are out for lunch or when he and Wanda may be grabbing some coffee, because that is when he sees soulmates together.

The way soulmates look at each other is different. Like they don’t just see the person before them, but everything they are and could be; all rolled into everything they love.

And he’s envious of that look.

He knows he hasn’t received it. And he truly believes he hasn’t given it either. Sometimes he chalks it up to not being actual bonded soulmates with Peggy. Because he knows that the love that was blossoming would have turned into that loving, enraptured gaze he always longed for.

It’s the thought that gets interrupted when his cell rings on the way back from their morning run. He quickly switches his coffee cup to his other hand to fish the phone from his pant pocket, revealing Tony’s face on the screen.

“Hey, Tony.”

“Need you, the bird and the metal popsicle back here asap. Got a hit on a Hydra offshoot. Wheels up in 30.”

“Got it. We’re just a few blocks from the Tower now.”

“Pick up the pace then, old man,” And the call ends. He looks at Sam and Bucky before tossing back what’s left of his coffee and throwing it in a nearby trash can.

“Mission. Wheels go up in 30.” Sam sighs at his words.

“Morning calls are rare, man. Must be big.”

“Hydra,” Bucky mutters with a shake of his head before polishing off his own coffee. “Come on. Gonna take most of that time to get the scalies ready.”

“You know,” Sam mutters with a smug grin as they all continue towards the Tower, “You’ve picked up your soulmate’s habit of calling the dragons weird names.” Sam tosses his empty cup and dodges a swat from Bucky.

“Jealousy is an ugly, ugly thing Sam…”

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Steve shifts in his place in the rafters, Rak wiggling on his back in response to peer over his shoulder down at the HYDRA agents. He nods at Bucky, who is perched across the building, just above the exit.

“Where’d you find this one?”

“Get this - a museum.” The blonde HYDRA agent cackles, leaving the brunet nodding, a serious look on his face. A loud clang of the door reveals two more HYDRA agents, dragging another person between them while a third agent follows behind with a tactical machine gun held tightly in his grip. If body shape is anything to go on, it’s a woman. A curvy and buxom one. Bucky quickly types out an update in Morse code to Natasha who is stationed outside with Sam and Tony as the brunet drags a heavy wooden chair into the middle of the room.

They toss the captive into the chair, zip tying their wrists behind them before pulling off the thick bag from their head. If looks could kill…

“Now, Miss, we are going to ask you a series of questions -”

“Fuck. Off.” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up at the venom in her tone.

“You don’t seem to know who we are.” Her jaw clenches as she looks away from the salt and pepper haired man who dragged her in. “Come now. I don’t want to injure you more than necessary…”

“Right.” She snaps, looking down at her lap with a sigh. The tall brunet who helped drag her in shifts to stand behind her, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking her head back. Her gasp makes Rak hiss in his ear, Steve feeling his claw tips through his suit. He tilts his head to rub it against Rak’s, offering that silent comfort to calm him down.

“Now, Miss, the first question is: You work in the nearby museum, correct?”

“Seeing as that’s where you took me from…” She gasps again as the hand tightens in her hair, bending her head back a little more. That’s when she notices Bucky in the rafters - quickly closing her eyes and sniffles loudly.

“What are you working on there?”

“Paleontology mostly. But when I started there I worked in the geology department. I’m a floater between departments since I don’t have my full degree yet.” The man relaxes his grip a little, pushing her head forward towards its normal position again.

“Rocks and bones.” The older agent chuckles before rubbing his hand over his graying beard. “Do you do anything else in the museum?”

“I assist only in the two departments. The only reason I help the geology is when the woman who regularly helps is gone cause she’s having a rough pregnancy.”

“Now we know that’s a lie. You spend a lot of time in the accounting office.” Her head is pulled back again so she’s looking at the ceiling again.

“I’m not sure you lot are aware that each department has a budget. I have to submit forms every month about the spending. Plus, one of the accountants is my friend.”

“So you are saying our intel is wrong?”

“Look, I’d like my head to stay attached, but yes, your intel is shit. Probably someone just looking not to be in the position I’m currently in.”

“So the museum isn’t looking into the dragons ancestors?”

“If they are, then I don’t know about it. I’m a peon!” She yanks her head from the man’s grasp and struggles in the chair.

“Little cherub, you are a terrible liar.”

“Listen asshat, I am keenly aware I’m a terrible liar. So I tend NOT to lie. Especially to someone who has tied me to a chair and has a fucking gun!!” He sighs, giving a little shake of his head before his hand shoots out and backhands her, making her head snap to the left. Rak’s claws pierce through his suit, smoke curling from his nostrils making Steve tense under him even more. He holds his hand up in a stopping motion, Bucky cocking his head slightly before Steve gestures over his shoulder at Rak.

“Woman, HYDRA has been looking for you for awhile.”

“Seems like a waste of time to me. I can’t have anything HYDRA could possibly want. Except maybe morals.”

“We don’t need morals in HYDRA.” The blonde grunts out from his leaning place against the wall.

“I’m aware. Ya ever think that’s why SHIELD and the Avengers whip your ass? Resign you to the shadows like the phantoms you are.” There is a loud enough explosion that everyone turns towards the exit, the men all tensing. “AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOUR SIGIL OR WHATEVER IT IS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING SENSE! HYDRA MEANS 5! WHY DOES YOUR SYMBOL HAVE 8? AND DO YOU ALL KNOW THAT THE HYDRA WAS DEFEATED???” Her head is sent sharply to the left again, blood trickling from her lip at the contact.

“WHO FOLLOWED YOU?!” The older agent snaps at the blonde and brunet who they saw first.

“NO ONE, SIR!” Bucky drops down just as Tony comes through the back exit, making Steve shimmy upright before he begins across the beams in the rafters to cut off their retreat.

He drops down with a dull thud, blocking the HYDRA agents as planned but the brunet with the machine gun has it pointed under the woman’s jaw.

“She’s not so sassy now,” The man in charge smirks out, stroking a finger down her cheek. He glances behind, seeing Bucky, Tony and Natasha behind him.

“You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.” Her words loud and clear as her gaze slides towards the older agent, the muzzle of the gun digging harder into her skin at her words.

“Snarky little bitch, isn’t she?”

“I like snark,” Tony mentions, looking to Natasha who just rolls her eyes. “But that’s because I’m just so good at it.”

“Release the girl, unharmed, and we’ll take you alive.” Steve offers, Rak’s nails digging into his shoulder once more as smoke begins to curl out of his nose again.

“How about no?” The agent whom had been silent this entire time speaks with a sneer, his little blue dragon’s head popping from a pocket in his utility pants.

Bucky lets loose a single round to the knee of the agent with the sub machine gun, making him buckle and the gun drop from his grip. That’s when Tony blasts the salt and pepper haired man past Steve as Natasha cuts the woman free, only for the woman to rush past Steve and the other agents deeper into the warehouse. Rak jumps from his shoulder and flys after her, prompting Steve to sigh as Bucky runs past, following after her and Rak.

