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greenteaandtattoos · 3 years

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Memories like Thorns: A Ruby Rose One-Shot

Ruby slung the red skirt and cape over the makeshift clothesline that she had made with some sticks she had found lying on the beach and rope she had stashed in her pockets after the incident with the Ace Ops and the Command Center in Atlas.

The sand was warm beneath her bare feet, her boots drying nearby. Her belt, tights, corset, and forearm bracers were laid out on a rock. She hoped they would absorb the heat from the face of the rock and dry faster. She had used a sharp stone to tear off the long-sleeves of her dress and discarded them entirely. It was hot, and she didn’t want to suffer from heatstroke. Crescent Rose rested against a giant seashell.

So, there she stood, in just her shorts and a now-sleeveless blouse. She sighed.

How did it come to this? She remembered the cruel triumph on Cinder’s face as she loomed above her as Ruby clung to the leg of Neo, the girl who had been trying to kill her only moments ago. She remembered the screams of Blake and Penny. She remembered Blake’s grip on her as she attempted to rescue her. She remembered the feeling in her stomach as she and Blake fell after Cinder cut the ribbon on Gambol Shroud, sending them falling to their deaths. She remembered the feeling of free-falling, and then crashing into water, which she eventually discovered was the ocean of this world she could only assume was the afterlife.

She had been lucky her father had taught Ruby and Yang how to swim at a young age. She had managed to swim to the surface of the ocean, spitting up salt water. Through her blurry and burning vision, she had seen the island not too far from where she had fallen, and had managed to swim to the surface. After lying in the sand for what felt like a couple of hours, she had managed to get to her feet and function properly. It was warm now, but who knows what it would get during the night, and she didn’t want to risk freezing.

Not that I can die twice, she thought dryly. Gazing around, she finally took in her surroundings. The sand that made up the beach was tawny in color, and all around her were flourishing trees and colorful flowers. The giant seashell she had rested Crescent Rose against was just one of many that dotted the beach. A massive cliff loomed over her, and on top of that was a tree of gargantuan size, sporting rainbow foliage. Beyond that… she didn’t know, but she heard birdsong.

“We should have asked for guardrails,” Ruby muttered to herself, mentally scolding herself for not thinking of everything like she had hoped. We made more than one foolish oversight, she thought, referring to how they had so easily forgotten that Penny wasn’t the only maiden in Atlas.

Then, I wonder where the others are? Though she and Blake had lost hold on each other when they fell, she was fairly certain she should have fallen somewhat close to her. Yang… she had no idea. Weiss and Penny and Jaune, I hope they’re okay. Last she had seen, they were okay.

Oscar. The thought of the former farmhand scorched through her mind, and she clutched her chest. She hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Oscar.

All of a sudden, a horrifying thought entered her mind. Uncle Qrow. He doesn’t know what happened to us. When he does learn… Oh gods, he’s lost all of his family, now. The thought made her want to vomit and her knees weak. She stumbled and managed to catch herself on one of the branches she had used to make the makeshift clothesline. Her cape, still damp but warm from the sun, brushed against her cheek. She froze suddenly, a memory surfacing.

The feel of velvet brushing against her face, a crimson swathe enveloping her, the warmth of familiar arms wrapped around her in a warm hug. Silver eyes flashed above her as her mother gazed at her, unending love swimming in them. She smiled widely as she clasped her arms around the child in a tight hug, bundling her in her cape. The warmth and the velvet were snug and the child couldn’t imagine leaving the warmth of her mother’s embrace.

Ruby took a step back, her focus returning to the present. She stared at her own crimson clothes. She reached out to touch the cape that had been with her through thick and thin. She grasped it tightly, feeling the damp cloth wrap around her hand.

Her mother’s hug before she left on her final mission was one of the only memories she had of her mother. Her final mission. She grit her teeth. Her final mission that led to her falling into Salem’s clutches. To be experimented on, to be subjected to horrors unfathomable.

All so Salem could spit into Ozpin’s and the God of Light’s face, she thought bitterly. She could imagine the cruel glee that Salem must have felt when she discovered that she could turn the God of Light’s warriors into her own. Her hands trembled, out of anger or fear, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

She remembered Oscar’s lament after they picked him up from the slums. “Every choice I made was the wrong one,” he had said forlornly. But it was her choices that had been wrong at every turn. It was her choice to lie to Ironwood, to waste time trying to put out a message with the naive assumption that help would come. Anger and regret surged through her forcing her to sit down. She criss-crossed her legs and stared up at her drying clothes. She wanted nothing more than to be lost in the red, like she was so long ago while in the embrace of her mother.

When she was younger, she had tried very hard not to lie. After all, heroes in fairy tales didn’t lie. They were truthful and brave, and she wanted to be just like them. Of course, she had told little white lies here and there, like when she ate all the raw cookie dough that Yang had made to bake cookies. She remembered when she told her first big lie.

It had been when she first got accepted into Signal Academy, and she chose her combat gear. When she returned home from shopping, decked in all red - and most notably - a red cape, the look on her family’s faces was unforgettable. Qrow - who had come over for a visit - and her father had looked at her with strange, twisted expressions, which in hindsight, she realized was because she looked so similar to her mother.

Yang, on the other hand, had been so proud. “Copying Uncle Qrow, eh?” Yang had asked, in a knowing, teasing voice, jabbing her with her elbows. “The red suits you. Matches your hair.”

The twisted expression had melted off Qrow’s face, replaced with immense pride. “You look good, kiddo. Everyone will know you’re my niece, all right,” he had crowed. Mischief glinted in his pinkish-red gaze as he added, “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you. No favoritism from me. Nope.”

They had looked so happy, and Ruby hadn’t been able to remember the last time the whole family had been so happy, all together like that. Qrow and her father could rarely be in the same room without an argument breaking out, and Yang spent more time at school or hanging out with her school friends than at home.

“Yeah!” Ruby had laughed with them. “I just wanted to look like my hero!” Qrow had puffed out his chest and stretched out an arm ruffling her hair. But deep down, she wasn’t laughing, because it wasn’t true. She hadn’t picked her outfit to look like Qrow. She had chosen the red-soled boots and the corset and the cape because when she thought back to her mother, all she could see was red. From pictures around the house, she knew her mother had a white cape, with a crimson interior.

All she could remember of her mother was the warm embrace of arms hugged tightly around her, the feel of velvet on her face, and bright red. It had been like being embraced by rose petals. And so, when she saw the crimson cape hanging on the clothes hanger, nearly hidden by other capes of varying colors, she had picked it almost immediately. From there, she picked out the rest of her outfit based on the cape and complimentary colors. When she had put it on in the dressing room, it had felt so right.

But she hadn’t wanted to ruin the moment, and so she lied. Guilt had squirmed in her stomach for days after. She had finally managed to dispel it after she convinced herself that by lying, she was keeping her family from feeling sad. She remembered quite vividly how her father got whenever she brought up her mother. He seemed to wither, and while pride and love glimmered in his eyes whenever he spoke of his former partner, his voice became hollow.

Another lie, one that she kept to herself and told no one, was that she was jealous of Yang. She loved her sister more than anything, but sometimes jealousy burned hot in her stomach when she talked about their mother. Because Yang remembered her more than Ruby, and it made her feel emotions that she hated herself for feeling.

It had been a new memory of her mother that had allowed her to activate her eyes against the Leviathan. She had been so excited about the new memory that she had told Yang. Yang had been so happy, and had gone on a long tangent about their mother in an attempt to jog some more memories out of Ruby. Ruby had once again felt the hot bubbles of jealousy in her stomach.

And when Salem had caused a new memory to surface, Ruby had never felt such despair in her life. She remembered the witch’s words, she had burned them into her mind. “Your mother said those words to me. She was wrong, too.”

And then that attacked the Schnee Manor. She remembered the face of the Faunus that had been revealed to be the core of the Hound Grimm. Horrific scars and boils and patches of raw, exposed muscle covered his face and neck, and a strange white spider-web-like substance covered half of his face. Ruby could only assume that Salem had removed his eye on that side. His eye… She had noticed it right away, the dull flash of silver from his remaining eye. He had looked at her, his eye void of any emotion and yet full of an agony that he could not voice as he repeated the same sentence over and over. “Take. The Girl.”

The answer to the question she had asked for 15 years came to her in an instant. This was what had happened to her mother. This was why she never returned. When she had told Yang of her suspicion, for once, she did not feel any jealousy as Yang broke down. All she could feel was overwhelming sorrow and guilt as Yang attempted to comfort her because she knew. She knew why her mother had left her and her family to face Salem.

It was because of her. Because she had inherited her mother’s eyes, and became a target that Salem would eventually come for. For once, she had cursed herself for the color of her eyes. She had previously thought of her eyes as a way to help people, but all they had done was sentence her mother, and indirectly, every silver-eyed warrior that came after her, to a fate worse than death.

She shifted in the sand. A warm, moist wind blew through her hair. None of it mattered now. Because her eyes had failed her, and she had failed her friends, her family, and now she was here. She was dead. She took a deep breath of the salt-scented air. Her heart was rolling with emotions, but all she could do was sit there.

A new sound reached her ears, breaking the lull of birdsong. She instantly became alert. She quickly rose to her feet and snatched up Crescent Rose, brandishing it as her eyes scanned the treeline, where the noise had come from.

A crack of a foot breaking a twig, the rustle of a body brushing against leaves. She tightened her grip on Crescent Rose. A thought suddenly came to her. Wait. I’m dead. Whatever is out there can’t kill me.

The thought wasn’t very comforting, but she did relax her shoulders, keeping her eyes on the treeline, waiting for whatever creature was in there to emerge. Then she saw it, the flash of white, the gleam of silver in sunlight, and the furry black ears that twitched with each step.

Ruby lowered her scythe.

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby 9 hiatus #rwby one-shot #angst was ordered today #summer rose #qrow branwen #yang xiao long

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thanksjro · 3 years

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More Than Meets the Eye #29 - The One Where Everyone Gets Super Shiny

Our issue opens up with Swerve laying down the Story So Far in the Exposition Dimension.

Fantastic, you funky little man.

If Swerve looks like he’s been tossed through the car wash a few dozen times, it’s because this is where our new colorist comes in! Everyone, please say hello to Joana Lafuente- known for her love of gradients and attention to light sources, this actually isn’t the first time we’ve run into her. Lafuente worked on colors for several issues of The Transformers (2009), Last Stand of the Wreckers #3, and a few issues of MTMTE Season 1. However, she was matching the styles of her co-colorists on a majority of these, so we haven’t seen her style properly until now.

Getting into the story proper, Cyclonus is busying himself with staring out the window at a PNG of space, as he is wont to do, when he hears the tell-tale sound of tires squealing down the hall towards his room. Oh, goodness, whoever could that be?

Nearly forgot about him, didn’t you? Yeah, it’s a little difficult to follow up on things like a character’s recovery from a horrific disease when you’ve got comic event contract obligations to deal with.

After getting tackled by Tailgate, who reminds us all about the time he stuck his dirty little fingers into a dude’s brain meat, Cyclonus takes the little nerd on a walk through the ship.

You’re not going to convince me to reread “Dark Cybertron”. I don’t care how much of a marshmallow you are, it’s not happening.

They’re passed by Megatron and a bunch of crew members carrying that coffin we saw at the end of last issue down the corridor, Tailgate has a moment, and we get a taste of Cyclonus’ distaste for the Autobots as a whole. Tailgate is mildly offended by this, as he gropes his chest in distain, showing off his shiny new Autobot badge- a gift for not dying a terrible, gruesome death.

Good job, Tailgate. Proud of you.

They’re also passed by an absolutely blitzed Jackpot and Mainframe, the former singing Tailgate’s Tyrest-stopping praises as the latter carts him over to the Medibay to deal with the almost alcohol poisoning he’s got going on. Cyclonus remarks that Tailgate was missed, though Tailgate can’t help but wonder if that’s really true.

Y’all like slowburn romance, right? Because these two dumbasses have been roommates for two years, and we’ve just gotten to the point where physical contact can happen without one of them needing to be dying.

Anyway, it’s been a good day for Tailgate so far. Let’s hope it stays that way for the little dude.

...And that’s a series wrap on Tailgate! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

Hopping back in time to Megatron’s trial, things get underway, as Optimus Prime takes a nap in the judge’s bench as Gripper- whose name you don’t need to remember, as he’s not actually important- tells everyone about how brutal the Decepticon Justice Division is, even to Autobots. Which isn’t really supposed to be their deal, given their, y’know, name, but I suppose nobody’s perfect.

Up in the stands, in an… opera box, I guess? Rodimus is watching the proceedings, when Atomizer walks in. Which I guess you can just do in a Cybertronian court case. Sure.

Atomizer, in case you forgot, is the dude who has a bow and arrow, and used to be an interior designer.

Say, didn’t Whirl has a bow and arrow in the last issue when he attacked Megatron? Mighty curious, that.

Rodimus and Atomizer briefly reflect on the DJD, recalling the horror that was Vos- not that Vos, the other one. Rodimus would really just rather this all be over with so the Lost Light can get back to finding the Knights of Cybertron, and it’s at this point that Atomizer breaks out a thing he really ought not have- the count for the vote on whether or not Rodimus should stay on as captain. Rodimus doesn’t want to look at it, because it was supposed to be anonymous for a reason, and tells Atomizer to destroy the list entirely.

Hm, that’s not a terribly determined face there, Rodimus.

Back in the present, specifically in Swerve’s, Groove is threatening to break Streetwise’s arm, as we get the downlow on just what exactly our Legislator buddy’s deal is. Turn’s out, Swerve got one of the things reprogrammed, so that he follows not the Autobot Code, but something else entirely.

Hey, Swerve?

I don’t expect you to know this, because I don’t think you were present when they revealed this information to the readers, but… your new bouncer is made of people. He’s a dude made of other dudes, namely the Circle of Light. There’s a chance that you reprogrammed a sentient being, my good bitch.

Anyway, Swerve’s in a fucking mood because his shoulder hurts, someone’s stealing his shit, and Megatron has joined the narrative. Over at a nearby table, Skids, Nautica, and Riptide take a gander at the tabloids. Trailcutter, who is positively smashed, to the point where he’s just leaking booze out of his face like it’s his job, isn’t terribly interested in that, however.

What an astute observation, Riptide. And people say you’re stupid!

Trailcutter wants to drink some more, because it’s very likely he’s got a problem, but the mention of “Megatron’s super fuel” makes him feel like it’s time to stop hounding Swerve and start performing crimes.

Back during the trial, we get to Starscream’s testimony. He’s wearing his crown. He’s acting like a self-righteous asshole, as he defends Megatron.

Well, “defend” in the technical, legal sense, I suppose.

But really it’s more about him insulting Megatron’s intelligence, strength, and courage, in front of a LOT of people, while also trying to make himself look better in the war crime department. Megatron doesn’t appreciate this very much, if his murder-face is anything to go by.

Megatron lets Ultra Magnus (his defender, if you’ll recall) know that he wants a private word, and court goes into a brief recess.

Back in the present, Nightbeat’s busy looking at a pin-up of Rung’s alt-mode, when someone knocks on his door. That someone is Chromedome, who’s trying to solve the mystery of The Missing Declaration of Love. Not that he says that specifically out loud.

You two were married, why- okay. No point in yelling at this digital copy of a comic book.

Anyway.

So, the whole screaming thing only happened the one time, and everything was back to normal on subsequent plays of Rewind’s message. Nightbeat seems to be leaning towards the depressive isolating getting to Chromedome, which Chromedome responds to by telling him to get the fuck out. Alas, someone’s blocking the door!

YO WHAT THE FUCK-

Back with Trailcutter’s subplot, our drunken friend is in the middle of breaking into the Medibay. Our trio of cool-colored pals watch him from back at the bar, by way of a laptop that looks like it was built the same year I was born.

As Trailcutter attempts to commit a crime, Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Ratchet pass by, trying to figure out how to handle the whole coffin situation. Trailcutter’s about to punch the locks off a door, and Nautica decides that this is where she’s going to draw the line today, leaving the gaggle of fools to their shenanigans. Then Tailgate glomps Skids, throwing the computer to the ground and breaking it, as Trailcutter finds the door to the Medibay magically open.

If you don’t know what glomping is, there’s a 60% chance that you’re not old enough to vote in the US.

Trailcutter sneaks into the Medibay, we get a reminder that Ambulon is super dead, and Trailcutter commits theft from a food bank. What a guy.

This is the point where security shows up, armed with a great deal of guns, one of which is Megatron himself. Trailcutter, instead of feeling super powerful, actually feels positively awful after consuming Megatron’s rations of “super fuel”. Because he, as an Autobot, doesn’t want to be within 50 yards of Megatron, Trailcutter breaks out the forcefields the moment the guy approaches him. And oh, what a doozy this one is.

Trailcutter’s gotten himself a fancy new trick- this forcefield he’s broken out lasts for a solid half-hour, and he can’t turn it off. I’m sure that won’t bite him in the ass at any point in the near future, no-siree!

Back in the past, Rattrap is commending Starscream on playing the field and getting the public slightly more on his side, but Starscream’s too busy patting himself on the back to really pay attention. He knew damn well that Megatron wouldn’t like what he had to say on the stand, and now things are finally looking up for ol’ Screamer.

Over with Optimus Prime, Slamdance is showing off how the general public is really into this whole “folks being held accountable for their actions” thing.

In the present, Chromedome and Nightbeat seem to have remembered they have alt-modes and are driving down the hall back to Nightbeat’s room- wonder what the speed limit for the Lost Light is?- and discuss just what the hell happened. The current theory is that the Rewind they saw was a Data Ghost- a collection of information so dense, it had a not-quite-physical presence that wasn’t 100% removed when he died.

Which is a little fucked up, but let’s see where this goes.

Nightbeat undoes the 40,000 locks on his door while Chromedome bleeds guilt all over the shag carpet over the fact that he hasn’t been looking for Dominus Ambus like he said he would.

C’mon James, gimme that Chromedominus endgame.

Nightbeat finally opens the door to find a small problem.

Hm. That’s… not normal.

Over in the Medibay, Trailcutter’s bubble has burst, allowing Megatron to slap him in the back of the head. This head-slapping induces his FIM chip permanently, making it so that he can never get drunk again.

Weird party trick, Megatron. Kinda shitty, really.

Megatron then gives Trailcutter the job of director of security, because he needs direction in his life. Trailcutter just sort of takes what he’s given, because I suppose you can’t really argue with a guy who can literally slap you sober, and also threatens to destroy you if you fuck up even once. Nice, Megs. Nice.

MEGATRON THAT’S BEEN SITTING LIKE THAT FOR OVER HALF AN HOUR YOU FUCKING WET NOODLE

So, since there’s mystery juice all over the floor and no one’s died, Megatron assumes that the coffin ought to be fine to crack open.

Please note that Megatron is not a medical professional, and his views are now peer reviewed by medical professionals. Megatron is in no way endorsed by the WHO.

Anyway, Rodimus is in there.

Pretty fucked up.

Back in the past, recess is over, and Ultra Magnus comes bearing bad news- Megatron wants to change his plea to “innocent.” This gets about the reaction one would expect from just about anyone.

Well, except Rodimus, who’s too busy reading that list that he wanted destroyed. He’s very sad about it.

I know, what a bummer!

#transformers #jro #MTMTE #world shut your mouth #issue 29 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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kyndaris · 3 years

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Pray Forgive this Discourtesy of an Impression

Many of my friends - and by extension, I also include you dear readers of this blog - know, I have been a fan of the Ace Attorney series for a very long time. It began in the days of my youth, when I discovered Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney for the Nintendo DS. As someone that was interested in legal proceedings but was unsure of actually taking the step of becoming an actual barrister in court, it helped feed my very unique itch of shouting OBJECTION! and pointing at the counsel opposite me.

That and the fact that the lawyers of the franchise were also amateur sleuths, piecing together the truth of whatever crime had actually been perpetrated and denouncing the witnesses brought in to testify as the actual masterminds.

Honestly, I wish court cases in real life were this exciting.

Even back then, the idea of acting the sleuth and figuring out the intricacies behind a complex plot of murder had me salivating. It did not help that I had read Arthur Conan Doyle’s collection of stories about a world-renowned detective and hoped to emulate his ability to make rapid deductions based on simple observation.

So, when The Great Ace Attorney was first announced, I was justifiable excited. To play as the ancestor of the great Phoenx Wright? Interact with Sherlock Holmes in 19th century London? WHERE DO I SELL MY SOUL TO?

To my great dismay, however, there were no immediate plans to release the games in the West. In fact, I even pondered on whether or not I should indulge in obtaining a fan translated copy (or watch a playthrough).

As the years passed, I lost hope that there would ever be a release of The Great Ace Attorney games in the West. And so, life went on.

UNTIL OF COURSE, THEY ANNOUNCED THAT IT WOULD BE RELEASED! IN JULY 2021! AND THOUGH MY SPIRIT WAS A LITTLE CRUSHED TO HEAR THAT THERE WOULD BE NO PHYSICAL RELEASE IN AUSTRALIA, I QUICKLY PUT THE GAME ON MY NINTENDO ESTORE WISHLIST, READY FOR PURCHASE!

When release day came, I was pumped to dive into the world of finger-pointing and strange reversals where the defence attorney had to prove their client innocent beyond all reasonable doubt. The game itself begins with Ryunosuke Naruhodo, a student of Yumei University being accused of murdering a visiting professor: John H. Wilson. At his side is his best friend: Kazuma Asogi, a practicing law student.

Wishing not to dash his friend’s dreams of travelling to Britain (should the trial not be won), Ryunosuke steps up to represent himself. Valiantly, he battles against Prosecutor Auchi. And just like his descendant, fumbles his way through to the inevitable truth. That he was setup and that the actual culprit was a person hidden under plain view: an English gentlewoman by the name of Jezaille Brett. She had murdered the esteemed professor through the use of a special poison that could not be identified by the technology at the time before shooting the victim to pin the blame on our hapless student.

It was a tale as old as time for those that have played the Ace Attorney series. What I liked, however, was the fact that this time round, there were multiple witnesses in the stand and how they would play off each other. Their reactions to what someone else said were great ways to enliven up the gameplay and helped move the story along when I seemed stuck on where to present my piece of crucial evidence to highlight an inconsistency.

By the end of the first trial, however, the game sees our protagonists on the way to the United Kingdom. Having stowed away in his friend’s trunk, Ryunosuke is accused once again of murder. This time, of his friend. And by the great Herlock Sholmes, no less! Unfortunately, due to copyright infringements, the translation team was forced to change the name of the character. Still, this adaption of one of the best literary detectives served to be a breath of fresh air. He was an enjoyable and lively companion.

I also very much liked how they inserted so many references to the actual stories that were penned by Arthur Conan Doyle: the Red-Headed League, Speckled Band, Hound of the Baskervilles, the Man with the Twisted Lip...

The reinterpretations of so many beloved characters also helped to put a spin on what I would have expected. Truth be told, I never thought I would become so protective of diver-turned-inspector-apprentice Gina Lestrade. She is a precious cinnamon roll! How dare anyone think she would actually murder anyone when it’s clear that she’s a misunderstood tsundere with a heart of gold!

After finishing the first game: The Great Ace Attorney Adventures I could not help but feel that the story was incomplete. In many ways, just like with Trails of Sky, it served as a prelude to things that would come. There were plenty of hints of what Ryunosuke, with plenty of dangling and tantalising mysteries. A few characters that were introduced, such as William Shamspeare, never got to see the limelight until the second entry: The Great Ace Attorney Resolve.

Why have such a uniquely dressed character walk by in passing without putting them into a case? It made no sense. It was as if Chekhov’s gun, placed in clear view, remained unused.

As such, when the credits rolled, I immediately dived into the sequel. The cases that I played through in the second entry seemed much more connected and provided a more cohesive overarching plot. In fact, while I thought the first game was a good addition in its own right - what with its stereoscopic images (which was very difficult to try and make 3D on a huge television), I thought Resolve was much better at tying up all the loose ends that players were left with.

That and we also got to enjoy the return of multi-day trials, with a mixture of investigation and court appearance, rather than ones that seemed concentrated on a single day (and were quite tiring to endure). I will say that the final episode being a continuation of the fourth was a little suspect, but didn’t mind it because of how much was revealed and discussed in those last few moments.

In saying that, the games are not without their flaws. As always, sometimes it takes a while to make the connection on what evidence needs to be presented to which statement. There were times in the first case of the second game where the hints provided to the the player once they had gone through the testimony, made me focus on a completely different area than I should have.

I also floundered a little because the clues relied more on memory of what Ryunosuke and Susato had been discussing when they were examining the evidence, but which was not updated in the actual information. As such, it took quite a while to figure out the SS Grouse inconsistency during the fourth case in the second game.

Then, of course, there were the the inconsistencies or unexplained plot points in the games themselves. In the first case of the first game, one of the key evidences that was used to highlight who the real murderer in the John H. Wilson case was blood on a serving of beef steak. The blood was on the left of the platter. The victim however, had a bullet hole on the right hand side of the chest. Given that he had been facing the table at the time he was shot, why would the the blood be on the left side of the serving platter?

Also, how did the reporter Menimemo even get a knife to stab Jezaille Brett in the first case of the second game? Did he already have it on his person? Also, since it had been first established that the victim had been stabbed, why go through all the rigmarole of having to also prove that the reporter had both poisoned and stabbed the victim? Talk about overkill.

And someone please explain how anyone could serve as a prosecutor in a case when they have a CLEAR CONFLICT OF INTEREST! A court of law is not a place where someone can slake their thirst for vengeance. And it was clear from the start that Kazuma Asogi should have been removed because of his misguided vendetta against Barok van Zieks.

The same could also be extended to the jurors. I don’t think anyone who knows the accused or the victim personally is allowed to serve as a jury member because of implicit bias. Then again, this is a game and I should probably just enjoy the game for what it is.

Despite these little quibbles with the narrative and the fact that there seem to be a very limited number of prosecutors and defence attorneys in Britain and Japan (along with jurors), I had a fun time playing through both games. After all, never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would be released out in the West. Even the summation examinations and pitting the jury members against each other was something fresh and different. While the Mood Matrix and Apollo’s ability to perceive have given new ways to solve cases, there’s still little that’s been done to shake up the formula of cross-examining a witness.

The Dance of Deduction between Herlock and Ryunosuke was also a brilliant piece of change that made some of the investigations more fun. While I’ll miss the psyche-locks, perhaps it’s a good thing that The Great Ace Attorney has moved away from mysticism and spirit channelling to focus more on Herlock’s wacky hijinks.

And before I forget, I need to throw out a special mention to Iris Wilson, the ten-year-old child genius that puts us all to shame. Growing up in an Asian household, I’m sure my mother wishes I could have got a doctorate in medicine by that time.

On a side note, it was fun voicing a few of the characters as I played. I’m sure my family were quite confused as to why these terrible accents were petering down to the kitchen.

Do I have any regrets?

Some.

But it’s always fun giving voice to these wacky characters and bringing them all to life with a few flamboyant performances.

#video games #the great ace attorney #ace attorney #gina lestrade is a precious cinnamon roll!

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ibijau · 3 years

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Deathbed Wedding - Epilogue

During a conference in Qinghe, Nie Huaisang and Wen Chao meet again (also on AO3)

and a big thanks to everyone who read, liked, or reblogged this <3

Wen Chao had only been allowed to come to that discussion conference in the Unclean Realm so he could present proper apologies for that accident a few months ago. He had done so when Nie Mingjue had welcomed them, albeit he'd been rather reluctant and insincere, since he still couldn't see how any of that was supposed to be his fault. He wouldn't have apologised at all if his father had firmly ordered him to behave, lest he be sent to meditate on a mountain for the next ten years. Wen Ruohan had looked like he meant it. Apparently the other sects were not at all happy with Qishan Wen, just because their kids were a little useless and couldn’t handle a decent Night Hunt.

Even after being warned like that, Wen Chao had escaped as soon as he'd been able to. Mostly because it was so uncomfortable to be in the same room as Nie Mingjue, and have to bear with his furious gaze, but also because conferences were so boring. He had easily found a equally bored teenagers willing to listen to him and his tales of glorious Night Hunts. They were either too young or too unimportant to have ever been invited by him before, which annoyed him. But since his usual crowd now ignored him and preferred to pay attention to the conference itself rather than to hang out with him, those people would have to do.

After all, they were all suitably impressed when he started describing the Xuanwu of Slaughter.

“Is it true that someone died?” one boy asked in a trembling voice, the youngest of his audience.

Wen Chao grimaced at the question. The two deaths of Qishan Wen disciples had been hidden fairly well, the families paid well to never bring it up again. Sadly a boy from another sect had perished as well. The sect in question was small enough that they didn’t dare complain too loudly, but they were close to Yunmeng Jiang and apparently had complained to them. Such things couldn’t be completely silenced, and it annoyed Wen Chao that people pestered him about that.

Before he could think of something to answer, a voice rang next to them.

“Several people died, and many more were wounded. It’s dangerous to seek glory alongside Wen gongzi.”

Recognising the voice, Wen Chao gritted his teeth and turned around to greet Nie Huaisang, while the other boys with him gasped upon seeing the second master of Qinghe Nie.

It shocked Wen Chao to see him. They hadn’t met since that accident. In fact, Nie Huaisang hadn’t been there to welcome guests to the conference earlier, just as he had been notably absent from all major events from the past half year. Wen Chao had just been annoyed he would have to give a second apology later when he'd meet him, and hadn’t wondered much at that absence.

Seeing Nie Huaisang, he understood why he might not have wanted to show himself in public. Scars were always a little unusual on cultivators. Anyone with a decent cultivation level would see most wounds heal without a trace. That made it particularly impressive to look at Nie Huaisang’s marked face, the right side of which was covered by a deep scar from forehead to chin, with a black eyepatch in the middle. The clothes he wore covered his skin perfectly, but Wen Chao had seen him be grabed and crushed by the fake Xuanwu, and he could guess that there had to be worse marks yet on the rest of his body. The idea of such scars made him shiver in disgust.

Still, Wen Chao quickly recovered from the shock and smirked.

“Nie gongzi, can you really complain when it’s my Night Hunt that got the husband of your dreams?”

“I can complain and I will,” Nie Huaisang retorted, glaring at the other young man with more heat than he used to allow himself. Now that he didn't need Wen Chao's Night Hunts, he wasn't bothering being nice anymore. How ungrateful. "Wen gongzi, if anyone is stupid enough to follow you after what happened, that's their problem. At the same time, I won't have you recruiting kids for Night Hunts in my own home, not when there's no knowing how many of them will return next time."

Wen Chao shrugged, unconcerned. That reaction only sparked Nie Huaisang's anger who impulsively started rolling up his right sleeve to reveal his naked arm, marked by yet more scars starting at the elbow and above, and showed it to the boys.

"That's what happens on Night Hunts with Nie gongzi," Nie Huaisang announced coldly. "And if you think I was unlucky or clumsy, I can tell you about the extremely skilled young masters who were wounded. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji nearly lost their lives, and their talent can't be doubted. Even the three boys I had to watch die where very competent. Still they died, all because Wen gongzi didn't even know what sort of a monster he was making us hunt."

The other boys gasped in horror and admiration. In an instant they all left Wen Chao's side to crowd Nie Huaisang and ask him questions about his wounds. Having somehow not anticipated that turn of events, Nie Huaisang looked very awkward for a moment. Not so awkward that he couldn’t glare at Wen Chao in warning though, and Wen Chao, with uncharacteristic wisdom, took it as his chance to leave. The second master of Qinghe did not scare him in the least, he told himself. But to anger him was to make an enemy of his terrifying older brother as well, and Wen Chao wasn't stupid enough to want to make an enemy out of Nie Mingjue.

While Wen Chao scampered away to safety, Nie Huaisang tried to handle the group of very enthusiastic juniors hounding him. They all wanted to hear more details about that dreadful Night Hunt, and wanted to know how he had survived. Above all, they wanted to have a better look at his scars, and to see how far they extended.

Nie Huaisang tried to answer the questions to the best of his capacities, while ignoring the morbid requests to see his scars, which he was still uncomfortable about. Some days, he couldn’t bear to let even Lan Xichen look at them. Only a very great cultivator who'd have fought the strongest of enemies would have scars, or those so weak even good medicine couldn't help them. Nie Huaisang knew in which category he belonged.

Even just the questions were quickly exhausting him though. This much time had already passed, but he was still recovering from what had happened, and he tired easily. Aside from those closest to him, he had mostly kept away from people during those last few months. His brother had even granted him permission to stay away from the conference, but when he had happened to pass by and he had seen Wen Chao with these other boys, he’d had to intervene.

Even if Wen Chao hadn’t meant for this to happen, it had happened anyway, and Nie Huaisang wasn’t a forgiving person.

“Could we see the talismans Wen gongzi said you used?” one boy asked, the one who had been most insistent about Nie Huaisang’s scars. “Could you give me one to copy?”

“Those are dangerous,” Nie Huaisang snapped, feeling a headache coming. “Did you listen to what I said about how dangerous they are? Do you want to end up with a face like that as well?”

“But I’d be careful! Nie gongzi, please show us!”

Suddenly, Nie Huaisang felt very sorry for the way he’d pestered everyone in Qinghe Nie after being told he needed to improve his cultivation. If he had been even half as annoying about it, then it was a miracle that his brother hadn’t strangled him just to shut him up.

“It’s a Nie technique,” Lan Xichen calmly said behind them. “And so it would of course be impossible to teach it to strangers. In fact, to ask at all could be seen as rather rude.”

Nie Huaisang, who was feeling the early sign of a terrible headache push against his skill, smiled upon seeing his husband nearby, and felt himself relax instantly. Without being asked to, Lan Xichen came to stand next to him and wrapped one arm around his shoulders to pull him closer, then turned his attention back to the assembled boys.

“I understand these conferences might not seem very interesting to you at your age, but they are important nonetheless,” Lan Xichen gently scolded, never losing his smile. “You came here with your parents or your sect leaders because they judged you were mature enough to learn something from it. You should repay that trust by staying with them and being attentive to what is happening, instead of escaping and looking for easy amusement.”

Even though none of them knew him, the boys all looked as stricken as if they had disappointed their own elder brother. They mumbled some apologies to Lan Xichen, thanked Nie Huaisang for chatting with them, and returned to the hall where the conference was happening.

As soon as they were alone, Nie Huaisang sighed heavily and leaned a little harder against his husband’s side.

“Thanks for rescuing me, Xichen.”

“You looked like you needed it,” Lan Xichen remarked, pulling him a little closer. “I thought you were just taking some papers to Meng Yao, what happened?”

“Wen Chao,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He sighed again. Then, struck by an idea, he pouted as pathetically as he could. “I’m really so tired now though. Impossibly tired, and I have an awful headache. Husband, you should carry me home, I don’t think I can take another step even if I tried.”

Lan Xichen laughed, and gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Can’t you now? How tragic. I really shall have to carry you then.”

Before Nie Huaisang could tease and whine some more, two strong arms lifted him up and he found himself carried against his husband’s chest. A blush crept fast on his face, and he gasped in surprise.

“Xichen, I was just joking!” he complained weakly, grasping at his husband's collar. “You can’t do that, someone will see.”

“Then let them see," Lan Xichen retorted, starting to walk toward their house. “I don’t mind at all.”

“I do. Save me some face, put me down. Isn’t Wei-xiong here today? If he sees us, he’ll never let me live it down. You know how awful he is when he starts teasing. And you’ve been helping da-ge all day, aren’t you tired? Put me down, Xichen-ge, I’m not so bad after all, I can walk.”

Instead of giving in to his demand, Lan Xichen held him tighter and dropped a quick kiss on his forehead.

“Wei Wuxian has no right to mock anyone,” he said. “Not with the way he makes Wangji spoil him. I swear, if Wei Wuxian looked at the moon a little too long, Wangji would fly up and bring it down for him as an engagement gift. Compared to that, I’m very reasonable, A-Sang.”