“Does she realize the exit is the other way?!” Tony yells through the comms, taking a stance by where he’d entered to fend off dozens of incoming HYDRA. Two men run towards Steve only to stutter to the ground as electricity surges through their bodies.

“Thanks Nat.” He grunts before rushing through the doorway to find his best friend, his dragon and the directionally impaired woman.

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You’re trying desperately to remember the turns they’ve dragged you through, looking for the spot where they had separated the two of you and tossed a bag over your head. A man moves to grab you, only to be attacked by an aggressive ruby dragon. It then scrabbles up your legs and perches itself on your shoulder, urging you on with a little grunt. You tread a little more carefully after that, but no less urgent, a scream clogging your throat as someone grabs your shoulder from behind before slipping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t scream.” You nod as the former Winter Soldier comes into view. “You know, the easy exit was the other way.”

“I’m aware. But they tossed my dragon in a big plastic looking box then I got the bag and drag treatment.”

“This warehouse has two floors in the front half, did they take you upstairs at all?” A shake of your head is all you can manage before the dragon flits from your shoulder and begins running down the hallway. “I guess we follow Rak then. You stay behind me and if I tell you to do something -”

“Consider it done.” You agree before gently pushing at his arm to get him moving.

Rak doesn’t stop until he’s about two hallways off where you all stopped, hissing and sending several fiery breaths towards the small side dock where HYDRA agents were loading up your dragon.

“Velma!” Her answering screech is enough to get you moving, Sgt. Barnes hand shooting out to keep you behind him. He’s got two of them shot and Rak is mauling another when you see a silver blur knock out the other two. It’s only when you turn to your right do you see Captain America snatch his shield, holding it for a beat before turning to look at you. If looks could lecture...you’d be in for a loooong one.

But as he gives you that look all you can think of is that now all the douche HYDRA agents are now k-o’ed, so you rush over to the giant box, sticking your fingers through the big air holes to stroke at her muzzle, Rak chirping at Sgt. Barnes, who steps around your crouched form and snaps the two heavy duty locks off with his metal hand. Your dragon bursts from the cage and tackles you, curling herself around your chest and neck as best she can as you coo reassurances to her.

“We gotta go,” Steve takes hold of your elbow, helping you up as you heft Velma off the ground, her wings wrapping securely around you as you follow Captain America back the way you came. Rak is riding on his shoulder and moving his ruby head back and forth between you and the hallway ahead. The Black Widow joins you halfway back and takes point, an emerald green dragon with beautiful iridescent wings in shades of purples, blacks, greens and a few splashes of a pale yellow shimmer brightly even in the dim lights of the warehouse hallway. You let out a soft grunt, hefting Velma a little higher as your arms start to tire. “Almost there. I can carry her, if you like?” He doesn’t look at you when he offers, simply continues looking forward at his measured pace beside you.

“I can manage,” Your pride answers before your tired arms can get a word in, a smile twitching at his lips at your answer, which just makes your pride suddenly all the more determined to do it yourself. He moves forward when you all get back to where the attack began, Natasha taking his place before Falcon glides in through the hole in the wall.

“It’s all secure to the jet,” He reports as he lands. “Tony is circling the outer gates to make sure they don’t have anything else - hostages or weapons.”

“Alright. Let’s get her on the jet. We’ll look her over and call into the compound for the doctor to be ready when we arrive.”

“Already done,” Natasha confirms and they all move in a protective box around you and Velma, Falcon now on your right and Natasha on your left as the good Captain takes the lead and the Sergeant keeps his place in the rear.

You’re herded - there is no other way to put it really - onto this very expensive, military-looking, and slightly futuristic jet. Falcon gestures to a seat and you kneel in front of it, carefully dislodging your draconian partner before taking the seat. Her scaled head nudges your open hand, reminding you that you’ve both made it.

Safe echoes in your mind and you nod, meeting her light amethyst eyes.

Safe, you reply as she climbs awkwardly into the seat beside yours, laying her head on your thigh.

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“Baby,” She coos to the dragon, a shiver going up his spine at the softness and care in her tone, her hand sliding easily over it’s red scales as Sam returns to her side with a first aid kit.

“They do anything else besides these?” Sam asks gently, his finger brushing softly over her cheek where it’s already beginning to swell. A shake of her head is all she manages, “Okay, I’m gonna clean it with an alcohol pad.” Sam swipes it across her cheek and around the left side of her mouth to get off the dried blood. When he dabs just under her lip she hisses and so does Rak, her own dragon tensing up and curling it’s upper lip just enough to flash the tips of its teeth.

“Down, kids,” She mumbles out before Tony struts onto the jet.

“All clear. Let’s go home.” Tony sits beside her as the jet begins to ascend, both men’s gazes dropping to her free hand which is gripping the edge of her seat. “I’m Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“Dragon?”

“Velma.”

“Velma,” Tony repeats with a chuckle. “I like it. Suits you both. This is Jericho.”

“‘By faith the walls of Jericho fell’…is that right?”

“Exactly! ‘See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands’. My mother insisted that I know the Bible. I just liked the idea of marching and horns defeating a strong enemy. No bullets, no bombs; just faith.”

“Kind of goes against the initial sort of images of yourself, huh?” Tony leans in slightly, a grin flirting on his lips.

“Have you been talking to my wife?” She leans in too, their foreheads nearly touching.

“I think I’d remember talking to her.”

“She is very memorable.” He agrees, leaning back in the seat before waving his finger at her chest. “Buckle up. We should be there in about twenty or thirty.”

“Do you need anything?” Steve asks, Bucky’s eye popping open from his resting place in the corner and a tiny twitch of his lips making him want to glare at his best friend.

“No, thank you.” Steve nods, moving to the front to talk to Natasha when Rak flits to the floor and scurries over to her, his head tilted to one side with his begging eyes on. Steve moves to turn back to stop Rak from bothering her. “Get up here then,” A smile dancing in her eyes as he chirps happily, leaping easily into her lap and shaking his wings out before carefully settling down, his snout resting beside Velma’s.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re just nodding off when the jet lands, carefully tapping Velma and then Rak to wake them before stretching, wincing at the soreness in your face and neck.

Steve walks by you as the bay door opens before he whistles, Rak’s head perking up from the seat beside you, but he doesn’t move. This doesn’t seem to sit well with Steve, who glares at his partner like he’s betrayed him.

The dragon begrudgingly jumps down and stands at the Captain’s feet, an outstretched hand drawing you from the curiosity you felt watching Rak and Steve. You’re met with storm blue eyes and a small, easy smile.

“Come on, kid,” Unclicking from your seat, you accept his hand with a hushed thank you. You are hardly off the jet before a white marble blur nearly takes James down, his laughter ringing out before a woman appears just after, helping him up and the two of them disappearing into the building. You’re caught at a crossroads of sorts...Do you follow? Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?

“Are you Y/N?” You’re startled from your thoughts by a woman with thick black hair piled atop her head in a white lab coat.

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Hale. Natasha and Tony told us to be expecting you.” She gestures you forward, opposite to where the Avengers disappeared to. You follow obediently, with Velma trailing behind you, also looking to where they’d all gone. “Do you have any medical conditions we should be aware of?”