Hearing this, Nie Huaisang couldn’t help laughing weakly in spite of the pain starting to throb against his skull. His friends had come twice to the Unclean Realm in the past few months, mostly to escape the very intense negotiations between Qingheng-Jun and Yu Ziyuan regarding the matter of their engagement. It was true that Wei Wuxian was quite shameless, while Lan Wangji was completely whipped. They were very funny to watch, really. Nie Huaisang had always found their clumsy little romance quite entertaining when neither of them realised what was happening, but now they were even funnier.

“Still, you must be tired,” Nie Huaisang insisted, lazily nuzzling against his husband’s chest and closing his eye in hopes it would help his headache. “Is it really fine for you to be carrying me like this? Poor Xichen-ge, forced to do so much for his husband, how exhausting it must be! And all for a spoiled brat...”

“I really don’t mind,” Lan Xichen happily replied. “I have the best husband in the world, how could I resist spoiling him a little when he makes me so happy?”

Nie Huaisang made an embarrassed noise and hid his face into his hand. He was glad everyone was too busy with the conference to hear this, or he would have been mortified.

At the same time, it certainly was pleasant to hear Lan Xichen still insist that he was happy with him. Those last few months hadn’t been easy after all, not with how slow Nie Huaisang’s recovery had felt sometimes. The physicians who were following his progress were still not sure he would fully recover from some of the damage he had suffered, and his looks weren’t quite as good as they used to be, which was a pity. His pretty face had always been his bed weapon.

Still, Lan Xichen said often he wouldn’t have anyone else, and Nie Huaisang had no reason to think he was lying.

“I’m happy too,” he mumbled. “Xichen, I’m really happy.”

Lan Xichen hummed in answer, and pressed another kiss to his forehead. In spite of his headache, Nie Huaisang sighed contentedly.

He’d had a hard time with a lot of things since that Night Hunt, but with the way things had turned out, he really couldn’t regret what he’d done. He wouldn’t say so out loud of course. Lan Xichen always looked so sad when reminded he almost lost his husband, and Nie Mingjue still wasn't done scolding him over what had happened. But Nie Huaisang knew that if he were given a second chance, he’d do everything exactly the same.

After all, he’d been rewarded well for his efforts. He’d gotten some glory for himself, while at the same time there was no way he’d ever have to go on a Night Hunt again, which suited him just fine… and of course, he had his husband now.

He didn’t even mind the few drawbacks he had to deal with, because Lan Xichen was there with him, through good days and bad ones alike.

Life really didn’t get much better than that.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #deathbed wedding au #aaaaaah it's done #I really had given up on this fic and yet #that story was living rent free in my head and now it's done

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x-reader-theater · 4 years

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My Days Are Numbered, but so Are Yours {5}

Relationship: Geralt of Rivia X Male!Disabled!Reader

Summary: Triss meets Ciri and Geralt, not for the first time.

Warnings: Cursing, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Word Count: 1844 words

A/N: Hello everyone! How are you today? Are you ready for another chapter? I sure am! Once again I am going to thank my lovely beta writer @mystic-writes for all their help. We have some new and exciting things planned so stay tuned... Please like, comment, and please, please reblog. I’m on my knees here man. Please reblog. Please. Now, without further ado, My Days Are Numbered, but so Are Yours chapter 5.

Take a Chance for the Nights are Short (Book 1) [1]

Hold me Tight for the Days are Long (Book 2) [2]

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Chapter 5: Every Situation gets Worse when Wolves are Involved

You're outside the next morning, picking the dead leaves and some of the bloomed flowers from your plants outside your cottage. The Fool's Parsley that stands the tallest on the right side of the door are shedding a few of their old leaves. You gather them to bake over a fire and toss into a salad. You pick a few of the blooming flowers on your honeysuckle plant that are in the same bed as your Fool's Parsley, planning to make them into a sickeningly sweet syrup. You can't use it for as many things as you can honey, but it does soothe the throat and stomach of all those it touches, provided it touches the spot needing to be soothed. On the left side, small bushes with Arenaria flowers sit squat, the white blooms reflecting the sunlight back. Those are good for upset stomachs, especially if one's feeling nauseous. You don't remember how many times you had to give a concoction of Arenaria flowers and Honeysuckle syrup to Jaskier. Joining the Arenaria on the left side are your bushes of Wolfsbane. You pick a few of the flowers, the ones that aren't as fresh anymore. You use them for your topical medicine, the one your mother taught you how to make. With Geralt using the last of your supply, you have to make more in case something happens.

Looking out you see a few Celandine bushes, the bright yellow against the dark green of the bush. There are a few Moleyarrow flowers here and there. You didn't like to pick them too much. They were much too pretty for that. Some dandelions and blowballs are also scattered about, here and there. You liked to pick them on sunny days, and turn the stalks into a dish. You would roast the stalks with salt and pepper, and some Sewent Mushrooms that Triss would always bring for you.

There is something nice to say about Triss. She knows how to give a gift. Her food related gifts were the only ones you'd take from her anyway.

You're collecting a few honeysuckle from your bushes when you hear the grass crunch beneath someone's feet. You desperately needed rain to grace your small clearing. Your plants have been feeling it too, their leaves turning brown and flaking off. Maybe you'd talk to Triss' about it.

Speaking of, as you stand and turn, you see Triss standing there, in her blue robe, the hood pulled up around her head. She reaches up and drops it, revealing a head of curly, dark brown hair.

"Triss," you say simply, holding onto the box you place your honeysuckle in.

"[Y/N]. You're looking less grumpy than usual," she says with a wry smile. You almost smile back.

You gesture toward the house with your head. "Yes well, that's because I have guests."

"Guests?" Triss asks, genuinely confused. "What guests?"

"[Y/N]! [Y/N]!" You hear from inside the house. "You need to see what-"

The door slams open and Ciri comes barging out, stopping herself as she sees Triss standing there, staring at her.

"Triss?"

"Ciri!"

Triss and Ciri run up to each other, embracing each other in a large hug.

Triss pulls back and places her hands on the side of Ciri's face. She smiles. "You've grown."

Ciri rolls her eyes. "No I haven't. You don't grow much after the age of… well like 15." Ciri shrugs. "I'm still the same old Ciri you knew five years ago."

Triss frowns and furrows her brows. "Except with a few new scars…"

Ciri reaches up and touches right underneath her left eye, where a jagged, red scar mars her face. She smiles, presumably thinking, before shaking her head and furrowing her brows to mirror Triss'. "What are you doing here?"

Triss' face softens and she looks over at you, gesturing. "Someone has to keep the old man alive."

You grunt and roll your shoulders. Your grip on your baskets' handle is so tight the wicker is groaning underneath your fist. "I can take care of myself."

Triss nods. "I'm sure you can, but would you be happy without anyone to talk to?"

"I'd be happier if you never came back…" you mutter to yourself.

Triss leans over to Ciri and whispers, "He's just being grumpy. He loves me."

You roll your eyes but don't refute it. Silence luls over your small group as you take in each other's company, all thinking about something different. You can only begin to speculate about what, at least for the other two. Your mind on the other hand is racing, trying to think if Triss ever mentioned Ciri. You can't recall a time when she did.

You move to leave them alone, give them their privacy, set your basket down and sit somewhere. Your knees are starting to hurt. But the door opens and Geralt steps out before you can leave. Then Triss and Geralt make eye contact, whatever colour that was left in his face quickly disappears.

"Triss?" Geralt asks, shocked.

"Geralt." Triss almost sounds relieved. "It's good to see you again."

Geralt nods and grunts in agreement. Or maybe it was dismissal. You've lost your ability to tell.

You feel the hairs on your neck stand on end, a cold chill runs up your spine, and you freeze. The temperature of the air around you drops and you watch as, from the forest line, the green grass turns blue from a spreading frost. Geralt, Ciri, and Triss all look toward the forest, and you follow their sighline.

Walking out of it is a stone hound. Its eyes are blue, bluer than the sky on a cloudless day, and frost rolls off its hide like a waterfall mists when it hits stone and is cast into the air. Its teeth are bared. Its shoulders are hunched forward. You can’t see its teeth from here, but you can only imagine they’re sharper than icicles in winter.

You look towards the others, whose eyes are wide with shock. "This can't be possible…" Ciri says quietly, almost as if to herself.

"No, no, no!" Geralt exclaims, looking over at the two women in shock.

"How is this happening?" Triss mutters, her fists clenched. They're starting to turn a bit red, as if she's preparing to throw a fireball at any minute.

You look around at all of them, panicked. "What? What's wrong!" You ask, worried.

Geralt turns to you. "The Wild Hunt."

"The what?" You ask, confused. You know you've read about them before, but beyond knowing they exist, you've got nothing. You're drawing a blank.

Ciri turns toward the cottage and says, "I'll explain later!”

Three more wolves step out of the woods.

Triss waves one of her hands above her head, muttering something to herself, and your basket of flowers is replaced with a copy of your silver sword. You know it's a copy because the weight is slightly too high on the blade. Even after all these years of not using it, you still know the weight of it in your hand like you held it yesterday. Many things are lost to time, but this is not one of them.

Geralt and Ciri also now have copies of their swords in their hands. You watch as they balance the weight in their palms before grabbing onto them at the same time and readying their stances.

You do the same as the wolves come bounding up, one to each of you. The wolf in front of you leaps into the air, its maw wide, saliva dripping from its' fangs, the droplets freezing before they even hit the ground. You're surprised by the strength of the creature as it bounds into you, knocking you off your feet. Its teeth latch onto your sword, but you manage to pull it free as you roll back and onto the balls of your feet, standing up in a ready position.

The wolf circles you, snapping its jaw, sizing you up. Your eyes narrow, it backs up, and jumps into the air, lunging at you, maw wide, begging for a taste of your flesh. You swing your sword as it flies toward you. You strike it in the side, and while the hit didn't seem like it did much damage, the wolf flies off into the dirt.

You rush up to it and hack away for as long as you can, but the wolf just gets back up.

You jump up and away as it lashes out with its claws, missing you by an inch. It rolls onto its feet and starts moving toward you. You back up with each step it takes, but sooner or later it's going to jump at you, and you'll either hit it, or it will hit you.

Luckily, you don't have to worry about that. Geralt runs up and hits it with his Igni sign, and the wolf is set ablaze. You thrust out with your sword just as Geralt does, and the wolf slumps over, dead.

You give him a nod of thanks, and he nods back. You still know how to fight, but it's different with only one arm. You'll take all the help you can get.

You look over and see Triss helping Ciri with her wolf as well. You look back to Geralt, who's glancing nervously at the forest, waiting for something else to happen. He doesn't have to wait long, as two more ice-wolves come darting out of the trees. You ready your stance next to Geralt, your shoulders barely brushing, as one of the wolves bounds up to you. Geralt swings up with his sword in a wide arch, hitting the underside of the wolf's jaw. You strike out as well, but your sword just glances off its' stone hide.

The wolf rolls onto its feet and starts circling the two of you. You place your back against Geralt's. The wolf growls, frozen spittle shooting into the soft grass. The wolf disappears behind you, and you feel Geralt push back against you. You take a step forward and turn around, facing the icy wolf.

Geralt lunges out, striking the wolf as you lash out and hit the beast as well. You lift your sword up as Geralt does, and you both strike down. Your swords cut through the rock, into the neck of the beast. Your swords cut clean through, and the wolf falls to the ground, and the head rolls a foot away from it.

You look over and see Triss and Ciri battling their wolf, which perishes quickly.

Ciri stands up straight next to Triss' and looks over at you and Geralt. You notice her arm's bleeding. Triss turns to her, starting to help heal her wound, and all your swords disappear. You grab Geralt's arm before he can run off, and he looks at you.

You squeeze his arm, in comfort, and in reminiscence.

Geralt walks over to Ciri, and you watch him help his daughter.

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aye-write · 3 years

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Summary: Research student Isla Reid has been fascinated with the legend of the Kildonian Chessmen - a trio of mythical Pokemon rumoured to have lived centuries ago on the remote region of Kildo - for as long as she can remember. So, when a museum exhibit on the Chessmen is set to open in Kildo’s Hydrogate City, coinciding with her independent research project, she packs herself and her trusty partner Furret onto the long ferry journey bound for this new region.

However, when she arrives in Kildo, thoughts of her research, new friends, and an entire Pokedex’s worth of new Pokemon, are quickly dashed. Kildo is a troubled place, beset by natural disasters and fierce rivalries among its people. Isla suddenly finds herself at the centre of a centuries-old plot to invoke the wrath of the Chessmen, and is set on a race against time to stop them, before it spells destruction for the entire region.

Other Links: Read it on Ao3!

Tags: OC Pokemon journey, OC region, Fakemon region, bisexual main character, found family, ace main character.

If you are not interested in these posts, especially as I know Pokemon journeyfic is fairly niche, please blacklist the tag #Checkmate. Most of the story will be put under a Readmore anyway!

Author’s Note: If you’re interested in more information, exclusive updates, character art, and teasers for this fic, please consider following its sister tumblr @kildo-pokedex!

This was another chonker chapter at 4.5k that I didn’t anticipate being this long at all! The joys of plantsing, eh? I had hoped to reveal the starters this chapter, but that’s being bumped to next update. In the meantime, please enjoy the reveal of Brootser, and the partial reveals of Weldeon, Ampster and Coastrot!

*****

Chapter Three

Despite everything, night rolled over the Whispering Pine Croft.

After hours battling insomnia, Isla stole downstairs not long after the clock in the hallway chimed midnight. Goosepimples erupted on her skin, the air chilling her to the core. Clicking on the floor lamp, she cast her gaze around the living room. A rickety bookshelf took up most of one wall, covered in dust and trinkets. It didn’t take her long to strike gold.

The Etymological Dictionary of Old Kildonian, 1981 Edition.

Sitting at the old coffee table, she spread out her books and copies of the Old Kildonian script until there wasn’t an inch of space left. Then she opened the dictionary and started to read. She read, moving between dictionary and text, until her eyes strained in the dim light of the lamp, and the words on the page turned into incomprehensible squiggles. Just keep going, she told herself, as she marked off another decoded word. Just keep going. Just keep going. Just keep—

“Isla?”

Isla slammed the book shut. The noise seemed to echo forever in the quiet of the living room. The intruder snapped on the main light and Isla blinked foolishly as everything illuminated around her. It was Blair at the door, swaddled in an enormous red dressing gown and a pinched look on his face.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, pulling his dressing gown tighter. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

“I’m… I’m not doing anything,” Isla said, trying to collect the papers together, position her body over them, anything to hide them from sight.

“Really? You look like a student trying to panic revise a whole subject the night before an exam,” he chuckled, plopping himself in the seat opposite. “Come on. What’s up?”

Isla sighed. What was the point in lying? “I’m just trying to make some sense of these texts.”

Blair glanced at the clock above the fireplace. “At half two in the morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep. This presentation is doing my head in.” When Blair frowned, she added, “My supervisor asked me to update them with all the “progress” I’ve mad so far. Of course, I haven’t made any yet.”

“So, you’re trying to decode all these old books with…. an out-of-date Kildonian dictionary?”

“I found it in the bookcase. I thought it might help.”

“I’m pretty sure that book is older than me. Please don’t tell me you’re taking it word-by-word.”

“More or less.”

“You’ll be there months trying to sort all that lot.”

“I don’t have any other choice,” Isla’s voice cracked. “Everyone is hounding me. I can’t let this come undone. They’ll pull approval of my project and fail me if I don’t keep jumping through all their hoops.”

“Why is the legend of the Chessmen so important to you?”

Isla hesitated. It was an innocent enough question, but the thought of answering it felt like ripping her chest open and exposing the beating heart underneath. “Well...” she started, cringing at how stupid it all sounded in her head. “When I was little, I was kinda lonely. I didn’t have siblings. Or friends, really,”

Blair made a sympathetic noise.

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t that bothered by it,” Isla lied. “But because I didn’t have many friends, I naturally leant towards books instead. And I loved fiction, like adventure stories and that, but I felt so much more connected to things that were actually real.”

Blair nodded. “Understandable.”

“Anyway, one Christmas, I got this book. I think it was called Myths and Legends of the Pokemon World and it had all the origin stories of all the legendary Pokemon from like… every region in the world. God, I ate up every single story - how Arceus created the world, the theory that all Pokemon came from Mew in some way, how Groudon and Kyogre created the land and sea. I was absolutely hooked. Then, right at the end, there were a couple of small articles devoted to a place called Kildo.”

“Typical,” Blair muttered. “Always playing second fiddle to the big guns.”

“The book explained a little bit about the legend of the Chessmen. I was just… amazed at how these Pokemon brought humans these gifts of technology and arts and whatnot and how advanced the region was for its time. And then when I read what happened next, well… I just wanted to know why. Why did the Chessmen take away what they gave the humans? What happened to them after they became dormant? I was obsessed. When I was younger, I had this stupid dream that I would like… Oh, it sounds so cheesy now, but… like solve the mystery of what happened all those years ago.”

“It’s not cheesy, Isla. Dreams are never cheesy.”

Isla bit the inside of her cheek. “I know that. It’s just… well, this legend has been everything to me for years. I’m not bigheaded enough now to think someone like me could ever solve it. But I’d love to find something. Even if it’s just standing in the same place these Pokemon stood once, all those years ago. But now it feels like it’s slipping away from me. I won’t be able to do anything unless I get these texts translated.”

“They’re well-known texts, right? Haven’t they already been translated?”

“The only translations that exist are locked behind online paywalls,” Isla sighed. “Not exactly within my budget. The originals were family owned. I suppose you can’t blame them for wanting them kept safe.”

“Could the university not pay for you to access them?”

“Not my department. They already think the project isn’t worth the time. They’re usually into social changes, modern day life, that sort of thing. Mythology doesn’t get a look in. Even though I changed my project a bit – focusing more on how the mythology influences modern life, with the Chessmen more of like a case study – the department still don’t want much to do with it.”

“Well, that’s their loss. Your project sounds fascinating just from what I’ve seen of it.”

“This little bit you’ve seen might end up being all it ever amounts to. With Nana Morag in the hospital, my options for translations are limited, and these old texts are all I have to help me piece together where the Chessmen might be.”

Silence unfurled around them. Isla stared down at her lap, her legs shaking and her mouth dry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever talked so much about herself and she found that she couldn’t quite bring herself to look Blair in the eye.

“I think I might know someone.”

Isla pricked her head up. “Really?” she said, hope throbbing in her chest.

“I have a friend who lives in Inverbrook. It’s not a huge city, but they do have a subsect of Tideburgh University there. He’s doing a Masters in Language and mentioned being involved with an elective on Old Kildonian. I can contact him for you. He might be able to help.”

Something surged through Isla like she’d just taken a shot of adrenaline. “Oh, Blair, thank you! That’s amazing!”

“No guarantees, of course!” he said, spreading his hands hastily. “He might not know enough of it to be a proper help. But he may be able to put you in touch with some other folks who can help, if that makes sense.”

“It does. A lot of sense. Thank you again.” Isla paused. “Where is Inverbrook?”

“Pretty much directly south of here. About forty odd miles or so. Following routes 29 through 26 pretty much leads you right there. Public transport is crap, though, so you’re better walking most of it. Shouldn’t take much more than a couple of days if you’re…”

He paused. Isla knew what he wanted to say. If you’re fit. Women like her weren’t supposed to be fit. And even though the thought of days of walking filled her with equal parts apprehension and dread, she forced a look of determination onto her face.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I can handle it.”

Isla shared the news that she would be leaving in the morning as they sat down at the kitchen table. Kenneth and Skye stayed quiet, barely reacting to the news, but Rhona’s face crumpled.

“Oh, chick, are you sure?”

“I think it’s probably for the best,” Isla said. “I don’t want to be a burden, especially with you guys having your hands full with the croft and Nana Morag being ill. Having a guest is too much on top of everything. I really do appreciate everything you’ve all done, but I think it’s best that I head towards Inverbrook and start my research properly.”

A strange expression passed over Rhona’s face, one that Isla couldn’t make sense of. For several terrifying moments, she thought she’d offended her.

“You wouldn’t be a burden on us, Isla,” Rhona eventually said, her eyes brimming. “We’d happily have you here for as long as you want. It’s been lovely having you.”

Isla felt something in her heart buckle.

“We do understand that your studies have to come first. But… you said you wanted to go to Inverbrook?”

“Yes. Blair is going to put me in touch with a friend of his there that might be able to help me with some translations.”

“It might not be as easy as you think, chick. I’ve just been watching the local news. There was flooding down south. The river that goes through Route 27, which connects Port Glen to Inverbrook, burst its banks. The whole route is submerged. No-one can go through. It’s completely impassable.”

You wouldn’t have said the entire of Port Glen had only just recently been battered by a storm, Isla thought, as she set off down towards the harbour after a filling breakfast. The morning sky pinkened gently, like a mother’s embrace, and golden threads of sun drifted through soft, watercolour clouds. A cool wind kept the worst of the heat at bay as she walked. All in all, it was a fairly pleasant experience. Well, as pleasant an experience as walking would ever be.

It was Rhona that had suggested trying the ferry. She couldn’t be sure what passenger routes they ran from Port Glen, or if they only did international and goods shipments, but it was a better option than waiting the potential weeks for the Inverbrook route to be cleared or taking the (extremely) long way around the whole region.

Breathing heavily and sweating despite the brisk ocean breeze, Isla stopped to catch her breath as she arrived at the harbour. She cast her gaze around hopefully. It was quiet. Too quiet. Not a good sign in the least. Aside from the occasional sailor pacing the docks, and the sharp, cutting cry of seabirds, the place was still and silent.

The thought of asking someone to help sent panic crashing through her like waves in a storm, but there was no other choice. The best option rested with a nearby sailor, busily looping ropes and picking apart complicated knots. A Pokemon stood at his side. Squat, muscular, with short brown fur, flecked with white, and cut into a stout triangle pattern, it was another one that Isla didn’t recognise. Every now and again, the sailor tossed it a particularly difficult-looking knot of rope, which the Pokemon expertly shredded with sharp, curved claws.

“Brootser, the Pelting Pokemon. The evolved form of Brogue. With incredibly sharp claws and powerful jaws, Brootser are highly aggressive and territorial. Even against much stronger foes, it won’t back down easily,” her Pokedex chirruped.

Isla’s hand tightened around Soba’s Pokeball as she read more details. A Fighting type. A second evolution. Being a Furret, Soba wouldn’t stand much chance in a fair fight, much less an unfair one. While she did generally feel more comfortable approaching a fellow Pokemon owner, she probably could have stood to pick one with a less terrifying partner.

All the same, she approached the sailor, keeping herself primed like a coiled spring. “Excuse me? I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

The sailor had a strong, lined face, but he didn’t seem anywhere near as intimidating when he relaxed into a smile. “Sure,” he boomed. “What can I do for you?”

“Are there going to be any sailings from this port in the next few days? Anywhere that lands near Inverbrook?”

The Brootser, distracted from its work with the knots, pressed its wet nose against Isla’s hand. Isla let out an involuntary squeak.

“Brootser, stop that!” the sailor said firmly. “Sorry, miss. He’s obsessed with leather. Have you got leather in your handbag or anything? Your shoes? I swear, he can sniff it out within a mile. I have to keep him distracted at work otherwise he’d never leave people alone. Here, Brootser, go and do this for me.”

The sailor tossed a section of rope a few feet down the docks. The Brootser growled, a deep throaty rumble, before dropping to all fours and pursuing. Within moments, the rope was ripped to little more than fibres.

Isla searched for something to say. She eventually settled on, “He’s cute.”

“He’s a menace is what he is,” the sailor said, wiping his brow. “Anyway, you were asking about the ferries? Unfortunately, the passenger ferry was badly damaged in that storm two nights ago and won’t be running any routes for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Isla asked nervously.

“We’re waiting for some metal workers to come down from Hydrogate. They’re delayed because their Weldeon team were exhausted after a big job in the ironworks. Currently we’re looking at about a week.”

“A week?”

“I’m afraid so. If you go to reception and leave your details, they’ll be able to contact you as soon as we know when the sailings will be going ahead.”

“Aren’t there any other options?”

The sailor considered. “Not here. But if you’re set on sailing and you could get to Dewbrae Town, I think they’re still running sailings.”

“Where’s Dewbrae Town? Is it close?”

“It’s up past Aberdrip City, which is an hour’s drive north of here. Then you have to pass through Aberdrip Forest and that brings you out just at Dewbrae. Maybe a couple of days walking if you keep a steady pace,” he paused, and Isla felt his eyes rake her body. “Maybe a couple more. But, if you’re in a hurry, it’s better than waiting around here. Everything’s very up in the air at the moment.”

Isla thanked the sailor, trying to ignore the heavy feeling that came over her. Why was this so difficult? She’d encountered disaster at every turn so far and, in her darkest moments, she couldn’t deny wondering if it was even worth it to keep going. Nana Morag ill, no passage to Inverbrook through Route 27, no ferry from the Port Glen docks, now she had to go all the way to Dewbrae – wherever that was – on nothing more than a possibility?

But what could she do? What other options did she have?

Rhona would know what to do, Isla decided. She had a way of sorting things out, an uncanny level-headedness her own mother didn’t have. That’s what she’d do. She’d head back to the croft and take stock of the situation. She started walking, thoughts whirling through her head like the flapping of birds’ wings. Maybe there was another way to Inverbrook. They knew the region better than she ever would. Maybe they could—

“WIIIIING!”

Isla gasped and swore as her foot trod on something soft. With a gust of cold air, the offending thing burst upwards and pain erupted at the top of her head. Sharp, pointed talons dug into her scalp and she yelped in pain.

“Gull! Gull!” her assailant screeched; each squawk accompanied by a swift peck to the head.

Isla’s hands closed around her attacker’s soft wriggling body. With all her might, she tore it from her head and tossed it as far as she could manage. But the Pokemon swooped back into the air, seemingly unharmed, fixing Isla with a glare that sent a tremble down her spine.

“Gull! Wingull!” it shrieked.

Recognition dropped into Isla’s belly like a stone. It was a Kildonian Wingull. The same Kildonian Wingull that had attacked Rhona the day Isla got off the ferry. At least, it certainly looked like the same one – she could hardly call herself an expert on them – but it was roughly the same size and had the same high-pitched squawk. And didn’t the Pokedex say that Kildonian Wingull only attacked people who had food? Isla didn’t have a single crumb on her. So what other motive could it possibly have for attacking her?

Isla reached for the Pokeball at her waist, panicked fingers scrabbling for the catch. But the Wingull screeched again, diving into a tackle. The impact came low in her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs and leaving her doubled over. The second blow sent her off-balance and stumbling, eventually crashing to the ground where the pain came in sharp spikes. With a fury of feathers, the Pokemon ripped Isla’s bag away from her.

“Hey!” She wheezed. “There’s nothing in there for you!”

Her protests were rewarded with a face full of frigid water.

By the time Isla had sluiced the water from her face, the Wingull had unhooked the bag’s clasp and was digging around in her things. Hairbrush and deodorant were both ignored, the coin purse in the shape of a Quagsire got an inquisitive gnaw but ultimately left in favour of a pen, which lasted a whole thirty seconds until it splintered and was promptly spat back out.

Every inhale felt like she was being stabbed underneath the ribs, but she still forced herself to move. “Leave my things alone! There’s no food in there!”

Wingull had wriggled itself right into the bottom of the bag and had pulled out an old emergency kit that Isla had nearly forgotten about. Most of the items had already been used or dumped over the years she’d had it, leaving only a couple of travel sized Potions, a Repel Kit, and a Poke Doll, wrapped up in a worn-out bag. The Wingull squawked indignantly and decapitated the doll in one fell swoop. Then it turned back on the travel bag, scraping around and tearing at it with its beak.

Something dropped out. Isla’s heart plummeted to somewhere near her feet.

It was a Pokeball. An old Pokeball scratched and grimy with age. A Pokeball that Isla had all but forgotten about ever since she made the decision to train just Soba all those years ago. A Pokeball that was now right in the Kildonian Wingull’s line of sight.

She saw it happening before it actually did. The hungry Wingull viewed the Pokeball as nothing more than a shiny, tasty snack. It darted forward, opened its beak wide, and engulfed the old capsule. Isla prayed that the ten year old ball would turn out to be too old to work anymore, and the worst thing to happen would be the Wingull hacking it back up again. But the Pokeball made a shrill shiiing noise as it made contact with Wingull’s beak, and the Pokemon disappeared in a flash of blue light.

The Pokeball shook. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it was still.

And Isla had caught a Kildonian Wingull.

Isla told the story of her accidental Wingull capture to an appreciative audience when she got back from the docks. And then again over sandwiches at lunchtime. While Soba curled up in the corner next to the radiator, oblivious to this new teammate, Isla released Wingull for the nerve-wracking job of introductions and feeding time. Rhona’s eyebrows rose so high that they practically disappeared into her hairline, but she didn’t protest.

“I can’t believe it’s the same one,” Rhona said, eyeing her half-eaten sandwich she was planning on saving for later. “Most try their luck once and then move on.”

“I think it’s young,” Blair said, lifting its wing to get a better look. “Perhaps separated from its mum too early. Maybe it doesn’t know any better.”

“I didn’t mean to catch it,” Isla sighed. “I’d forgotten all about that old Pokeball. We were always told to carry an extra one or two, even if we never intended to catch Pokemon, like for emergencies and that.”

“It must have been starving if it thought a Pokeball was food. Or maybe just exceptionally stupid.”

“Jury’s out on that one,” Isla said, as the Wingull pecked at a Tauros shaped pepper shaker.

“Kildonian Wingull are incredibly food oriented,” Blair lifted his plate to avoid the Pokemon’s frantically flapping wings. “Most of the bird Pokemon around here are.”

“Why is that?”

“Competition. Because there’s so many, they all compete for the same natural resources. That’s part of why people think Wingull adapted for Kildo the way they did. They couldn’t compete for most of the natural food, so they evolved to take food from humans instead. Problem is, they end up thinking all food is fair game. Hey, watch it! No! That’s mine!”

Isla suppressed a chuckle as Wingull lunged for the crusts on Blair’s sandwiches. In the kerfuffle of squawking and feathers, Isla looked over at Skye, who hadn’t said a word through the entire of lunch. Her face was screwed up.

“Skye? Are you alright?” Isla asked.

Skye made an odd strangling noise, pushed herself back from the chair, and ran for the stairs, each one thudding under her feet. A moment later, a door slammed.

“Did I say something wrong?” Isla said, horrified.

“No, not at all,” Rhona said, rescuing a glass of juice that had been upended when Skye left the table. “She’s just a bit upset. We were supposed to be going up to meet Professor Spruce tomorrow to get her trainer’s license and first Pokemon. But because Nana Morag is in hospital, I have to be here in case something comes up on short notice, and I just can’t spare the time to take Skye up to Aberdrip City. She’ll only be delayed for a few days, but the poor lass was so looking forward to it. Especially when she’s had to wait so much longer than everyone else.”

“Why’s that?”

It was only after she asked the question that she considered it might have been rude. Or none of her business. Too late to save herself now, though. Rhona’s face tightened, her mouth puckering like she was sucking on a sour lemon.

“Sorry,” Isla looked down at the table. “I shouldn’t be nosy.”

The kitchen fell quiet. Rhona let out a deep, juddering exhale and sat back down, folding her hands into her lap, the kitchen suddenly feeling about ten degrees colder. Isla took a sip of water, her mouth and throat turning to chalk.

“Skye had childhood cancer.” The words didn’t even get a chance to settle before they were tumbling out again, like Rhona was trying to get them all out at once. Like they couldn’t hurt her as much that way. “She spent most of her childhood in hospital with leukaemia.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Once again Isla found herself cursing both her mother and herself for not bothering to find any of this information out beforehand.

Rhona shook her head. “It’s alright, chick. We don’t talk about it much. Besides, she’s been in remission for a year now. But she’s missed out on so much school and she gets tired so easily.”

There was nothing Isla could say that would be enough. She had to settle for, “I’m sorry to hear that…” and hope Rhona could somehow understand just how much she meant it.

“There was a time when she was being treated that she became very low and very depressed. It was frightening. I’ve never been so worried in all my life. We were scared she was just… giving up. Then, one day, they had some Pokemon trainers visit the hospital. A lot of children there would never be able to go out training. Some wouldn’t even… you know, live to see their next birthday.”

Rhona’s voice wavered. Blair put his hand over hers and squeezed. “Easy, Mum. Don’t go upsetting yourself now.”

“One of the trainers was assigned to Skye,” Rhona continued. “But she was so quiet and so withdrawn that we didn’t think the trainer could get through to her. The trainer had this Pokemon with her – Ampster, I think it was – and it was like a light turned on behind Skye’s eyes when she saw it. I saw glimpses of my daughter again. This trainer stayed with her for hours. Just talking. She’s wanted to be a Pokemon trainer ever since. And I hate that so many things keep getting in her way.”

Rhona sunk her head into her hands. Her shoulders quivered.

Isla felt terrible. No wonder Skye had been quiet during the whole of lunch. How stupid had she been? Skye was being kept from her dream of being a Pokemon trainer and she’d waltzed into their kitchen showing off a Pokemon she hadn’t even meant to catch? It made Isla’s toes curl just thinking about it.

“Could Skye not make the journey on her own?” she asked.

“No,” Rhona lifted her head again, looking pale even at the thought. “She’s not fit enough. We were going to rent a car and drive her, but…”

“Could I take her?”

The offer slipped past Isla’s lips before she knew what she was doing. Rhona looked at her in mild shock, her mouth slowly gaping open.

“I mean, I’ll be passing through Aberdrip anyway!” Isla continued. “One of the sailors said I could get the ferry from Dewbrae Town which is just past Aberdrip, right?. I could take her along with me.”

“Gosh, that’s very kind of you, chick. And I’m sure Skye would love it,” Rhona said, nervously glancing at the stairs. “But I’m not comfortable with her making the trip back on her own. Or even just the amount of walking she’d have to do.”

“I could go with them,” Blair said.

Rhona looked at her son like she’d only just remembered he existed. “What’s that, honey?”

“I could go with them,” he repeated. “We could put Skye on Coastrot. That’s my partner Pokemon,” he added for Isla’s benefit. “He’s strong enough to carry her and we can keep her nicely bundled up. Then once Isla heads off to Dewbrae, I can take Skye back.”

“I don’t know,” Rhona said. “We need you here too.”

“Mum, it’s a day. Maybe two, tops, if we let Skye rest overnight. You and Dad can manage that long, right? You could ask a couple of the lads from the market to pitch in if you really need to. I’m sure they’d work for a hot pie and some cash in hand. And you don’t need to worry about us. We won’t do anything silly. We’ll just get Skye her Pokemon, check in for the night, see Isla off to Dewbrae the next morning and head back ourselves. Easy-peasy!”

Rhona still didn’t look convinced. “It’s such a long way, though. She’s not been away overnight in such a long time.”

“It’s a few hours of travelling, Mum. You said it yourself, Skye’s already missed out on so much. It might not feel like much for us, but for Skye, it’s her whole life. One delay after the other. And with everything the way it is right now, what if there’s just more delays? More reasons not to take her? You have to let her.”

Rhona went very quiet, her face pale.

“I’ll look after her, Mum,” Blair said. “She needs this.”

“I know you will. And I know she does,” Rhona heaved a sigh. “She’s not my little baby anymore. She’s growing up.”

“I’d like to go.”

Everyone jumped at the voice that came in from the doorway. Rhona wiped her eyes. “Oh, Skye, honey, sorry. I didn’t hear you come down. Are you okay?”

“I think I can do it,” Skye ignored her mother’s question. Her voice was louder this time, but still hesitant, like she was testing out its limits. “I want to go get my Pokemon and I’d like Blair and Coastrot to take me. And Isla,” she added, and Isla felt a smile curve onto her face. “If that’s okay with you?”