“No.”

“High blood pressure?”

“No, but if it’s high I was just taken hostage and then backhanded twice before having a gun shoved against my jaw while they tried to take my dragon.” She makes a face, eyebrows raised and fighting back a smile before she manages a big nod.

“Understandable...well let’s check all that. Was your dragon injured?”

“I ran my hands over all of her and she’s not injured that I can tell.” You look down at her, purple eyes alight. “You hurt, baby?” Velma shakes her head, her tail twitching slightly when she does so.

“Perfect. We’ll just check you over and then Tony should come get you.” All you can do is nod, following her into a very white and metallic exam room.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Steve’s voice can be heard through the door of his room, he’s sure of it.

Rak has snapped at him twice so far and nearly set his comforter on fire because he ordered him to stay put while he showered. Steve knew where he would wander off to and he told Rak he needs to let the doctor do their job and check them over. He had angrily settled down when Howl had come into the room, the bigger dragon tossing himself down onto Rak’s bed - successfully luring Rak to him and calming the little spitfire down long enough for Steve to get a shower.

Once he was out of the shower, Rak started up again, a stare off ensuing between the two of them while Howl looked on in amusement.

“I said no!” Steve snaps at the wyvern before clenching his jaw so tight he’s sure he hears a pop. Rak opens his mouth, flashing all his teeth only to snap it closed when Bucky’s soulmate sticks her head in.

“Sorry. I knocked, but you must not have heard...I was just looking for Howl.” Howl’s whole body shakes as he wiggles his way happily to her. “Tony just went to get the woman from the infirmary, just to let you know.” Steve scowls at her as Rak begins to follow Howl out the door.

“Hey! Best behavior. And you need to cut the whole hissing, snapping and fire at me, you little gas ball.” Rak snorts, almost giving an eye roll as Steve blocks the door. “Shoulder.” He points for emphasis, his partner huffing as he slowly climbs up onto his shoulder. “And stay there, do you understand?” He turns his ruby head away and Steve’s mind wanders to the impossible...but he quickly shakes that thought from his head.

When she enters the room with her dragon, her cheek and lip swollen a little more than an hour ago when he’d seen her.

Wanda gasps as she enters the room, looking from Rak to Velma, Rak doing the exact fucking opposite as he was told - flinging himself from Steve’s shoulder and running towards you and Velma - before giving a little squeal.

“I’ve never seen a dragon soulmate pair meeting!” Steve looks in confusion from the dragons to Wanda and then to the woman, the room now deadly silent except for the soft, contented growls coming from the pair of ruby dragons curled around each other at Y/N’s feet.

“What - no, that’s not - that’s not possible.” Steve snorts in disbelief after he manages his oh-so eloquent words. “No. She’s not my soulmate,” The words tumble from his lips before he has a chance to really think the situation over but his eyes still see everything.

They see the hope that was blossoming in her soft eyes and they see the confusion flash through those pretty eyes before the hurt makes the light die out in them, her eyes dropping to the floor quickly.

He opens his mouth to refute his own words - to apologize and take it back - when he sees Bucky glaring at him.

After all, hadn’t it been him who had told Bucky to go after his dragon and his soulmate? Who had told Bucky he’d give anything to be in his shoes? And now that he was, he had just rejected his soulmate.

You could hear a pin drop as he stands there gaping like a fish before managing to firmly close his mouth.

She’s staring at their dragons, snouts pressed along side each other with their wings touching, tails twined together before she looks up and blinks rapidly. He knows she’s willing the tears away and it physically hurts him to see her avert her eyes.

Clint steps forward, whispering in her ear before offering her his arm. Clint takes her past him, both of their dragons trailing eagerly after her and both blatantly ignoring his very existence.

“All clear boss,” comes a familiar accented voice, Steve can feel all of his family’s eyes boring into him before Natasha speaks up.

“What the actual hell, you dumbass?”

“My sentiments exactly.” Tony pipes up from behind her.

“Didn’t you say you wish you were in my shoes?” Sam just harrumphs at Bucky’s words from where he’s sitting on the couch by Bucky and his soulmate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” Wanda mutters among the other comments, worrying her bottom lip.

“It’s not your fault, Wanda,” Mercy soothes from the couch, hand gently squeezing Bucky’s as her dragon Cloud moves from her shoulder to Bucky’s, sensing his tenseness.

“Clint’s giving her a tour. She’ll be staying here until we can find out specifically why Hydra was after her. That should give you enough time to pull your head out of your ass,” Tony states while shoving his long sleeves up a bit on his forearms, hitting Steve with a “Sweet Jesus” side eye that Steve was all too well acquainted with.

“It just came out!”

“Like diarrhea…” Pietro says loudly from the kitchen, tossing a handful of grapes into his mouth. Steve glares at the male Maximoff, whom he literally didn’t even realize was in the damn kitchen.

“Again, it just came out. I didn’t even think about what I said!”

“That is abundantly clear,” Howl crawls into Bucky’s lap at his words, big eyes pleading to his human dad for pets to calm them both down, tail twacking Mercy who just rolls her eyes playfully at his needy and loving response to Bucky’s mood. Bucky smiling oh so softly at Howl and Mercy, as he strokes the oversized dragon taking up his lap.

Steve watches that and he aches for it. Those knowing looks to share with his soulmate.

But Peggy is gone.

And he doesn’t know where to go from here with this woman. Or the fact that Rak is completely convinced that Velma is his mate.

Because he is pretty sure she isn’t.

‘Pretty sure’ isn’t going to cut it for everyone else though. It definitely won’t be enough for Rak, that little gas ball of betrayal.

Steve was well and truly fucked.

Tagging: @moonbeambucky @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #authoressskr writes #dragon!soulmate!au #marvel fanfiction #steve x reader #part i

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missluthorwillseeyounow · 3 years

Text

Part III Wed By Candlelight (The Portrait of the Secret Bride)

Supercorp The Corpse Bride AU

Part I, Part II , AO3

EPILOGUE

The lush verdancy of the countryside unfurls itself on the road in front of Kara, and she rolls down the windows of her rental car to let the fresh air in. A deep inhale brings the smells of grass and earth, and Kara smiles to herself.

It's Kara's second day here. She'd gotten in late from her flight and she'd spent most of yesterday in her hotel room, jet-lagged and feeling barely human. The long flight, the bustle of the city, and the general fatigue that accompanies travel had settled on her and she'd allowed herself one day to recover in bed.

She would take longer to recuperate, maybe do some sightseeing in the city -- but honestly, she'd been too excited. So despite still feeling the effects of jet lag like a bad hangover, she'd taken her rented Subaru and set off for the countryside.

Alex would probably laugh at her impatience, but this moment has been two years in the making, Kara can hardly be blamed for being unable to wait.

Two years. Since the last time she'd dreamed about ghosts from the past. And in those two years, it's almost all she's been thinking about.

The book is almost finished.

For two years, Kara has been writing her family's secret legacy. Each page has been a loving chronicle of Lena and her Kara's story.