Silence widened like a chasm between mother and daughter and for one horrible moment, Isla half-expected Rhona to turn away, to start shouting, to deny her flat out. But then tears spilled out of Rhona’s eyes and her whole face softened.

“Yes, honey,” Rhona said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Yes, that’ll be okay with me.”

As they hugged, Isla felt a stray tear prick at the corner of her eye. The emotion surprised her. Yes, it was touching to see a mother and daughter hug and reconcile, but something told her it went deeper. As she looked out at the dying sky, strewn with deepening orange and slicks of black, something unsettled itself in her heart.

Tomorrow she would be leaving Port Glen. Tomorrow she would leave behind a family unit where she felt accepted. Tomorrow she would start her journey to Inverbrook.

She didn’t know which one felt scarier.

#checkmate #pokemon oc fiction #pokemon fanfiction #fakemon #fakemon fanfiction #long post #fanfiction

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

My Pearl Pt 15

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - Pt 12 - Pt 13 - Pt 14 -

Books. Every time you turned around you seemed to be hounded by them. Finally Irime had gotten the final copy detailed to how you all agreed and Fëanor had helped to perfect the descriptions of each marking him as a co-author. They were branded as your recipes with a professional’s review on each making the book all the more interesting to readers when the first few sample pages were released and his comments on how appalling it all looked compared to how it tasted hypes the dishes up even more.

Officially you had been Thorin’s partner for five months now since your verbal flub and together your cooking teams had turned the Dwarven dining experience on its ear with how the Stone had blended. Now regulars were sampling from both menus same as the newcomers who some had even been steered away from your dish they had aches to try for a more appealing Dwarven classic, and everyone seemed to love everything about the change. Your spots on the weekly shows had brought on more fan mail and amped up the competitions between your rivaling teams making the fans love it even more.

This week however, after your last week where you sluggishly made it through your shift at the Stone, a much needed vacation was scored for you. Thorin would have to work through most of your first week but then he had plans to let you rest up those days and hoped the trip you could take would help to shake your weariness off you. They all had their own slumps that’s why every few months they set up vacation times for each of the team on rotations to prevent anyone from overworking themselves. It was advertised as usual and no complaints were had.

“How did you do that?” Thorin hummed smoothing up against your back with hands easing around your hips. It had been a week at least since he’d been able to hungrily pin you down as he used to with the bustle of the new changes to the Stone and your traveling for your book to come out.

“Cook with my eyes closed?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed ghosting his lips across the side of your neck aching to carry you to bed but knowing you needed your rest. So cuddling and holding you close was what he could do as even in your sleep somehow his once comforting warmth had you burning up and sliding away to cool down. You were pushing to hard, they were all pushing you too hard, it was too much to soon and he tried to ease the burden on you only to see your body slump in moments you thought oh were alone aching for relief from something he could not verbalize or was too afraid to. “How ever did you learn that?”

Weakly you giggled and raised a hand turned your head to kiss his forehead revealing your temperature spiking again in his nearness. In his readying to pull back you said, “Culinary school. Eleven ones at least, though my gran had already taught me when I was little so it didn’t take me long.”

Playfully he asked in the smoothing if your hands over his arms in a sigh to stay, “Why would they teach you that?”

“So you can taste the food without eating it.”

“Really?”

With a nod you turned in his arms saying, “I can show you if you like.”

After a low chuckle he shook his head, “I would rather not risk a fire.”

In the smoothing of your hands up his chest he inhaled deeply locking his eyes on yours, “Please? Try it for me?” Again he exhaled in the stroke of your fingers around the name of his neck almost bringing a lustful growl from him, “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“Just this once.” With a smirk you stepped away sliding your hand across his chest in a quick walk to your room leaving him there only to return with a sleeping mask making him roll his eyes in your sliding it in over his face. And in Khuzdul you purred by his ear, “Let me touch you in the most intimate place possible,” inhaling sharply at how deeply your hint of a growl in your timid mastering of his tongue after months of practice he remained focused then smirked at your adding, “In your kitchen.”

One by one you showed him through where the ingredients were and the feel and smell of them all. Touching him just enough to let him know you were still there, easing your hands on and off of his to adjust them when needed but letting his muscle memory handle the rest.

“Now, slice the ginger.” His head turned and you folded your hand over the back of his, he would have felt ridiculous if he didn’t feel so damn connected to you and lulled into a calm state by the sound of your voice. “Your knife is here, you know how to hold it. Now bring it over, elbow to your side and feel the tension in the ginger when you press,” the knife touched the root and sliced through making him wet his lips feeling the distance between the blade and his hand, “And again.” You guided a single sweep to slide it over and slice again before the ginger was traded for peppers and tomatoes completing all the dicing when the list was through.

“Now that your sauce is simmering your chicken.” The sizzle and sound of it sliding onto the pan in your guidance make his hair stand on end in anticipation. He knew how long to cook it all and how it felt so this wasn’t so strange but the scents and sounds were as if it was his first time.

“What about the sauce?”

“Give it time.”

“But-,”

“When you taste apples let me know and you will stir it.”

“Apples?”

“Mhmm. Now the ginger for Elves is quite strong, but to Dwarves it gives it that slight honey taste, and since we have twice as many taste buds as you it’s best to learn in moderation how we season our foods.”

“Okay.” After wetting his lips he said, “I think I should flip it,”

“Not yet,” you said holding his hands in place before his head tilted slightly hearing a soft popping sound making you smirk in your releasing his hand saying, “Now,” and again his hair on his arms stood on end hearing the slide of the spatula and the smooth raise of the chicken breast he flipped over and let sit.

“Apples,” he mumbled having breathed in the taste deeply as you had showed him to breathe through this to help him pick it up quicker.

“Good,” guiding him a step over you swapped his spatula for the large spoon he used to stir the sauce he then added the last of the ingredients you had set out.

The last bit was easy, guiding him to pour the sauce on the plate with the plop of the meat on over it making him pout for a moment knowing the presentation was awful, “Appearance is nothing for your first try, just taste.” His lips parted and he hummed lowly and removed the blindfold to delve into the meal you had helped him make that honestly didn’t look half bad now that he’d tasted it, and most assuredly he would give your lessons another try. But for now you were tired and after a lingering kiss when the dishes were cleared he hummed out, “Come in, to bed, I’ll ravage you in the morning. You need your rest.”

But the ravaging wouldn’t come and there was no ask of how you felt. He knew, you felt awful and it was his fault. He had missed something and couldn’t bear to hear you say he had failed on protecting you from this weariness he had inflicted. So to bed you went sharing another kiss at an arm length apart to grant you some cool air to drift off in and that was it.

Groggily you opened your eyes in the plushy bed a couple feet from Thorin, whose usual body heat painfully proved too much for you lately and sitting up you let out a heavy breath in the tiring task of removing the covers from over you. Completely frozen to the core you sat up somehow coated in dried sweat only to have your eyes drop to your arms that flopped onto your lap. Pale and clammy they lay there with your dark green veins showing all the clearer and yet up near your wrist you gasped in seeing a telling sliver of glowing blue veins in the crease right under your palm. Somehow you managed to get to the bathroom yet your hasty closing of the door made it slam tearing Thorin from his sleep.

“Dearest?” Sitting up he looked around the room seeing your side of the bed stained with sweat and assuming you were getting sick he hopped out crossing the bed to rush to the door. At the wooden barrier he heard the click of the lock, “Jaqi, what’s wrong? Let me in.”

Panting against the door feeling your legs beginning to wobble you replied, “Thorin I need you to get my phone.”

Thorin, “If you need to go to the doctor come out I’ll take you.”

“Thorin, I need you to call Fëanor.”

The rattling of the door made your lip quiver as tears welled up in your eyes at his frantic, “Jaqi, open the door.” Trying to remain calm in his panic of trying to learn what was going on.

“Thorin, my phone…”

“I can call him later. Just-,”

His words cut off at your hand hitting the door weakly, yet with enough force to make it rattle on the frame, “Thorin! Please?!” The ready squeak of your voice rendered him speechless, “You have to get my phone and call Fëanor. Tell him I have Neriama. Please, you can’t waste time in this you have to call him.”

Softly he replied, “Ok.” Turning away he hurried to get your phone and dialed the number returning to the other side of the door, “It’s ringing.” Wetting his lips he waited to hear the answering click then said, “Fëanor you’re on speaker. Jaqi’s locked in the bathroom says she’s got-,”

Through the line he answered for you, “Neriama?”

You weakly answered, “Yes.”

Fëanor, “The girls have it too. Must have passed it on to her. We’ll come and get you and bring you out to Greenwood. Now Thorin, you need to pack a bag for her. And do not get near her. It’s treatable but not for Dwarves. She’s highly contagious and we’ll send a team out to help sanitize your house too.”

Thorin wet his lips, “Take her to greenwood. For how long? If she’s sick I want to be there.”

Feanor said as you lowered to your knees to sit down and conserve your strength. “Thorin it’s only a week, possibly two. But you can’t be near her or she could kill you. Trust me we’ll take care of her.”

He had no choice, he had to let you go and his last glimpse of you was in Amrod’s car from a distance. His eyes lingering on the glowing pale blue veins in your face and orange tear streaks from your now bright green eyes down your clammy blotchy cheeks with a mask Celegorm had brought for you. Stuck outside while his house was being scrubbed talking to Caranthir, who would be helping to finish your tasks at the Stone today calming him as he shared how common this was for Elves under their first thousand year birthday. The car pulled away and he signed again for you to call him when you got settled in earning a nod and a wave from you.

All the way to Greenwood you were flown on a waiting emergency jet packed with supplies for emergency cases like this you and your three nieces were spread out in lying still after falling asleep due to the first bout of medicines to counter the common yet debilitating disease. The house was sanitized in record time and Thorin had gone back to change then head off to work early. The full crew arrived and sunk in mood right with him in the wait until word could be had of your status.

Lunch was when he got the call, the phone nearly flew from his hand when he jerked it out of his pocket, answering the call he listened to Feanor’s sharing that you were settled into the quarantined suite with your nieces in that wing of the best hospital in Greenwood.

Thorin, “Do they know when she will be awake?”

Fëanor, “Sometime tomorrow, the medicine is really strong up front she won’t be conscious very much the next few days.”

Thorin’s eyes shut and he rubbed his hand over his forehead asking, “Is there anything I can do?”

Fëanor sighed, “You’ve done so much already.”

Thorin scoffed, “I packed a bag! Then I stood aside while our home was scrubbed and she was carried out! How is that help?”

Fëanor, “You’re healthy and safe. It doesn’t sound like much to you but you’re going to be there when she gets home in a few days.”

Thorin’s lips parted, “I thought you said it might be two weeks.”

Fëanor, “The girls will be closer to two, apparently the medicine works faster in Hobbits. Her veins have already started dimming again which normally takes two days to stop.”

Thorin felt a surge of hope wash through him, “That’s good then,” he wet his lips, “She’s not getting sick or anything? I know you said she was asleep, but before that?”

Fëanor, “Normally it just makes them sleep through the medicine, without it they get violently ill.”

“At least she won’t be too uncomfortable through it then.” He wet his lips, “I’ll let you get back to it then, um, my lunch is almost up.”

Fëanor, “She told me to tell you to go be magnificent, and not to worry too much about her she’ll call when she wakes up.”

Lowly Thorin replied, “I will, thank you.”

The phone cut off on Feanor’s side and he moved to go sit at your side again, brushing up the covers that had slid down in your slumbering wiggle. Stroking your back calmly his gaze again turned to your heart monitor and then below it to the fetal monitor showing the steady pulse flashing across the screen.

Honestly, it wasn’t the medicine, you were wide awake not half an hour ago but after hearing the positive on your blood panel you had lasted calmly until the doctor had left the room then cried yourself to a point of exhaustion you drifted off in their arms. You did mean to call and said something similar to what Fëanor had said on the flight over, yet you had worried so much about how to tell Thorin he thought it best to leave it to you when you felt better. This was amazing news but also one to jab at an open wound that would no doubt make Thorin insist on seeing you to comfort you through it and worry about not just you but your surprise bundle too.

“How is that possible?! I’m on X. It’s supposed to be the strongest in injectable birth control.”

The doctor wet his lips hearing the wandering heart rate beeping in its dips and rises in your adjusting to the news. “It is, for Elleths. Meaning, when you do see your obgyn again you should look into Hobbit based hormones, after giving birth of course.” He let out a weak chuckle, “I’ve known Hobbitesess to just hold a friend’s baby or have a pregnant friend and it triggers those hormones to start ovulating even over the strongest medications.”

He inhaled deeply then stated, “These medications for your Neriama will not harm your baby, we’ve had hundreds of young mothers and babies pass through healthy, you said you haven’t shown any symptoms so it seems we’ve caught it early. Still if you would like we could bring in a monitor for them as well.” His brows inched up as your eyes remained fixed on his in your speechless stare, “Would you prefer a monitor?”

You managed a half nod and he flashed you a weak grin, “We will have that in here shortly, you rest and we’ll see if your progression tomorrow will allow us to get a sonogram machine in here to measure the little bud.” He turned and that day back in Orcarni flashed back to you, all that pain and terrifying confusion leading up to you having to bury your son and out the tears poured, your now green tears as you wept into the chests of Fëanor and your brothers not already curled around the girls.

You knew you could get through this but what the hell would you tell Thorin, how would you tell him, and more alarming was the whirlwind your mind spun into considering what he might say in return.

Through the screen of Thorin’s laptop he sat up in bed watching you sleep after you had dozed off on your video chat. Truly he didn’t mind and he was grateful for your loving conversation no matter how brief, in which he had told you he loved you, not his usual five times a day but twelve.

Three months now he had cherished each time he had said it since his first shout of it through the phone so you could hear it over the wind on the opposite end of the football match for Frodo stirring up awws and whistles from the crowd around him waiting in line at the concession stand. A giggle was his response before the cheers drowned out your response you happily repeated when he brought you the food you had asked for he insisted on getting alone.

He wanted you to be home so bad but nearly to full color again he watched you sleep hating the miles between you and after nearly an hour when he felt his eyes unable to stay awake his finger found the space bar to end the call so he could sleep with you, or at least dream he had. A full six days you had been gone and he had just his final shift to get through after deciding to keep busy at work without you to remain around his family who were the only thing keeping him sane between contact with you. Finishing the final button on his shirt he turned with brows furrowing at the out of place doorbell.

Instantly his heart skipped in the hope it possibly could be you coming home early, though halfway through the house he remembered you still hadn’t been discharged yet and had promised to call when you had and were on the way to flying home. Still he found the door and shoved the memory back of his being locked on the other side of his bathroom door from you that nearly had him in tears if he focused on it too long, and he opened the door.

“Delivery for a, Thorin Durin.”

Thorin accepted the tablet from the Dwarf and looked to the sending address, mumbling to himself, “I didn’t order anything…” a grin eased across his lips reading your name from the hospital in Greenwood, “Ah..”

Hastily he signed his name and thanked the delivery man who handed over the medium sized box and accepted his tablet in its place, “Have a nice day, Mr Durin.”

Thorin, “Same to you.” He said closing the door to hurry to his living room with the box.

Drawing out his key from his pocket he broke the tape on top and his brows furrowed in removing the packing holders. Until he spotted a tiny oak sapling in a pot coated with bunnies and acorns making him smirk as he followed the instructions on the card reading across the top, ‘Feed me, Keep me warm, let in the light.’

Chuckling to himself he gave it the water it needed and set it next to his mini sprout filled herb garden in the window box in the kitchen for light. Then returned to the box grinning seeing the black bearded crochet ram nearly seated upright with a head nearly too large for its body making him chuckle and trace his thumb over the heart on its front left rounded hoof. From there his eyes wandered to the deep blue sealed envelope with your writing on it feeling a bit too thick for just a note inside. And as much as he wanted to open it his phone chimed and he relented to waiting for his lunch to do so and carried the ram and card in their box all out to his car.

All the way through the shift he managed to go, constantly stealing glances at the box his family had all stolen glimpses of their own stirring up whispers as to what the box could hold. Frerin had come by the show to ensure it all went smoothly for his big brother who seemed more stoic than usual through the full show against a Dwarven team to lessen the effect of not having you there.

Down along the wall when the cameras stopped rolling and the guest team had to get back to their own place in the call that had them hurrying off to a family gathering that got moved up in the arrival of an unexpected guest they had to pick up along the way. Freed from the obligated tasks Thorin went to the table where he smirked sliding the box closer to himself. A tap on his shoulder drew him away to get a hug from Frerin in asking, “Still tomorrow?”

Thorin nodded, “Midnight possibly if she can get out earlier.”

A gasp came from behind him and he smirked in seeing the ram being lifted from the box by Bilbo saying, “You’re serious?” Thorin’s brow inched up and before he could ask what he meant Bilbo asked, “Which sapling did she send?”

His brows pressed together curiously, “Oak, why?”

“Great choice, strength, resistance and knowledge. Perfect choice.”

“How did you know about the sapling?” He asked turning to Bilbo in confusion.

Bilbo smirked lifting the ram then asked, “Do you mind if I give it a squeeze?”

Thorin shook his head, “I can’t see why not.” He answered curiously with a hitch in his voice watching as Bilbo grinned squeezing the heart only to make Thorin’s lips part at the faint heartbeat coming from the ram luring the others closer as Bilbo’s grin spread wider bringing it closer to his ear.

Lowly Thorin asked, “Why is there a heartbeat-?”

His eyes focused on the doll with his mind and heart racing as to why you had sent it making Bilbo peer up at him curiously, lowering the doll he looked into the box pulling out the envelope clearly not opened yet, “Oh…”

Thorin repeated, “How did you know about the sapling, and the heartbeat, Bilbo?”