She's taken some liberties, of course. There are no records of what happened that fateful night, and the full story only lives in Kara's memories now. No one else knows, and apart from the portrait of Lena inside the locket around Kara's neck, there's no proof that this had even happened.

But it did. And now, it just needs an ending.

For the past two years, Kara has been combing through references, records, centuries-old documents to find information on the Luthor family. The last of the line were Lex and Lena, and the name had ended with them. With their deaths, the fortune had dissipated -- and of course, the home had been transformed by her ancestor and now belongs to Kara's family.

But Kara has something in her memories that records don't have.

Something Lex had said to Lena had wormed its way into Kara's mind all these years, and it still hasn't left.

“You’ve never been poisoned before, have you, little sister? Well, I have. Arsenic has a very mild odor. Usually, one would never recognize it, but I know because my bitch of a wife put it in my drink the night she left me, sneaking off like a frightened little rat, just like you were planning to.”

As loathe as she had been to recall Lex Luthor or his caustic words, once she remembered it, a theory had planted itself in Kara's brain, and it had taken hold.

All the records said that Lex had brought infamy to the family for killing his wife and child. But if Lex's wife had managed to escape him, then she may well have survived. And if she had, what happened to her baby? Was she able to take the child with her? If so, where did they go? What happened to them?

It's taken two years of careful research -- fueled by Kara's dedication to telling Lena's story, and her own natural curiosity -- to find out. Tracking down Lex Luthor's wife to her hometown, sifting through various names she might have used and tracking down descendants, finding exciting leads, and coming up against numerous dead ends.

And then three months ago, she'd finally tracked down a doctor living in the small town Kara’s heading to now, who -- if her theories are correct -- could be a long-lost descendant of Lex Luthor.

Kara had contacted her, explaining as much as she could about her book without totally freaking this stranger out. The doctor was very interested in hearing Kara's story -- if a little skeptical at first. She had been polite enough in her earlier emails, but the more Kara told her about the story, the more intrigued she became. And the stronger Kara’s conviction that her theories were correct became as well.

And now four months and a whole barrage of emails between them later, Kara's finally about to meet her.

Kara spies the charming little mailbox on the side of the road, and knows she's at the right place. She steers the rented Subaru into the road beyond it and curiously surveys the place.

As she turns the corner, she finds the picturesque cottage, half-hidden by ivy climbing up its walls and a small grove of blackthorn and aspen trees. Rows of bright little sea-lavender blooms line the walkway. A lovely tabby cat perched on the wall licking its paws completes the delightful picture.

Once she's parked, Kara self-consciously straightens her appearance. The fresh air helped with the jet lag a bit, but she still looks exactly like she got off a ten-hour flight.

She lets out an exasperated sigh as she straightens her button-up and tries to flatten her hair from where it had been blown all over her face during the ride. When she's satisfied, she takes a deep breath and approaches the door to ring the bell.

Kara is fiddling with her glasses as she waits -- a nervous habit -- and when the door opens, she nearly snaps them clean in half. She chokes as she gets her first sight of the doctor. "H-Hello."

"Yes?" The face on the other side of the door wrinkles slightly in confusion and concern at her tone and the expression of utter shock that Kara is wearing right now.

It's the same face in the locket resting over Kara's heart, nearly identical at first glance -- from the sharp angle of her jaw to the high forehead to the clear viridian eyes. It's as if the portrait has come to life right in front of Kara's eyes two hundred years later.

She feels an odd sensation in her chest that she can’t quite understand -- it’s at once a sting and a balm. It's been two years since Kara's seen that face outside of lines and brush strokes on a old memento.

But the longer Kara stares, the more she notices the differences. This woman's face is slightly rounder, her features just a degree softer, and she has a scar near her right eye.

The woman inches slightly away, and Kara realizes she's been staring at her for a full thirty seconds without saying anything. "Sorry. Y-you're Dr. Kieran?"

Kara almost wants to laugh, because of course this is Dr. Kieran. Of course Lex Luthor's last living descendant has his sister's face. Wherever that bastard is, he must surely be rolling in his grave.

"Oh, you're Kara Danvers!"

The woman's voice trills over a small laugh, and Kara can't help but stare more. Hearing her own name in that voice is so strange but delightful in a way that makes Kara shiver. That voice is familiar -- yet somehow lighter and more melodic than that of the woman Kara had met two years ago. The voice of a woman who didn't live under the shadow of the Luthor name, who didn’t spend so many years alone and nearly-forgotten.

"It's lovely to meet you." The woman opens the door wider and extends a hand toward Kara. "Please, call me Lena."

Something pings inside Kara at the name, and she takes the woman's hand with a smile she can’t contain.

"Hello, Lena. I'm so happy to finally meet you. I have so much to tell you."

_________

by SorrowsFlower

I had a note to myself that said “This is the year we finish fics, bitch! Yeah!” and actually 3 fics (out of my 8 SG fics) finished this year ain’t bad.

I’m optimistically making this into a series in the hopes that I can actually write the other scenes I thought up for this AU that didn’t make it in the fic.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #katie mcgrath #melissa benoist #supercorp au #tumblr is a chapter ahead but i'll be updating the ao3 link soon #Holy shit look at me being all optimistic wtf??

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flutteringphalanges · 3 years

Photo

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula implied Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: So sorry for the delay. I had a lot of unexpected things going on in my life. This chapter goes out to @mitsukatsu. Happy belated one year friendiversary! I’m so glad we have our friendship! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

Chapter Nine

Zoe found it rather unusual that the hospital decided to discharge her in the wee hours in the morning. Perhaps they needed an extra bed or just saw it fit to let the scientist go before the “morning rush”. Whatever the case, she wasn’t one to complain. Lying on her back, propped up on some cushions from the sofa, she stared upwards towards the ceiling, hands resting on the visible slope of her stomach. Tired. Nauseated. She just wanted to fall asleep and yet, her mind still reeling from the overload of new information prevented her from doing so.

“I can’t guarantee that it won’t taste dreadful seeing as it came from a can, but you need something to settle your stomach.”

The scientist didn’t turn her head to acknowledge Dracula as he strode into her living room. For some reason she had yet to put a finger on, Zoe had agreed to let him come in. Just for a few minutes. A few minutes that had turned into over an hour. Now the vampire had basically made himself at home in her own kitchen. As he went to place the bowl down on the coffee table, her eyes immediately flew over to the stack of documents the hospital had allowed her to keep. The lab results that could easily hold the keys she needed to begin unlocking the twins’ genetic codes.

“Careful!” She snapped, lunging forward to gather the papers as if they were some sort of precious artifact. “Do you realize how important these are?! The last thing I need is for them to be damaged.” Zoe eyed him incredulously, holding the documents close to her chest. “What even is that?”

“A proper acknowledgement of thanks would have sufficed.” The vampire exhaled, setting the dish down after a long moment. “And it’s some vegetable soup I found canned in your cupboard. Highly doubt it holds the nutrients your body needs, but in such a short span of time, it’s the best I could’ve come up with.” Dracula eyed the papers she clutched tightly. “Might I inquire what it is that you are doing? Or rather, plan to?”