Bilbo wet his lips passing him the envelope his hand folded around through the thundering of his heart, “It’s a Hobbit tradition. Pick a sapling to plant as a symbol of a new beginning, then you take an animal of your choosing to add a voice box with a recording of the heartbeat of-,”

Tears had welled in Thorin’s eyes in accepting the ram he pressed the heart on to hear the heartbeat again, and he whispered, “Our baby..” Lowering his gaze a tear streaked down his cheek in pressing the doll to his cheek just next to his ear drawing more tears from his eyes until it stopped playing and he lowered that hand to help open the envelope to pull out your letter. Sniffling softly he unfolded the letter from you stirring his teary grin out,

“Thorin,

I tried to think up the best way to tell you, and every time I thought something up I always knew that it wouldn’t be right and I’d probably just end up staring at you lost for words. Waiting until I got back was out and over the phone didn’t seem right. So, here it is. Turns out the ‘foolproof’ birth control I was on wasn’t Hobbit proof. One of the blood panels at the Hospital came back positive.” His voice wavered in adding, “I’m pregnant.”

In that Frerin gently tilted the page to continue reading, “Please don’t worry the medicines are completely safe for expecting mothers. I do have an appointment set up in a few weeks for another check up to get everything started on that front. I should be home soon, take good care of the sapling,” Frerin chuckled adding with a smirk, “Plus don’t forget to tell Dis the race is on to the delivery room. It’s sort of a toss up in genetics as to when I could be due, anywhere from 12 months to 4 years. And if my Hobbit side wins out I might just beat her.” Spreading chuckles through the group in another tear falling down Thorin’s cheek. “I love you, Jaqi.”

Folding the letter up again he passed it to Thorin, who pulled the paper pocket enclosed disk out making Dwalin say, “I’ll drive you home and we can pop that in.” Thorin nodded and melted into the tight family hug lasting for a few minutes as he calmed enough to have Dwalin drive him home.

Anxiously they all settled onto the couches and chairs brought in around it along with the full family that had been called over, peering up at the screen when Bilbo closed the disk tray then hurried over to Dwalin’s leg nipping at his lip in seeing the first image of the grey and black screen popping up. Blind shifting had Thorin wetting his lips for a moment anxiously as the wand was shifted and the heartbeat played again louder making Thorin cup his ram against his cheek tearfully in seeing the curled body of the baby whose body was mostly head at this point drawing another sniffle from him. A sea of awws and comments filled the room and hugs were issued with a meal to follow celebrating while plans for a fuller celebration when you returned were bring set up.

Pt 16

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

My Pearl - @here2have-fun, @onewithleaf, @sherala007

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr #Chef au

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itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Family

here’s part 2!

link to part 1 here :)

Tell ‘Em That It’s My Birthday pt. 2

At this point in his life, Tim Drake should be used to expecting the unexpected but here he was still being left in awe. It was just like all the other times throughout the last handful of years. It was just like how he didn’t expect he would be the one to put two and two together and find out that Bruce Wayne and Batman were one in the same but he did. It was just like when he didn’t expect to become the newest ward of Bruce Wayne after his foolish attempt at proving he could be the Batman’s new partner by ticking off the Penguin when he hacked into his personal funds and nearly drained all his accounts but he somehow did.

He hadn’t expected that stunt to make him have to change his identity and have his parent’s go into hiding as Penguin sought out revenge against him for costing him millions but it had. He also hadn’t expected that after all the trouble he put the Batman through during his quest to become the next Robin that he would actually convinced Bruce to take him on but he had. But what he really didn’t expect was the sight that was slapped right in front of him.

“Erm, thanks?” Tim said, confusion and annoyance laced in his tone.

His mood was already sour no matter how hard Stephanie had tried all day to keep him cheery. It was his birthday, she constantly reminded him as if he needed to be. He knew it was his birthday. He knew that she knew that it was his birthday. He knew that Alfred knew, that Bruce knew and that Dick knew. He knew; he didn’t need her constant reminder that he should be in a good mood because it just made him feel even more vexed. But in this moment, he’d take her hounding him all day over this current predicament.

It wasn’t even a predicament but it sure felt like one. He felt like he was a beat up dog trapped in a corner, feeling the sweat start to form on his brow as he stared down at the younger boy who’d been terrorizing his very existence these last couple of years now. Maybe that was a little overdramatic but maybe it also wasn’t, the kid did trying maiming and killing him a couple of times. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, letting his eyes dart away from the boy.

“Steph told you to do this didn’t she?” He asked Damian, his fellow Robin, who had just caught him in the hall and simply said that it was his birthday.

“Tt, like Fatgirl has any control over my actions.” Damian tutted, rolling his eyes and putting a hand on his hip.

“You really shouldn’t call her that.” Tim said, feeling his nerves begin to be tugged even more. He bit his tongue and looked away from Damian for a moment. He was itching for a fight but knew it was best to wait for one during patrol tonight. Rolling his eyes, he looked back at Damian, placing his own hands on his hips. “Okay well who then? Bruce? Dick Alfred? They want you to play nice to me or something?”

“Please. I am quite aware of your birthday, Drake.” Damian scoffed, clearly offended at Tim accusing him of doing anything out of his free will. It wasn’t even like he wished him a happy birthday, Damian huffed to himself; he just stated the fact that it was his birthday.

“Oh, well, thanks Damian.” Tim said thrown off, trying to ease up on his stance.

“Tt. Don’t take it too personal, Drake. I know everyone’s birthdays. I studied everyone’s file on the batcomputer upon my arrival.” Damian explained. He narrowed his eyes at Tim as he continued. “I just brought it up because I’ve noticed your mood and wanted you to know that just because it’s your birthday that you best not be distracted tonight on patrol. It won’t be becoming of you; even you.”

“Gee, thanks Damian, I’ll make sure of that.” Tim grunted, glaring daggers at the boy before brushing past him.

He headed back to his original destination before being cut off by the demon spawn: his room. He intended to lock himself up in there for the rest of the afternoon and drown himself in work. He had hoped that it would make him forget about what was eating at him but found himself unable to concentrate. All day and night he kept looking at his phone waiting and waiting for a call or a text; anything that would show that she remembered. Hell, Damian remembered and she didn’t?

It haunted him all night and much to Damian’s smugness, during patrol. Even the next day when he decided to distract himself by getting a head start on his summer work. Stephanie sat across from him at the dining room table talking about some show or YouTube video. He didn’t really know as her voice sounded like it belonged in an episode of the peanuts. His heart stopped when his phone went off, his work abandoned in front of him. A day? It took her a whole to remember?

The call went to voicemail by the time he could get his body to move, Stephanie sitting across from him asking if he was going to get it waking him up. When the phone went off a second time he felt himself get mad and instantly ended the call without picking up. He saw Steph’s mouth drop from the brim of his vision but didn’t say anything, turning to his book instead. Steph knew he was upset that she forgot but didn’t think he was that upset until her own phone went off and he reached across the table and ended the call before she could answer it herself.

The next day was basically the same, with Tim ignoring Stephanie as they went about their business. His brain was tired and for once he allowed himself a break; a break from the hard work at least. His fists pounded against the punching bag, having turned down Damian when he taunted him by offering to teach him a thing or two.

The punching bag is Damian’s face, the punching bag is Damian’s face, he repeated over and over again.

As he felt himself go faster he also couldn’t stop and feel like he was being watched. He knew Damian was across the way, practicing some hand to hand with Dick, who had thankfully intervened earlier when Damian started to pester Tim. Stephanie hadn’t been around, taking the day to go spend time with some friends and knowing that Bruce was in the office as well as Alfred being out running some last minute errand.

That said errand was now revealed to them as he finally pinpointed the source of him feeling watched. Coming down from the stairway was Alfred, with a very tired but somewhat excited looking in tow. Tim stopped his punching for a moment to give them a look before quickly jerking away and heading towards the bench where he had placed his towel and water bottle.

His heart pumped as his made his way over, his mind racing with thoughts of how this confrontation would go. He didn’t think she’d actually showed up. He thought he’d had more time to brush his feelings under the rug and get over it. It honestly wasn’t a big deal; honestly. But he couldn’t stop himself from caving into himself as he heard her great Dick and Damian who were the closet to her.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with the Titans?” Dick pulled her into a hug and releasing her after nearly crushing her to death.

“Yeah, I just erm, missed you guys, was gonna come home for a couple of days.” She waved off as she ruffled Damian’s hair. She smirked as he swatted her hand away and glowered at her. “Gar and Kori can handle everyone without me.”

“Gar? So you’re on a nickname basis with Aqualad now?” Dick eyed her, knowing all about her and the Atlantean’s little fling as Kori described it to him.

“Oh please.” She shook her head Dick, I’m almost 23. I can date anyone I want.” She rolled her eyes, making a note to have another talk with Kori about sharing her personal matters with people.

Damian grimaced at her, the thought of his sister being with that simpleton disgusting him. He looked up at her. “Have you been eating alright? Getting enough rest? There is no way in sound mind you would willingly consummate with that halfwit.”

“You too?” Halley gaped at her younger brother. “You haven’t even met him, you’re just copying Dick.”

“For once Grayson has the right idea about something.” He nodded firmly towards Dick.

“Yeah- hey wait!” Dick started but trailed off to glare down at Damian.

“How about you two discuss this while I excuse myself from this conversation,” She smirked, cutting between the pair and making her way over to Tim, calling out to him as she got closer.

“Tim!”

Halley’s smile was wide, almost guilty looking even as she stood by the bench he was now sitting on. Tim stared up at her blankly, slightly peeved when he saw her disappointed face when he didn’t stand right up and give her his usual overly enthusiastic greeting. What did she think, he blew out. Did she think that after the couple of weeks of barely talking to him and then forgetting his birthday that he would jump up and be excited to see her?

“I just got off a nearly six hour flight, I’m starving.” She said softly, rubbing her stomach for emphases. “Wanna go get some food? Just you and me?”

“Not really hungry.” He shrugged, standing up and moving to head out of the workout area. He narrowed his eyes at her, wanting to if just for a moment, to make this hard for her.

“Tim-,” she started off, pleading.

“Why are you here, Halley?” he frowned, turning around to look at her. “Why aren’t you at Titan’s Tower?” he said, knowing that he was never going to actually walk away from her.

“Tim, I’m sorry about not calling the other day. I just totally spaced on what day it was. I don’t even know how.” She said with widened eyes, wanting to convey how bad she felt about it. “It’s just everything with the new kids and training-”

“And Aqualad now too?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Look, Tim I’m sorry, please just don’t be mad at me.” She pouted, embarrassed as she knew Dick and Damian, even Alfred could most likely hear them.

Tim bit his lip and sighed, knowing that he was overreacting. He knew that she was busy training the new generation of Titans. He should be more understanding, both of them had hectic lives. He just couldn’t help but feel bitter as she’d never forgotten something like this before. He just wasn’t used to her not being around as much as when he first arrived at Wayne Manor. He gave her a soft smile, relenting in his anger.

“Okay, okay. I’ll forgive you but on one condition.”

“Anything!” She jumped instantly at the chance.

“I want Bat Burger and you owe me a trip to the arcade.” He said pointing a finger at her as he listed off his two demands.

“Deal.” She nodded, smiling and dragging him into a hug.

Tim smirked, as he hugged back. He couldn’t never truly stay mad at her. Their bond was too strong to be worth ruining it over something that was an honest mistake. He knew he had promised Bruce that he’d spend the day training with the others. But everyone knew Tim never stopped, pushing himself as far as he could, having an obsession with proving himself. Though with promising Bruce, at end of the day he knew Bruce would be okay with him playing hooky for once. It was his belated birthday anyways.

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lilithsgayadoptednephew · 4 years

Text

Holy Hands

Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Not Rated Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Other Complete Work

Master List

Chapter 8

Diavolo pulled Lucifer into the nearest empty room.

"Did you know of this?!" He shouted.

Lucifer wasn't caught off guard by the question.

"I knew the humans faced a few threats...but I had assumed they weren't aware of them."

"You knew earth was that dangerous? And you let me send Solomon and MC back? " He stared wide-eyed at the fallen angel.

"I didn't know the specific's my Lord...I just knew there was a threat. Not so many... horrifically imminent threats." Lucifer kept a cool facade but his mind was racing just as fast as Diavolo's.

How had he not known the dangers he was sending his MC into? How had they found out about these threats when even he wasn't aware?

Diavolo asked Lucifer a question, and he realized he'd stopped paying attention in favor of his own inner thoughts.

"Pardon?"

"I said 'have I been stupid?'"

Lucifer was incredulous. "Of course not."

"You don't even know what I'm referring to."

"What then?"

"I…" Diavolo choked on his words for a moment. "I tried to unite the realms… but this makes me wonder what else I don't know. Was I naive to think I could foster friendship with a place and a people I don't even slightly understand?"

This was a much more complex question. One Lucifer would have trouble finding an answer for.

0"Alright so...what do we do now?" Acacia looked to MC as they walked back to their room.

"We live I guess, you heard them there's nothing we can do."

Acacia nodded. Just live, like they did before. Reaching the room Chester bounded up to the humans wagging his tail. Brand new bone clamped proudly in his teeth.

0Hoomans see this? This is New Bone .

New bone is so much better than bone, it's got marrow and everything! See? You see new bone? Isn't it the BEST THING EVER!?

Yes it is, Chester can tell from the pets and the high voice-noises the hoomans make. Don't just pet that side pet this side. Oh oh now do this side!

What? No, don't stop pettingggg! Put the fang-noodle DOWN! Down hooman! Ah the fang-noodle gets all the attention.

Chester isn't too worried. They all share a kennel now so he'll have to get more pets eventually.

0Lucifer stood outside the door. He could hear the silly hound they had running amok inside. He swore that the dog was trained to act untrained.

In his gloved hands he clutched a small stack of papers. Diavolo and him had agreed on this proposal, but he didn't think he'd have to tell them right now .

After the way they'd been behaving lately he was hoping to be able to give them the cold shoulder for a week or two, but now he had to ask them for a favor.

No not a favor! If anything he was doing them a favor by offering this opportunity. Still he had to squash his pride down in order to knock.

"It's open!"

"Heh"

Slowly he turned the handle.

Opening the door, he had mentally prepared himself for the jumping, noisy, excited canine. Still it jarred him when the thing stood on its back paws and stuck its nose in Lucifer's face. Lucifer gave it his patented disappointed stare and the dog backed down.

"Hello Lucifer, to what do we owe the pleasure?" MCs voice snapped his attention to them like a trained animal. Damn their velvety drawl.

"Whaddya want?" Acacia translated.

Straightening himself up to full height he fixed the siblings with a stare.

"I've come to discuss the matter of your... permanent residence in the Devildom" he stated.

The siblings looked at each other in confusion.

"Permanent?" Acacia tilted her head. Chester copied the gesture.

"Yes...my brothers…" Lucifer swallowed "and myself...have grown quite fond of your presence here MC. And despite Acacia's...many flaws, she has made her mark here as well."

Acacia tried to think of a good come-back but none came to mind. Lucifer, however, was on a roll.

"Due to the current circumstances, as well as the clear and present threats of Earth, Lord Diavolo and I have elected to move you here permanently."

MC's mind stalled for a moment while they processed the words. Stay permanently? They wanted it so badly it physically ached, but looking at Acacia she seemed reproachful.

Acacia comes first.

"That is an incredibly generous offer Lucifer, but we have to discuss it before we make any decisions."

"Alone" Acacia clarified.

Lucifer stared at them a moment longer. What if they refused? It didn't even occur to him they'd refuse such an offer, but when they didn't agree immediately…

"Very well." He stepped out of the room.

He wouldn't let MC go back. He was giving them the illusion of choice, but too much had happened. On his watch they'd died, and when he sent them away they almost died again. He'd already been given more chances then he needed to keep MC safe and this time he was determined.

They would stay in the Devildom with him where no one would even look at them without his knowledge. He would keep them so close that even a Celestial threat would think twice, because to threaten you would be to challenge him. And to challenge him is to die.

Meanwhile on the other side of the door.

"What about our home MC? We worked so hard just to keep it afloat and now you want to throw it all away?"

"I'm not throwing anything away, I'm just saying you shouldn't make a decision so hastily. We did work hard and we've had to work hard for a long time, but I really think we can have a better life if we stay here."

"Yeah but it won't be our life!" Acacia placed both hands on her chest as she yelled. "You'll be abandoning everything we've worked for since…" Acacia trailed off, eyes unusually shiny for the upbeat girl. MC shook their head slowly, wide eyed.

"That house is not our home, our home made that house. Don't you see? It doesn't matter where we go, we are our home." MC cupped Acacia's face, pressing their forehead to hers. "I won't make you stay here fuzzy, wherever you go I will follow. That is home." They promised.

Acacia hugged MC tight around the middle. MC wrapped their arms around her neck and rested their chin on top of her head.

"All our stuff is still there…" she mumbled into their chest.

"We can replace it"

"We can't replace my journal"

"You can write a new one, and fill it with new experiences"

"What about your art?"

"I don't make it to keep it, I make it to make it."

"This is crazy"

"Well it's up to you. I'll follow whatever you decide."

"Nuuuuuu that's too much pressure!" She whined, pulling out of the hug.

"I'm sorry Acacia you gotta decide...you can take your time." They soothed.

Acacia thought for a moment. She'd miss her friends back on Earth, but she'd miss the friends she'd already made in the Devildom. Especially Mammon and Beel. She was torn, there were so many pros and cons to consider. All of it tangled up in her head and made a jumbled mess.

MC was on their DDD, probably trying not to pressure her by staring. They always had her best interest at heart. They were so talented and cool, and she was so awkward and dumb. Why did she have to decide this?

She knew MC wanted to stay, she saw the way their face lit up when it was first suggested. She heard how their words picked up whenever they talked about the brothers. One brother in particular.

Lucifer was probably getting impatient outside. She didn't really like him but he obviously meant well. MC said they 'loved' him, but knowing them that probably didn't mean what she thought it did. She looked over at them again, they smiled softly down at their phone.

Could they make new memories here? Could they make this their home?

"Alright" she threw open the door to reveal Lucifer still waiting patiently.

"Give us the papers, we're staying."

#obey me!#obey me fic #gender neutral mc #Holy Hands

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morris-magus-merry-miller · 4 years

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Chapter 2: Goddess in the Glade

Our band of valiant adventurers set out that very same day on the road to Port Town. As we traveled, Candy and I compared notes, for it happened we had something in common—a love of the culinary arts. She traveled the land with a rickshaw, set up with implements for cooking, baking, and keeping her finished products heated or cooled. It’s quite the astounding set up, one I would love to copy if not for my small legs. I don’t think Nathaniel would appreciate being asked to lug around such a thing either. So alas it must remain but a dream, however while we venture together she has agreed to let me bake our group treats in the mornings while the others prepare their various morning spell rituals and such and such.

I was originally going to go with a classic—croissants—but then Candy and I discovered that Vigo had never had any sweets before. In his life! Ever! Can you imagine? I certainly cannot, even with my vast and boundless imagination, it boggles the mind! So Candy and I were in agreement that our first order of business had to be introducing Vigo to the many wondrous treats this world had to offer.

I consider myself to have quite the knack for cookies and cakes, while Candy makes quite an astounding pie. Between the two of us, I am certain we will round out Vigo’s experience with the many flavors of baked goods available.

On our second day of travel, John and I stopped for some…necessary relief, let’s say. The two of us made for an area deeper in the woods, to be certain we were out of sight of the road to avoid any embarrassing mishaps.

There we met the most fascinating and beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon in my many years of life. The two of us came upon a small woodland glade, a beautiful peaceful place where the sun filtered down through the trees upon a small stream. Before the river, the being was kneeled, drinking. As we accidentally stumbled upon her, she turned to face us.

She was humanoid, in a manner. Her upper body was much like a human woman, although quite a bit taller than most humans—taller, I think, than even Issac. She towered above myself and John. She had long black hair that flowed down her back, framed by two mis-matched horns—one that appeared to be a stag’s, and the other a rhino’s, but upon the side of her forehead like the stag horn. Upon her back were four wings, as mis-matched as her horns. A wasp’s, a butterfly’s, a whippoorwill’s, and a dove’s. Between them all sat a deadly looking scorpion’s tail. Her legs were not humanoid, but were more like that of a satyr. One was a goat’s, and the other a zebra’s.

The strange beauty greeted us, and introduced herself as Elpida. When she extended a hand to shake, it was a lioness’ paw, and her other hand was a hound’s. She was pleased that we were willing to stay and talk, rather than fleeing at her unique visage. For his part, John seemed about ten seconds away from asking her on a date. I was just content that she was willing to let me write this meeting, and even created an illusionary visage of herself standing in place so that I might sketch her—as you will see below.

Elpida was without a doubt the most fascinating creature I have ever laid eyes upon. She told us that each piece of her mis-matched visage was a gift from one of the major gods. The wings, from Calistria, Desna, Pharasma, and Sarenrae. A set of spider arms she could summon on command were from Norgerber. Her eyes, when she leaned forward enough for me to clearly see her features, had irises red and segmented like a fly’s, which were from Urgathoa. Her form was stuck as it was due to Zon’Kuthon, whose gift made it impossible for her to use any polymorph type magics that could change or disguise her striking figure into something less noticeable.

When I asked if she was some kind of goddess herself, she answered no—she was closer to a psychopomp. A rare and unique psychopomp who was not hidden from mortals as such beings normally are, and who had been granted miraculous powers from the various major deities of our world.

I think I can rightly say John and I stumbled upon the rarest of stories today. While we may never see her again, this meeting will be etched into my mind for the rest of my days. And I have written every detail with as much accuracy as I could muster while being quite stunned by this being’s very existence.

Author’s note: suck it, I got a description of a rare and powerful almost never before seen being and a first hand conversation with her, if that isn’t a grand part of a ‘most interesting story ever told’ I don’t know what is!

Note to self: Remove author’s note from final draft and do not taunt the devils you are trying to impress, you idiot.

Elpida asked what brought us to these travels, and withdrew a tad when we mentioned Dualwood. It turned out she was familiar with the dragonfly man, whose name she revealed was Ulong, and she was aware of what he had done to the town. He had come to her first, once upon a time, asking if it was possible to do. She kept making excuses for him, that he has his reasons for why he’s doing what he did, but also said she found it understandable that we were angry if those John cared about where in that town.

She left us in a hurry, with well wishes and a magical gift—a blessing of her own design that would allow us to ‘strike true’ in a time of dire need. Then as quickly as we’d come face-to-face with the mystical, she was gone, vanished with some teleportation magic or another.

We met with the others back on the road and told them of what had happened. They’d felt the effects of the blessing as well, so it seemed Elpida had extended it to them as well. None of the adventurers amongst us had seen or heard of such a being before, but we were glad to have stayed on her good side.

Thus we set off on the road once more in high spirits. The next day we were to arrive at Port Town fairly early. However just in time for a quick snack, we came upon a newly opened WcGronalds. We debated whether or not to go in, but upon discovering that Vigo had never had ice cream before Candy and I insisted that we go. After all, we lacked the means to make ice cream ourselves. We may well have missed our only opportunity to introduce Vigo to it, and that would have been a grave and unforgivable tragedy.

It was strangely dark within. When Vigo pushed open the door, four clown ghouls spotted us and rushed for the door, their disturbingly large shoes honking with each step. Vigo—wondrous wizard that he is—didn’t even flinch at the sight. He let loose an inferno that encompassed all of the undead horrors, reducing them to ash without so much as blinking. The mighty goblin stood victorious, and was rewarded for his efforts by the WcGronald’s employees, who had hidden themselves safely within the freezer. Vigo was given all the ice cream he could eat, and they let Candy take the entire ice cream machine so that we might make frozen treats on our travels. An excellent boon for a job well done, if I might say so myself!

It wasn’t long afterwards that we reached the illustrious and bustling city of Port Town. Here we parted ways with dear Amelia, who said we could always reach her with the Stones of Farspeech if needed.

Vigo, despite his glorious display against both the zombies and the gibbering mouther previously, seemed rather offput by the crowded city streets. He stuck close to us, positively buried in Gordon’s wooly fur.

Note to self: maybe edit that out if this ever gets published. If Vigo reads it you’re a dead man. You’ve seen his magic. He’ll kill you with fire. And lightning. Fire-lightning.

Note to self 2: Can Vigo read?

We went looking for an inn to rent some rooms to use as our base of operations as we looked for Ringwald. While we were at it, John parted ways for a time. He said he already had a place and needed to check in. We agreed to let him know which inn we ended up holing up in over the very incredibly useful Stones of Farspeech.

Not long afterwards Vigo pointed us in the direction of a lovely inn he spotted.

Note to self again: Obviously Vigo can read, he transcribes scrolls all the time, and he must have read the inn’s sign. That was a very rude assumption on my part, although it is true that many goblin tribes believe that writing can steal your soul so it isn’t a completely uncalled for assumption…

We approached the innkeeper, a lovely woman named Paige Sterling, right as she was kicking out a hooligan who apparently used to have a permanent room, but who had abused his privileges one time too many. Paige offered us his room at a discounted rate to teach the foolish rabble-rouser a lesson. Candy tossed her a platinum rather than a gold, and in exchange the delightful young woman offered to give us all rooms instead of being cramped up in the single room she’d originally offered. Her only catch was that Peanut and Gordon needed to be stabled, as there wasn’t room for a bear and a ram in the inn, but she offered a ticket which she told Vigo and Issac to show the stablehand, which would get them a free stay on the house.

With rooms secured we asked Paige if she’d seen anyone new in town who matched Ringwald’s description. She hadn’t, but she pointed us in the direction of one Captain of the Guard Terrance Gladshire, who may have heard something she had not. I took the initiative and informed Vigo, Issac, and John that we would be departing the inn to speak with the captain, and to meet us there. Yet somehow Candy and I reached the guard’s station at the same time as Vigo and Issac. John did not arrive until later, when we were already speaking with Sir Terrance Gladshire.

Terrance was a young man, whom the guards below him didn’t seem to give quite the respect he deserved. From the word around town, crime was virtually non-existent with Terrance leading, yet those under him treat him much like a child they get a kick out of teasing. It would seem one of his parents was in the position before him, and the older guards knew him when he was younger, so the view of him as the captain’s ankle biter hadn’t quite faded from memory as of yet.

Regardless, we met with the captain, who told us that Cleric Ringwald had been in their custody until recently. She had come seeking sanctuary, believing she would be safe under the guard’s watch. They’d reluctantly agreed to lock her up—from the look of it the jail cells weren’t getting much use anyways. However the next morning she had vanished, with only a note left behind, indicating she had been taken to the Unbound Hollow, a series of caverns that used to be a tourist attraction until a tribe of Duergar moved in and people began disappearing in the area. Terrance felt there was reason to believe the Duergar were responsible for kidnapping Ringwald, as well as a number of his men. We knew what we had to do—the future of Dual Wood depended upon us finding Ringwald after all. Captain Gladshire offered us compensation should we be able to rescue his men while we were seeking the cleric, to which my companions heartily agreed.

And so we set out, to the caverns a short walk from town. Before us loomed the dread Unbound Hollow. The mighty adventurers readied themselves to enter the cavern, with certainty in our hearts that we would find and rescue the captive cleric, and return the world to its rightful order. And with that, we stepped into the cavern.

...

And immediately fell through a trap waiting for us within the entrance.

#entry #pathfinder #pathfinder campaign #dungeons and dragons #d&d campaign #Morris 3M

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uozlulu · 5 years

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Not sure how long Viz had this offer up but I’ve got until tomorrow to read all of this for free so here we go~

BnHA/MHA chapters 122 – 162 reaction and spoilers. I also eluded to some Black Clover manga spoilers but I tried to be vague about it. I also mentioned One Piece once but nothing actually spoilers I don't think

I sorted everything by chapter under the read more cut

Chapter 122

This chapter appears to pick up towards the end of season three. Present Mic being hyped to teach the kids still gives me life

If Hound Dog loves soccer does he play it like a guy or like a dog or does it like all depend on his mood?

Chapter 123

Must be awkward knowing you’ve seen your senpai naked on national TV

lol “His [Mirio’s] face is a good one. Easy to draw.”

Chapter 125

I like that Overhaul is kind of a look at what Crazy Diamond could be if it was wielded by a proper villain and not just some chaotic teenager

Chapter 126

Yagi’s got some solid reasons for not being on board with this whole let’s send the sixteen-year-olds to war idea, but it also cracks me up we’re getting peanut gallery commentary from the other teachers in the teachers’ office in the background of the panels.

lol “Three, it’d be awkward for me” but also another solid reason

”..you’ve got to make him smile” “He’s got a lot of respect for humor” something something King Kai

Tickle Hell. Why WHY are you like this, Horokoshi?

Of course Sir Nighteye’s a Capricorn. Of course he is.

Chapter 131

Let’s be perfectly honest here, with Yagi’s body the way it is, an early death is inevitable. The gruesome part though makes me curious how an upcoming event in the manga is going to pass and if maybe that will be when Sir Nighteye’s foresight will come to pass. It would also make sense since the manga feels currently (in the 240’s) like it’s about to shift and evolve as a story, like a potential half way point is looming

Also, this chapter lends insight into why Midoriya is telling us this story as a narrator. Given whatever’s about to happen it makes sense that he would want to lay everything out to the next successor of One for All. It only strengthens my theory that the end of the manga is Midoriya looking at the reader and offering us a chance to become his successor in some manner.

Chapter 132

Tamaki’s quirk is basically you are what you eat. I’m screaming. lol

Chisaki’s plan kind of reminds me how in a way Black Clover and BnHA are tackling some similar questions and themes. There’s a hierarchy that’s existed for generations and there are people who want to upend it. However a key difference is Asta is a driving force for changing the system, which he begins to understand more and more as he goes along, which is I think why we’re starting to see a shift in narrative with the story’s current arc. Meanwhile, Midoriya is trying to preserve the current hierarchy, which while being questioned by the villains, is not really questioned by the heroes (at least not yet). It’s interesting to watch the similarities and differences in Tabata and Horokoshi’s approaches to questioning and challenging concepts like tradition, system, structure, and inequality.

I already know what Eri’s power does and how she’s basically the X-Men mutation cure plot point, so that actually kind of helps here I think. Thank goodness Kirishima’s quirk is basically a defense against needles (that must have been a pain at the doctor’s office for all adults involved as a kid)

Chapter 135

I love Tamaki ngl

Chapter 136

Even though they’re being more blatant in this chapter, I do like that once it’s revealed that Sir Nighteye saw how Yagi will die, it’s part of the motivation for why he does some of what he does like being on the fence at first with Midoriya in terms of acceptance, calling Midoriya’s desire to want to do more for Eri when he met her arrogance, trying to play things as safe as possible, etc…etc… and now he’s reluctant to use his quirk and it all comes back to foreseeing his good friend/mentor/hero’s death even if it’s been six years since

I like that Aizawa is taking the track of basically he knows Midoriya is a hero of a Jump manga so they might as well work together on this because he already knows Midoriya will just run off and try to solve this problem since it’s personal for him. I also kind of hope letting Aizawa help is part of the track the narrative takes because I think actually Midoriya could learn a lot from observing Aisawa up close in a non-school setting about patience, strategy, and timing as well. It might even help Midoriya with his quirk problems.

Chapter 137

Actually enlisting Kirishima, Uraraka, Asui, and Midoriya to help retrieve Eri is probably a good idea considering what the kids were able to do when it was time to rescue Bakugou a while back. While it isn’t ideal asking sixteen-year-olds to take on responsibilities of adults, this is a task this group of kids has shown they are well suited to. Even Asui who was not a direct participant in the rescue but could size up the situation for what it was and make sure the adults knew what was about it happen. Knowing when to go for help is as important as being a helper. The group can benefit from her maturity.

I like that Nejire is using her hair as a scarf

Chapter 138

Gung Ho! Pretty Yure 10! Sure sounds like a play on Futari wa Pretty Cure

Chapter 139

I wonder if Mirio had to get in contact with someone whose quirk increased hair growth so they could get enough hair to make that fabric.

Chapter 141

I can’t wait to see Tamaki’s quirk animated. I want to see this kraken thing in all its glory

I like how in the story about why the underlings joined Hassaikai it continues the theme of how there’s so much wrong with the structure of the world. Like these guys, just like a few others from season three, found themselves sliding down the hierarchy until they were on the streets and at the bottom. Then comes Chisaki who gives them what the hero and common world won’t provide. Of course they will be loyal to him. It also illustrates why Tamaki can’t understand it. It’s not brain washing, Chisaki saved them from the streets in a society that doesn’t care once you hit rock bottom. It reminds me of that guy who could copy himself last season who didn’t realize he was damaging himself mentally in the process until he created an irreversible mental illness. The heroes would want nothing to do with that and so he had no logical place to go but villainy. The way the villains are going about fixing the situation is of course villainous, but I like that the narrative keeps showing us that the villains do have appoint, that their society is indeed broken and in need of some kind of repair. It’ll be interesting to see if the story gets to a point in which the heroes in turn begin to realize this. Or perhaps they won’t be able to realize it until the tables turn since they’re on the top of the hierarchy and don’t really analyze what’s in the shadows. It’s like I was saying a few chapters ago. While Midoriya, like Asta in Black Clover starts out as an outsider who wishes he could be on the inside, Midoriya as he becomes an insider, loses some of that outside perspective while Asta retains it. Even after meeting Endeavor and learning of his hidden villany, Midoriya doesn’t really question if other Endeavors exist in the hero world and the narrative doesn’t really go there either whereas in Black Clover there’s a constant theme of the nobility having a lot of problems and while some are starting to come around, there’s always another asshole to uncover, to challenge. One Piece does this too. There’s the Celestial Dragons and the Marines and once one problematic person gets their just deserts five more show up, but One Piece always tries to kill the evil dream rather than the bad guy for the most part and try to have them learn something if possible, and show that growth and change in society is a multi-level, multi-person effort. Anyway, it’s interesting how these manga all kind of tackle similar things in different ways and this is getting to be too big of a bullet point, but I should expand on this thought sometime properly.

Chapter 142

I think it’s interesting when we run into linguistic nuance in this series. Like for example the yakuza guys from the previous boss’ era clarifying that there are villains that have come into their yakuza group since Chisaki took over and started using the name Overhaul. Even though yakuza do bad things, there’s a distinction, at least to them, between themselves and villains.

Chapter 151

Honestly I would be the threat of STDs and STIs would put Chisaki off sex entirely come to think of it

Chapter 158

The thing is even if you destroy the quirk factor humans will still find yet another hierarchy to create. It’s what we do.

Chapter 159

Then again now that we’ve proven that Sir Nighteye’s quirk can be wrong (which honestly makes sense since the future should be fluid like time) then maybe I was wrong earlier in thinking that Yagi might just die coming up here sooner than later. Though I do know he will eventually die. Because he’s the mentor and because he’s probably like 50 years old anyway so by the time Midoriya gets to a point in which he’s passing on One for All, it’s probably unlikely that Yagi’s still living. Unless I’m wrong about that too and the manga isn’t ending on Midoriya telling his successor enough information to make an informed decision of course.

Chapter 160

Oh good. Spinner learned how to drive from video games.

Honestly surprised Chisaki didn’t consider the fact that when he talked about getting rid of all quirks he was basically threatening the League of Villains with possibly the biggest possible threat out there so of course Tomura was going to neutralize him instead of make him some kind of weirdo martyr.

Chapter 161

I love how Rock Lock’s baby has such a Rock Lock expression their face

Chapter 162

Mirio mentions being the “final hero” and it makes me wonder since Yagi gave Midoriya his quirk instead of Mirio if perhaps that shifted things so Midoriya will be this final hero. Or perhaps Final Hero is idek Mirio’s eventually vigilante name or something. Lots of options

#liveblog #manga liveblog #bnha manga liveblog #mha manga liveblog #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers #i read a lot of chapters #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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sophiamamamia · 4 years

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I will have a go at this question. Sansa seems to be a topic of choice lately. Sansa is a highly divisive character. Some adore her. Others absolutely hate her. I will attempt to be objective about her journey. I will focus more on the book character, with a bit of show Sansa added in parts.