Zoe seemed to ponder the idea of humoring him with an answer. “Research.” She responded curtly. “Which is why I cannot risk having anything spilling onto them. And besides,” the scientist frowned. “I am not hungry.”

Dracula’s lips pressed into a thin line as he eyed the scientist with visible annoyance. Taking in a deep, unnecessary breath, he forced a smile onto his face and pulled up a chair beside her. Zoe eyed him suspiciously as he folded his hands onto his lap.

“Two boys.” He mused, nodding at the idea. “It is a very welcoming thought knowing that the Dracula name will be continued.”

“The two chromosomes that determine the sex of our two babies should be the least of your concerns right now.” Zoe commented with a frown. “What should really be on your mind is what lies in their genetic makeup. Their overall DNA construction.” When she caught Dracula smiling, her frown deepened. “What?”

“You said our babies.” He replied with a smirk. “It’s nice to see you’re getting used to the idea of the two of us.”

“There is no two of us.” She replied point blank. “And if you continue to press my buttons, I can assure you there will only be one of us.” His continued look of amusement only made her blood boil hotter. “Why won’t you just leave? Your mere presence in my house right now is giving me a headache and I’ve already had one hell of a night.” Zoe gave a nod towards the door. “If you hurry, you can be back at your flat before you burn into a crisp.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Dracula chuckled. “Sometimes I have difficulty telling your regular attitude towards me from your hormones.” He watched as Zoe reached for the television clicker that sat on the table with the intention to beam it at him. “Alright, alright…” He gave in, holding his hands up. “I suppose I’ll leave you to your own devices, but only because you are in need of rest.” The vampire offered her a smile, though he did not receive one in return. “Get some rest, Dr. Van Helsing. I’ll be seeing you at the Harker Foundation soon enough.”

“I’ll wait for that with bated breath.” Zoe muttered, rolling her eyes. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Her eyes followed the Count as he made his way towards the exit, narrowing when he turned his head as if to say something.

“Rest well, Zoe.” Though his voice lacked any insincerity. “I mean it.”

Zoe said nothing as he turned away, opening the door before slipping out into the night. She listened for his footsteps, half expecting him to waltz right back into her home. When she was certain that he was gone, the scientist sighed and allowed her shoulders to relax. It had been quite the long night to say the least and the need to clear her mind enough for her to focus was at the top of her priorities.

“If I go as far to boldly assume you and Count Dracula are becoming closer, would that be a correct assumption?”

Zoe’s facial features tightly scrunched in aggravation as Agatha’s voice met her ears. Maybe if she ignored her. Maybe if she didn’t look in her direction. Perhaps the ghost of her great, great aunt would disappear. But despite the wait, the silence, she could still feel the specter’s presence.

“You are entering into dangerous territory, Zoe. You truly have no idea what he is capable of. While he acts as if he cares, the vampire is very skilled in the art of manipulation. If you fall into his trap, digging yourself out is nearly impossible.”

“I am far from having any relations with Count Dracula.” The scientist grumbled, opening her eyes but keeping them averted from where Agatha stood. “And I can handle myself quite well, thank you. I’d much appreciate it if you’d just go away.”

“Whether you realize it or not, my intentions are for your very own good. Your sanity isn’t in the strongest of places and it wouldn’t be right if I were to pass on without keeping an eye on you.” She paused for a moment before adding. “And Count Dracula.”

“You being in my life right now is what is making me insane.” Zoe countered with a long sigh. “Having to deal with a vampire AND a ghost is just another layer to the tipping tower of my anxiety. Not to mention I’m dealing with pregnancy on top of that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now please, I beg of you, leave me be. I need time to think things over.”

“I’m concerned you’re growing fickle with your loyalty to the Van Helsing name.” When Zoe didn’t respond to this, Agatha merely sighed. “Tread carefully, Zoe. Do not let what grows within you change who you really are.”

The scientist chewed on the inside of her cheek in a strong attempt to not respond. It would be wise on her part to not fuel the flames with her rather...pesky and persistent ancestor. After a very few, long moments, Zoe turned her head in the direction of where Agatha should’ve been. Just like Dracula had, the woman finally had the decency to leave. Exhaling, she rearranged her stack of papers and set them off to the side.

“You are causing me quite a lot of drama.” She mumbled, placing a hand on her stomach. It still felt kind of silly addressing them. It wasn’t as if they were even born. Yet sometimes it was oddly comforting. “But I am going to look on the brighter side of things and assume it will be all worth it in the end...I hope.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe caught sight of the bowl of soup Dracula had made for her. Pursing her lips, she gingerly lifted it from the table and studied it carefully. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t dare do anything to it that would harm her--or his offspring for that matter. And it did smell rather pleasant. Stomach rumbling, Zoe picked up the spoon. As she took in a mouthful, surprised at how good it tasted, she made a mental note to not let the vampire know she actually enjoyed it. He didn’t need the extra ego boost.

“We’re going to be okay.” She mumbled, looking down at her stomach. “The three of us…” Zoe took in another spoonful and glanced towards the paperwork. “I’ll make sure of it.”

XXX

Due to her doctor’s recommendation to take it easy as well as the unfortunate matter of cutting into her sick days, Zoe finally returned back to work at the Foundation. Though facing Bloxham was not the most pleasant of things to look forward to, the scientist had grown rather restless at home. There was only so much she could do research wise without a lab and no one to trust to know her secret.

Zoe frowned softly as ran her hand down the very visible bump of her stomach. Just in the past several days, she had begun to really show. Something she felt a little self-conscious about. Carrying twins made it look like she was much farther along than sixteen weeks. It still felt surreal that she was nearly five months along. How time had seemingly flown, slipping like sand between her fingers.

“Zoe, it’s wonderful to have you back!”

The warmth and welcoming sound of Jack’s voice greeted the scientist’s ears as her former mentee strode up and pulled her into a gentle hug. Out of all things, it was rather pleasant to see him again. He was, after all, one of the very few she could call her a true friend. Upon stepping back, the young doctor’s eyes scanned the woman over.

“You look great.” He commented, offering her a genuine smile. “It’s been rather dull without you here. Not much excitement.” He paused. “And Count Dracula hasn’t exactly made his presence known since your absence.” Jack shook his head at the thought as if trying to clear something from his mind. “Anyway, how are you feeling? Dr. Bloxham didn’t force you to come back, did she? You’re sure you feel alright to come back?”

“It’s lovely to see you too, Jack.” Zoe smiled softly. “And yes, I feel perfectly capable to return to the Foundation. I just needed time to recuperate. Doctor’s orders, not exactly what I had intended. But to maintain a healthy pregnancy is more important than my addiction to work.” She chuckled at that. “Good to know I haven’t missed much. There were moments where I had my concerns about how things were functioning.”

“Well, if you need anything, anything at all, just--”

But Jack was abruptly cut off by the clean, swooshing sound of two sliding doors opening. Both he and Zoe turned their head to see Bloxham entering the room with her ever present unreadable expression. Her eyes briefly flickered over at Jack before focusing on the other woman.

“Dr. Van Helsing.” She nodded, her tone flat. “I’m glad you’ve seen yourself fit enough to return to work. Your lack of participation has been noted but...excused.” Bloxham’s attention turned to the file folder of papers Zoe had tucked underneath one of her arms. “And those would be?”

“Prevalent to my work with Count Dracula.” Zoe said, trying to remain unsuspicious as she readjusted them in her grasp. “Nothing of great importance. Just something I had on hand while I was at home.” If her boss only knew what the contents within were. “I’m assuming that the Count will be paying us a visit later on tonight as per scheduled?”

Within the last several days, Zoe had received over a handful of texts from the vampire--of which she replied very few to. Just enough to keep him out of her hair. Since the hospital fiasco, this would be the first time in weeks they’d be face to face. A twinge of nervousness panged in the bottom of her stomach as Bloxham threw her a quizzical look before relaxing.

“See to it that tonight’s session meets our highest expectations. Due to your...holiday, we’ve lost valuable time with Dracula. It is unknown how long his willingness to come in will last.” Bloxham’s lips pursed together as she grabbed her magnetized badge. “I look forward to your findings, Dr. Van Helsing. Do not let me down.”

Zoe hadn’t realized she’d been literally biting her tongue onto the faint, metallic taste of blood met her taste buds. She ground her teeth as Bloxham walked casually away well aware that Jack’s eyes were on her. Exhaling, she turned to the young doctor.

“Well, that was friendlier than she usually is.” He attempted to joke, giving her a reassuring smile. “At least she didn’t chew you out. Why just last week, Henderson in forensics dropped a bunch of the new vials the Foundation had ordered and from the earful she gave him, I was convinced he was on his way out the door jobless with a box of broken glass.”

Not that she intended to let anyone near her experiments, Zoe made a mental note to avoid Henderson’s clumsiness at all cost. The last thing she needed was for all of her important work to go to waste. Vials were one thing, but what they would hold was a completely different matter.

“I’m going to go get situated.” She said, feigning a small smile. “I think it’s best I dive back into the thick of things. After all, I might as well busy myself before my version of Interview with a Vampire tonight.”

“Nice touch, Zoe.” Jack laughed. “Never took you for a movie type.”

“I suppose I’m full of surprises then.” She responded, unbeknownst to Jack how true that statement really was. “I’ll be seeing you then?”

“Bloxham has us all working overtime.” The young man answered. “So the chances of us crossing paths today are inevitable.”

“Good then.” Zoe nodded, clutching her documents. “I look forward to it.”

XXX

Though it wasn’t much, the small office like space designated to her personal belongings proved to be usable enough. Zoe exhaled as she sat down, pushing aside the clutter that had begun to build on her desk. Setting the folder onto a cleared spot, she opened it carefully. Still crisp as the night she had received them, Zoe peered down at the test results from the night at the hospital.

The hardest part of being homebound for two weeks was not having the access needed to further her research. Yet, Zoe was smart and resourceful enough to scour the internet for something, anything that would prove of use to her. And as luck would have it, she had found a possible piece to her ever growing puzzle.

“Cell-free fetal DNA…” She muttered, looking from the sticky note where she had scrawled the information down and then back to her computer screen. “Possible specimen matter. Requires blood to be drawn from the mother which, when tested, allows one to extract fetal DNA presented from the placenta that has been dispersed through the woman’s bloodstream.” The keys on her laptop clicked rapidly as Zoe’s eyes remained fixated on the screen. “Subject One: Dr. Zoe Van Helsing.”

Zoe leaned back in her chair and studied the text on the screen. Experimentation. It was something she had considered but never when it came to her being the subject. Absentmindedly, she placed a hand on the apex on her stomach. Going about this was going to be hard. Not to mention very difficult seeing as it was a top secret project. Especially since subject two’s involvement was undetermined at this point. For all of this to work, she would need his full, committed participation.

With a long sigh, she returned her fingers to the keyboard. “Subject Two: Count Dracula.”

Obtaining a blood sample from him would be the easiest part. Her reasoning for doing so she could fabricate. Zoe had all of the equipment at her disposal, it was just a matter of finding the time to use it for her own devices. A knock came at her door, causing the scientist to snap back to reality. Quickly stashing away the documents into her desk and closing her screen, she straightened up in her seat.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open to reveal one of Bloxham’s head guards. Zoe tried to ignore the pounding in her chest as he cleared his throat. Surely he had no idea of her plans. No one did. So why exactly did it feel like every artery in her body was about to burst?

“Dr. Bloxham wanted me to tell you that Count Dracula has arrived.” The man said, his tone emotionless. “I’ll be the one to escort you to the room.”

“Right then.” Zoe sighed, standing up slowly. “If you don’t mind me requesting privacy after you doing so, I believe it will be best if he and I were alone. He seems to be more willing to offer up information when it is just the two of us.” If any of this were to work, she’d need that in order to speak to him. “You may wait outside of the door if need be.”

The guard narrowed his eyes but gave a nod of confirmation. Slipping a voice recorder into her pocket, Zoe trailed behind the guard feeling slightly winded. The pregnancy was starting to take a toll on her whether she liked to admit it or not. As the guard slid the access card through the slot in the keypad, the thick metal doors glided open to reveal the familiar room with a table situated in the center.

“Ah, Zoe, so wonderful to see you again.”

Dracula sat at the opposite end of the table, his dark eyes fixed on the scientist as she stepped into the room. Motioning for the guard to exit, Zoe strode forward and took her usual spot across from him. She could feel his eyes taking in every inch of her body, focusing mostly on her stomach before they finally met hers.

“It’s been awhile.” He commented, leaning against the table. “I was beginning to grow concerned after I learned about your medical conundrum. I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

“Yes.” Zoe replied, straightening up. “I’ve been taking it easy.”

“Always good to follow a doctor’s order. Or rather, in today’s age.” He gave a small smile that Zoe struggled to tell was genuine or one of judgement. “So, what do you have planned today? Shall I give you more history about my existence, or have you something else in mind?”

“I require another sample of your blood.” She said, watching him carefully. “It’s for an important matter.”

“Color me intrigued.” The vampire said, resting his elbows on the table. “What exactly are you looking for this time? You aren’t going to lose them again, are you?”

“This is for an important matter.” Zoe said, a hand resting on her stomach in an attempt to give him a silent cue. “Your willingness to provide me another sample would be greatly appreciated and would prove vital in the cause…” She racked her brain, trying to think of a reason in case they were being monitored. “...A cause in learning more about your physiology.”

Dracula was silent for a moment. “Take what you must. I suppose it is for a good cause after all.” His eyes returned to her stomach. “I’m hoping you’ll keep me updated if you find anything of interest. You know I am a man of science.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Zoe nodded, relieved by his compliance. “Allow me to grab some vials.” Hopefully Henderson hadn’t destroyed the lot. “I will return momentarily.”

Dracula didn’t reply as Zoe made her way across the room and to a metal tray that had been set off to the side. There was no needle this time, it would prove useless as it had during their first attempt. The vampire already had his wrist exposed by the time Zoe returned to his side. Her stomach crawled as he drew his sharp nail across the pale skin creating an open wound. Holding the vial carefully, she collected the dark blood as it dripped down.

“Is that enough?” He asked, sounding surprisingly genuine.

“For now.” Zoe replied, quickly placing the top on and giving it a few turns. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” The vampire smirked softly, his skin already knitting back together. “I am at your service after all.”

Their eyes met, neither of them speaking. Something within Zoe began to stir that, at first, she thought was merely heartburn. But the longer they looked at each other, she came to the realization it was butterflies in her stomach. Feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, she bit down on her lip and immediately turned away. No, this was not happening. It was only hormones. Bloody hormones. She certainly wasn’t having the tiniest amount of feelings for him.

“I should go and take this to the lab before it expires.” She said quickly. “You can see yourself out, I presume?”

“Usually I am escorted so it isn’t a problem.” Dracula chuckled. “Same time as always?” He paused, causing Zoe to feel that much more uncomfortably hot. “You know how to reach me in case you require some personal assistance sooner.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She replied, clearing her throat. “I should really be going. Good night, Count Dracula.”

Before the vampire had a chance to reply, Zoe had already made her way to the double doors and exited the room. She said nothing as she brushed past the guard. Her mind was reeling so much so she hadn’t even realized she’d made it to the lab. Finally stopping to catch her breath, Zoe noticed that the area was vacant. With a sigh of relief, she made her way over to one of the counters.

FRAGILE. DO NOT TOUCH. She hoped this would keep Henderson and any others from messing with the contents. Looking over her shoulder, she quickly began to rummage through one of the drawers. Producing a long needle, she swallowed hard, slightly ill at the thought of what she was about to do. Despite the cancer and the various blood tests, her hate for needles had never lessened.

“I’m only doing this for you.” She mumbled, glancing down at her stomach before preparing the needle and syringe. “This better work.”

Tying a band around her upper arm, she felt around for a good vein. Taking a deep breath, she plunged the needle through her flesh and watched as a vial began to fill with her own blood. It was slightly lighter than Dracula’s, something she made a mental note of. Once she was convinced she had enough to work with, she removed the needle and topped the vial.

FRAGILE! DO NOT TOUGH. She scrawled upon the sticker, hoping that it would prevent others again from messing with it. Eyeing both vials, one belonging to her and the other to the vampire, she pursed her lips, turning her head to glance over at the slides and a nearby microscope.

Pulling out a voice recorder, Zoe cleared her throat before pressing record.

“Monday, April 25th. Experiment One. Testing cellular immortality.”

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #BBC Dracula #Zoe Van Helsing #Agatha Van Helsing #Gemini

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theculturedmarxist · 3 years

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Decolonization is not a metaphor

Kind of sucks for a lot of reasons, many of which I think are illustrated in their section about Occupy Oakland. (pg 25, 26)

As detailed by public intellectuals/bloggers such as Tequila Sovereign(Lenape scholar Joanne Barker), some Occupy sites, including Boston, Denver, Austin, and Albuquerque tried to engage in discussions about the problematic and colonial overtones of occupation (Barker, October 9, 2011). Barker blogs about a firsthand experience in bringing a proposal for a Memorandum of Solidarity with Indigenous Peoples,18 to the General Assembly in Occupy Oakland. The memorandum, signed by Corrina Gould, (Chochenyo Ohlone-the first peoples of Oakland/Ohlone), Barker, and numerous other Indigenous and non-Indigenous activist-scholars, called for the acknowledgement of Oakland as already occupied and on stolen land; of the ongoing defiance by Indigenous peoples in the U.S. and around the globe against imperialism, colonialism, and oppression; the need for genuine and respectful involvement of Indigenous peoples in the Occupy Oakland movement; and the aspiration to “Decolonize Oakland,” rather than re-occupy it. From Barker’s account of the responses from settler individuals to the memorandum,

Ultimately, what they [settler participants in Occupy Oakland] were asking is whether or not we were asking them, as non-indigenous people, the impossible? Would their solidarity with us require them to give up their lands, their resources, their ways of life, so that we –who numbered so few, after all –could have more? Could have it all? (Barker, October 30, 2011)

These responses, resistances by settler participants to the aspiration of decolonization in Occupy Oakland, illustrate the reluctance of some settlers to engage the prospect of decolonization beyond the metaphorical or figurative level. Further, they reveal the limitations to “solidarity,” without the willingness to acknowledge stolen land and how stolen land benefits settlers. “Genuine solidarity with indigenous peoples,” Barker continues, “assumes a basic understanding of how histories of colonization and imperialism have produced and still produce the legal and economic possibility for Oakland” (ibid., emphasis original).

For social justice movements, like Occupy, to truly aspire to decolonization non-metaphorically, they would impoverish, not enrich, the 99%+ settler population of United States. Decolonization eliminates settler property rights and settler sovereignty. It requires the abolition of land as property and upholds the sovereignty of Native land and people.

The only thing more shocking than already impoverished people rejecting the call to impoverish themselves further because of events that occurred hundreds of years before they were born is that a majority of the GA supported the endeavor, just not enough for it to actually carry.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON GA: DECOLONIZE

Although I had participated in many of the marches and demonstrations in the fall, including the stunning shutdown of the Port of Oakland, my involvement really began December 4, 2011. That week, the Sunday GA moved from the evening to 2:00 in the afternoon. We met in Oscar Grant Plaza (OGP), the Oakland civic center previously named Frank Ogawa Plaza. It was renamed when it was the site of the OO encampment, which was violently evicted; it was now tenuously claimed by an ongoing 24 hour vigil and the GAs several times a week.

There were a lot of people at this GA. I had no idea that we would be considering a highly contentious proposal. A group of Native people were proposing renaming Occupy Oakland—to be called “Decolonize Oakland.” A term describing colonization and expropriation was not one they wanted to claim for our movement, and they wanted their history acknowledged.

GAs began with an introduction, including the hand signals of approval (twinkling fingers), disapproval (limp fists nicknamed “Quan hands” after our mayor) and impatience (rolling arms to signal time to wrap up a rambling or off-topic speech). Then we separated into smaller groups for the “forum discussion.” The topic this week was “What does Occupy mean to you?” This turned out to be ambiguous and led many groups to focus on the proposed name change. There were many groups of about twenty people each. In my group the participants were diverse, respectful and lively.

What was supposed to happen next was report backs about forum discussions, with people summarizing what went on in different groups. It soon became clear that dozens of people were lining up “on stack” for a chance to speak for or against the motion. It seemed impossible to maintain the GA agenda structure. As I remember it, the facilitators took a straw pool to check in about changing the sequence, although some were disgruntled by this procedural move.

I was impressed by the diversity of speakers, the range of opinions, the level of passion and the skill of the two young facilitators. At one point one of them slowed things down by reminding us all of the emotions expressed at this GA—anger, pride, anxiety, conviction, excitement—I don’t remember the specifics but I remember thinking, “I’ve gone to political meetings for decades and I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone speak explicitly about the feelings in the room.”

The defenders of the Occupy “brand” spoke about the national impact of the shared name, but I remember thinking, “if we can’t even change our name after four months, how can we change the world?” I even got on stack to say this, but there was a very long line ahead of me and I had to leave before getting a chance (by then the GA had lasted more than three hours).

At that time the operating rules of the GA considered a 90% vote to be a consensus, approving the proposal, and allowed for amendments if 70 to 90% of the group voted in support of a proposal. I found out later that 68% had voted in favor and that the supporters of Decolonize had separated from OO as result. A couple of weeks later, on December 16, the GA shifted to the concept of a “living document” that could be amended on the spot, if the proposers agreed. I wonder whether that GA could have endorsed a compromise hybrid name like Decolonize/Occupy Oakland, and what might have been different if we had–or if we hadn’t been able to even do that.

I was impressed with the GA I attended as a vivid example of “direct democracy.” At the same time, the damage was evident. Some supporters of the indigenous people resented disrespectful treatment of their elders, while some of their allies made accusations of racism against the people who wanted to hold onto the name of Occupy. As I understand it, Decolonize Oakland continued to exist as a separate group and sometimes participated in shared actions with OO, but this GA prevented greater ongoing unity.

(Note: the minutes of this GA can be read at http://occupyoakland.org/2011/12/ga-minutes-12-4-11/ and the proposal can be read at http://occupyoakland.org/2011/12/emergency-proposal-3-on-queue-for-december-4-2011-ga-proposal-to-decolonize-oakland-creating-a-more-radical-movement/)

From the minutes:

F: We’re going to change this topic. Please discuss: What does this movement mean to you?

The historical context of “occupy” doesn’t fit with the goals of this movement.

Newer people who are just discovering that they are oppressed need to respect the work and presence of those who have already been in the struggle.

People are responding to what we are doing, not to our name. They are excited about the larger connection to the national movement.

As a daughter of Texas and as a single mom, I think we should stay in keeping with ancestors and elders to rename the space.

We, the congregation of First Christian Church of Oakland, advocate that this movement be renamed Decolonize Oakland. We would also advocate for CoExist in Oakland, to embrace all people.

The original intent was to occupy the seat of power.

The term occupy is racist. In these movements across the country, few people of color are involved. We have this opportunity to step up.

The history of Wall Street is built on the colonization of the indigenous people, and the slavery of Africans on the land. The seats of power are within us – we do not need to use the same paradigm of “taking seats of power.”

F: Many people are speaking about a proposal in queue, and are not speaking about the topic, “What does this movement mean to you?” Please make your comments about the topic.

This must be divine timing. We did talk about the forum topic. We accept the concept of “occupy” but we think that it’s time for a change that will reflect everyone’s histories and voices.

In our group, some people liked the term “occupy” because it’s a good brand and it connects to OWS. We agree that all people’s voices should be heard, but we don’t know how to make decolonize, liberate, and occupy meld together as one. Some people in our group preferred “liberate” than “decolonize” because “de-“ sounds negative.

This is an opportunity to hold corrupt systems accountable and to protest people who are vulnerable in these systems

F: Let’s see who would like to go straight to the vote? Who would like to go to pros and cons? We could try hearing 2 pros and 2 cons. It seems like many people would like to speak. We will hear as many as we can.

Pros

I am in support of this proposal as a white person. I stand in solidarity with all people in the movement. We need to support this proposal on the principle of people who are left out of this movement.

We need to acknowledge that some of us have white privilege.

As Jewish person, I cannot support Palestinian people in a movement named “Occupy.”

We will only be weakened when using the language of our oppressors. The divisiveness here today is a symptom of colonization. We need to listen to those who are most affected. Let’s do it.

This language shows how colonized our minds are. Let’s change the status quo.

I will vote yes on this if the people behind the proposal put their lives into increasing the movement.

I do not want to fly on the coattails of imperialism.

People can understand that we are a part of the global movement, just like “Arab Spring” or “Los Indignados.”

One way that violence is perpetuated is through language.

This issue is not just about indigenous people. It’s about recognizing the history of the shoulders we stand on.

This proposal has pushed the envelope of this conversation. It has made you uncomfortable – welcome to my world. This emergency has been on hold for over 500 years.

We are more than a brand. Let’s occupy, decolonize, and liberate this.

Cons

Feelings are more important than words. Words change. Occupy is used throughout the movement, so we should keep that word. We have broken the process by allowing an emergency proposal to be heard that is not an emergency.

We have also allowed proposers to speak for 10 minutes. I am an occupant. I live here. I’m not stating an opinion about the name change. We have not had time to develop this conversation.

[...]

Vote Results:

68.5 % approval: THIS PROPOSAL HAS BEEN TABLED

YES: 198

ABSTAINED: 19

NO: 91

(After some cheering, much confusion and agitation ensued. Several people started chanting “Decolonize Oakland” for about five minutes.) IMPROMPTU ANNOUNCEMENT(This was said in the midst of the crowd with the People’s Mic, not within the GA process). No matter how you voted, please realize something. Everyone has a place here. We all need to recognize the power of this conversation. We want people to come out and be part of Occupy Oakland. Figure out what you want. Start listening to the people! Be about it! I love you all!! (Another voice…partially muffled – I couldn’t hear everything amidst arguing and people have side conversation). We might hold our own GA. Stay connected with us. We have more work ahead of us.

======================================================

So a movement divided and a bunch of time wasted over a name change because some people didn’t think that their cause was being acknowledged enough. And even after a vote in which most people actually supported the motion and then actually left to form their own Decolonize Oakland group or whatever, they still get libeled as a bunch of callous “settlers”.

Between DINAM and Settlers, if these are the products of Decolonization theory then I can’t see any good in it. It sounds like it wants to pretend to be egalitarian and anti-property, while at the same time privileging one group above all others and ensuring their own property rights to their land, at the expense of everyone else living on it. And yes, at the expense of everyone else living on it:

Not unique, the United States,as a settler colonial nation-state, also operates as an empire-utilizing external forms and internal forms of colonization simultaneous to the settler colonial project. This means, and this is perplexing to some, that dispossessed people are brought onto seized Indigenous land through other colonial projects. Other colonial projects include enslavement, as discussed, but also military recruitment, low-wage and high-wage labor recruitment (such as agricultural workers and overseas-trained engineers), and displacement/migration (such as the coerced immigration from nations torn by U.S. wars or devastated by U.S. economic policy). In this set of settler colonial relations, colonial subjects who are displaced by external colonialism, as well as racialized and minoritized by internal colonialism, still occupy and settle stolen Indigenous land. Settlers are diverse, not just of white European descent, and include people of color, even from other colonial contexts. This tightly wound set of conditions and racialized, globalized relations exponentially complicates what is meant by decolonization, and by solidarity,against settler colonial forces.

So when they’re saying “to support us you have to impoverish all the settlers, ie, everyone that isn’t us,” they’re being very literal. It’s just more bourgeois identity politics cooked up by privileged people in academic institutions.

Into the trash it goes.

#settlers #sakai #decolonization #decolonisation #decolonization is not a metaphor #occupy oakland #occupy wall street #identity politics

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