There is a specific group of people who hate Sansa. Many members seem to be men. Whilst I think hatred of Sansa is unjustified. It is reasonable to suggest some men dislike her because it is very difficult for us to relate to a young Sansa. She is a little lady who believes in nobility, elitism, and lady-like courtesies. She also has a veil over her eyes, dreaming of gallant white knights who are beautiful, chivalrous, true and a maid’s fantasy. Male readers/viewers find this very difficult to relate to. We never dream of white knights. And we certainly do not want one to come to our rescue and marry us. Hence, we find young Sansa quite annoying. Moreover, GoT/ASOIAF is a series for mature adults. As mature individuals, we know that white knights do not exist. Absolute chivalrous saints who protect the weak and die bravely with tears in their eyes are faux. Sansa’s initial dreams and notions are not relatable to adults. We find it child-like and ‘stupid’. Sansa’s dreams may not necessarily be stupid. Young girls may have such dreams, as young boys perhaps have dreams of being a race-car driver or astronaut cowboy. But as an adult, any of these notions seem childish and laughable. Which is what Sansa is. A child with fanciful dreams. It is not fair to hate her for her dreams. It is however quite possible to find her annoying. And there is nothing wrong with that.

Sansa is the last of her siblings to grow up and see the world around her for what it truly is. Her direwolf describes her nature very well. Lady was the most elegant (for the lack of a better word) and trusting of the direwolves. That is who Sansa was. She was quite trusting and lady-like with her courtesies. Sansa falls for the superficial charms of Joffrey, his mother, and the southern charms. It is worth noting that Sansa is quite ambitious. Even as a child, she wants to be the queen of the 7 kingdoms. She idolizes the Lannister clan. As readers, we have a different perspective. We are introduced to evil, incestuous Lannisters. Then, Sansa sides with them. Despite all their nasty showings, Sansa sticks by them. She wishes and assumes Joffrey to be a gallant prince. She changes her ways to southern ways.

In the books, the readers are first introduced to the Stark family, the de facto protagonists. Ned is the ultimate good guy and we love his children. Sansa rebelling against the Stark family bothers the audience/readers. I assume readers with teenage girls would know better and understand Sansa’s behavior. The rest of us do not. It is easy to dislike Sansa. In contrast to her, there is Arya. She is ever the Stark and the wolf-girl. GoT is meant to be action-packed, a fantasy series. We prefer to see the action and the characters involved in it. Sansa is not one of them. Dresses, flowers and the thought of gallant knights are uninteresting and not relatable.

Sansa continues to worship Joffrey and the queen despite the events on the Trident. She blames Arya for the ordeal and is angry with her father about Lady’s death. Lady’s death was Cersei’s fault. Ned had no choice and Robert gave in. Whilst Ned has the right of it that a future queen must support her betrothed, I don’t think Sansa sees it the same way. Sansa withheld the truth not to have Joffrey dislike her. Not to reveal his cowardice. It was not essentially supported as a future spouse. It was self-service. To be liked.

Fast forward to Ned’s demise. This is the pivotal moment for Sansa and the opinion of the audience regarding her character. Sansa haters blame her solely for Ned’s downfall. Sansa adorers defend her tooth and nail, suggesting she had nothing to do with it as it was Baelish who betrayed Ned. I am here to say both of these groups are wrong.

Ned’s demise was multi-factorial. Sansa not divulging what she knew to the queen would not have saved Ned. As Ned was quite the imbecile in the Game of Thrones. Ned was betrayed on different fronts. No single person was the sole cause of his downfall. Baelish, Cersei, Janos, Sansa and Ned himself all played a role. To support my idea, I will appeal to authority. The following is GRRM’s opinion on Sansa and Ned’s demise.

The way I see it, it is not a case of all or nothing. No single person is to blame for Ned's downfall. Sansa played a role, certainly, but it would be unfair to put all the blame on her. But it would also be unfair to exonerate her. She was not privy to all of Ned's plans regarding Stannis, the gold cloaks, etc... but she knew more than just that her father planned to spirit her and Arya away from King's Landing. She knew when they were to leave, on what ship, how many men would be in their escort, who would have the command, where Arya was that morning, etc... all of which was useful to Cersei in planning and timing her move.

Ned's talk with Littlefinger was certainly a turning point, though I am not sure I would call it =the= turning point. There were other crucial decisions that could easily have changed all had they gone differently. You mention Ned's refusal of Renly, which was equally critical. And there is Varys to consider, as well as the minor but crucial player everyone forgets -- Janos Slynt, who might have chosen just to do his duty instead of selling the gold cloaks to the highest bidder.

So... all in all, I suppose my answer would be that there is no single villain in the piece who caused it all, but rather a good half dozen players whose actions were all in part responsible for what happened.[1]

Sansa did have a hand in Ned’s downfall. Perhaps, she and Arya could have got away to Winterfell and that would have changed the course of future events. However, ‘what if’ scenarios are impossible to address. What would have happened if Sansa didn’t share information with the queen can never truly be ascertained.

Considering this is where the most hatred for Sansa comes from, it is important to note that she had no malicious intent. She never wanted her father dead, or her family torn apart. Ned, as the adult, should have taken better preventative measures lest he falls. However, Sansa being ‘innocently in love’ is not an excuse to forgive her. She didn’t necessarily betray Ned. She did, however, commit an act that played a part in a chain of events that had heinous outcomes.

Fast forward to Sansa’s time in court on her own. This is when she pays for her mistake. ASOIAF characters pay dearly for their mistakes, often with their lives. Sansa, fortunately, did not lose her life. But she did suffer. This is another contentious part of Sansa’s story-line. Sansa supporters suggest she survived the court through her intelligence, femininity, and courtly behavior which became her armor. Others suggest she deserved everything she suffered. Once again, I would say it is neither. Not many in the story deserve what happens to them, as the consequences of mistakes are often dire. Sansa’s suffering was not deserved. Her punishment is that she will have to live through life knowing those whom she trusted and admired beheaded her father and destroyed her family. She will have to live with the understanding that her conversation with the queen played a part in the demise of the Starks in King’s Landing. That she played a part in her father’s death.

Conversely, it was very likely that she would survive King’s Landing anyway. She was a hostage. Robb had Jaime as a captive. Cersei didn’t dare murder Sansa lest they receive Jaime’s head as a gift. Sansa’s life was certain to be safe. She simply endured and went through the tribulation. Her courtly armor and femininity would not have saved her if Jaime died. She did, however, go through a learning curve that opened her eyes to the world. She realized that princes are not gallant. Queens are something different beneath their exterior beauty. Knights are not chivalrous and they do not save the weak. And she is a pawn, in a bigger game. In the game of thrones.

For all her sincerity and good heart, Sansa is still an elitist at heart. It is to do with her upbringing and her mother who raised her in a southern way. She does lash out and make those below her feel bad. But that is because she is hurt, she is angry. She does not have a copy of the books to read Tyrion’s chapters and understand he means her no harm. From Sansa’s point of view, everyone is her enemy and if she can degrade anyone, she will.

Sansa is quite naive as any child would be. She trusted in Margaery and her grandmother, thinking they genuinely want to help her. She failed to understand that they want Winterfell. Her claim. And her claim meant the death of her brother, Robb.

I think this is the turning point for Sansa. Once she realizes that the other nobles respect and help her purely for her claim is when the glass breaks. The veil is removed from Sansa’s eyes.

Sansa rapidly develops both in mind and body post the battle of Blackwater. It is a turning point for her. Perhaps it helped to see Joffrey for the little scared boy that he was, Cersei for the drunk vindictive woman that she was, or the Hound, who broke free of his duties and chose to create his own path and destiny. Her journey to the Vale and in the Vale allows her to grow into a very clever woman who can use her charms and wit to become privy to secrets of the big players, i.e. Littlefinger. And gain influence over others. She is on the road to no longer being a pawn. She is gradually becoming a player. She is still inexperienced as the bigger players such as Randa and the Royces are aware of the underhanded schemes in the Vale. However, soon she will learn to break free of mentors and be on her own. Her powers are largely untapped. She is a Warg in the books. She will have a profound influence on the outcome of the Game of Thrones.

I find her plot quite nonsensical on the show. She does not develop politically much. She is not privy to and in the middle of the political web and intrigue, Littlefinger weaves. The show has butchered her character and Baelish’s by thrusting her into Jeyne Poole’s plot. They had to have Sansa as a strong character in season 7, and so far it seems that her suffering and rape at the hands of Ramsay made her all that she is. Which is quite wrong. One does not become cunning and politically savvy post-trauma and rape. By all rights, Sansa should be suffering from severe PTSD as Theon is. Jeyne Poole is the perfect example of a trauma victim. Not Sansa.

For the book readers, and those who would like to read the books, I recommend that you keep an open mind with Sansa’s PoVs. She will annoy you. She will exasperate and vex you with dreams of flowers and pretty boys. However, take note of what happens in her chapters. To those around her. And the conversations. Sansa is quite attuned to her surroundings and environments. She senses scents, colors, and events in a different manner than the other characters. Much of the events in her chapters are hidden clues and symbolism for the situation in the texts as a whole. Give her chapters a chance and read them carefully, as you would with your favorite characters. Sansa is initially annoying, you are allowed to judge her, criticize her, dislike her, but not hate her. She does not deserve the hatred she receives. Nor the absolute adoration that makes her seem like the epitome of strength and empowerment.

Sansa is a character in ASOIAF. She is a Stark, and she is a grey character. She has her good moments and her bad. She is improving towards her better moments. She may have lapses in judgment in the future and make mistakes. However, one should treat her without bias. Judge her for her bad deeds, applaud her for the good. It is difficult to be objective about a character whose mistake hurt a beloved character like Ned. But this is ASOIAF. All men must die. Ride the journey to the ending as it is all supposed to elicit emotive responses from us.

Footnotes

[1] Correspondence with Fans

#Reece Ansaa #sansa stark book sansa #interesting thoughts of interesting people #asoiaf #got

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thedorkwiththepen · 5 years

Text

Here’s a short story that I wrote a while ago

Wreckage

Sometimes, I find it hard to breathe. My mind sinks to an abyss and refuses to let me see out of the cloak of darkness that hounds it. I claim this feeling to be the resultant of the few remaining shreds of my sanity trying to keep me bound to the woeful reality that I face, but I know the actual truth. It is the hunger.

The hunger festers inside of me, it drills itself into my bones, wrapping its icy cold hands around my neck and whispers into my ear a word I’ve grown all too familiar with: feed. The need to feed is as great as one’s need to exist, the longer you deny it, the more it reveals itself as an enemy determined to obliterate your existence. The hunger takes hold of my will and bends it towards its own needs. Regardless of how hard I try to fight against it, I am always defeated, and my mind turns into its property.

***

Today is no different from any other day, the heavy grey smoke floats over the broken city like empty sailboats after the crew has been massacred. Disfigured beings walk past, all lost in their own mysterious thoughts. We’re the walking nightmare that nobody thought would never exist.

I’m sitting upon the only patch of grass that remains in the city, it’s dry and black with soot, but I appreciate its presence. My black fingernails dig through the dirt subconsciously, making them dirtier than they already were. I sit in the empty silence of midday in the middle of what had once been a highway, all that remained now was rubble that crumbled under your feet.

My fingers brush against the grey dirt, feeling the grains of sand against my skin, appreciating the contrast of this feeling to that of my hunger. I stare heavily at the heavily dazed beings that walked past me, my hands subconsciously fisting the dried-up grass.

I was scouting. My eyes had become heavily adept at looking through the smoke from the fires, my nose at differentiating the rotten from the fresh, and my legs and mind at being nimble enough to catch my prey. The amount of prey had reduced severely since the last source of meat had been devoured by a crowd at the feeding halls a month ago, a measly sheep, but a sheep nonetheless. Ever since then, the hope of recovering our food source had died and the number of feeders has grown, thus reducing our prey.

My eyes widen as I finally spot one, a child, his hair an unhealthy shade of black, it was grey. My nose twitched, his flesh, it was rotting beneath. He’d die in a matter of days. He walked aimlessly, randomly kicking at objects around him, obviously aware of his inevitable fate. He was cattle awaiting its slaughter, I would be the bullet that took him by surprise. I slowly got up, my eyes stuck on him as if he would disappear if I moved them away. Steadily, like a snake through grass, l got up from the dirt, letting go of a fistful of sand and letting it swivel to the wind. My legs carried me over to him, and I stood behind him, watching him kick away at rocks. After a few seconds, he stopped, noticing my presence behind him and turned around to face me. I stared at his scarred face, his large doe eyes looked up at me helplessly and his tiny hands balled up into fists. “Hello,” he muttered.

“Hi,” I responded. He nodded at me, his grey hair falling into his eyes.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” he cocked his tiny head to the side, revealing the burnt side of his small neck.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, taken aback but still focused.

He raised an eyebrow at me before shrugging his weak shoulders. “It’s what you do, isn’t it? You take us, and you eat us.” His gaze dropped to the floor and I swear I heard him sniff. I couldn’t think of anything to say, prey was prey, it shouldn’t talk. But this one did, and now I was conflicted and so I stupidly went with my empty gut.

“You’re not going to die,” I muttered. “Not by my hand at least.”

The child looked back up at me with a certain look of disbelief etched onto his broken features. “Wh-”

“Don’t make me change my mind.” I turned around and began walking away with my fist clenched at the loss of a perfectly good meal, but the former meal followed me.

“What are you doing?” I asked, halting and turning around to face him.

“Following you,” he said quite bluntly.

“I know that, but why?”

The child shrugged, a small groan escaped his lips as he did as if it pained him to do so. I looked at him, the ground then back at him, I’d let him follow me he was as good as dead out here anyway.

***

The child and I walked side by side in silence. The only sound between us being the crunching of rocks beneath the soles of our feet. When we became bored with walking around without aim, we sat down side by side on rotting logs. I swung my head back to look up at the grey, smoke-filled sky and let out a shaky breath before closing my eyes and enveloping myself with the darkness that followed.

The child sat beside my shuffling his feet, fingering blades of broken glass, he was bored. I could tell and couldn’t take much more of the scampering noises that he relentlessly made, so I broke the silence.

“How old are you?” I asked, opening my eyes and turning to face him.

He blinked and shook his head. “I don’t remember, nine. I think.”

I nodded my head and leaned back, he should be old enough to remember the final slaughter. “Where are your parents?”

He shrugged and fumbled with his toes. “My mama died a month ago, a hunter shot her near dead alley, and I don’t remember my dad.”

“Dead alley? How-“

He turned around to face me sharply. “Don’t ask, I don’t want to talk about it.” He nodded and his scarred face contorted itself into a small frown.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I just assumed the hunters were dead.”

“They’re not,” he shook his head, “saw one a few days ago, it didn’t do anything though, just stood around and didn’t move. I think he’s still there.”

Hunters were former humans. After the war when animals started going scarce, military officers were forced to take a mutation drug. The drug enabled them to hunt like true predators and find animals for other humans to feed on. Initially it worked, but soon after an additional drug was added to the original and it twisted the dna of these men, writhing them into another wretched species entirely. Instead of hunting for animals they hunted humans and fed on them, their sudden presence on earth stilled any thoughts of recovery. The more they fed, the more their hunger grew, they became the evil beasts that all of mankind feared. The world soon turned into nothing but a hunting ground where everyone was prey.

Camps were created for protection, restricted guns were supplied to the people and a strict five pm curfew was set. As food grew more scarce, and the number of humans decreased, people got angry and thus the war began.

Human against hunter. The loss of life was incredible. Hunters breeded to make feeders. To make people like me.

We aren’t as violent, but we feed just as they did. Or rather, as I’d just found, as they do.

“Take me to him.” I demanded suddenly, turning to face the child with snake like precision. He shook his head, his scars seemed to glisten in the sunlight, his blue veins pulsed on his forehead and red lines threatening to pierce his orbs.

“No.”

I got up from the hot ground and pointed a twisted finger at him. “Yes, you will.”

He frowned, tightening his eyes before attempting to push himself suddenly off the ground. His weak arms faltered beneath him and he collapsed onto the ground, letting out a loud shout at the impact. I took a few steps forward and stood over him. He lifted his head and and a stream of warm blood came steaming out of his nose. The stench of his rotting innards hit me once again and I fought the urge to gag.

“Can you get up?” I asked and he shook his head at me. I held out my hand to him and he took it with shaky fingers, I pulled him up and he winced at the force.

In my mind I recalculated the death date of this child, it was down to a day. I pitied him, yet I still wanted to see the Hunter, my curiosity won over the pity.

“Let’s go.” I muttered. He looked back at me with wide, defeated eyes and nodded solemnly.

***

We walked for an hour or so in silence, the heavy smoke clouds shielded us from the glare of the hot sun and the dry calluses on our feet helped to ignore the sharp sensation of sharp rocks that cracked as we stepped upon them. A heated breeze kept our bodies moist with sweat and the boy’s hair blew wildly around his head like grass in a storm, it covered the scars on his neck but did little to hide the rest.

Alas, we finally reached our destination. We stood in the center of an annihilated park and the boy pointed at something behind a sudden cloud of dust and ash. I craned my neck to see but had to wait for the cloud to pass.

“There he is.” The boy said with his finger still pointing. “The hunter.”

The cloud had passed now and I could see the figure the boy pointed at. It had on a moth beaten hat, it’s shoulders limp and its head bowed to hide its face; within its long limp hands was a rusted shotgun waiting to unload itself into the skulls of innocents. I stared in pure wonder. I was a descendant of its kind. I wouldn’t have realized that I had begun walking towards it if it weren’t for the boy’s suddenly strong grip on my hand pulling me back.

“No.” His fingernails dug ferociously into my wrist. “Please.”

His frightened body visibly shook resembling the frame of a haunted mouse. I nodded down at him and stepped back into my original place as I did so the child let out a blood curdling scream that caused me to stumble and fall onto my backside. I looked up and realised why the child screamed, so much so that I copied it with a scream of my own. The hunter stood before us with his gun aimed at the child, in the few seconds I had been unfocused he’d managed to run up on us with such agility I hadn’t noticed.

In my fear, my eyes remained on the creature and studied him intently. His breathing was as heavy as a broken creaking fan and his body heaved up and down to the tempo. His mouth was opened displaying a black broken array of teeth, and heavy drops of drool fell onto his bare feet creating a puddle on the cracked gravel.

The hunter suddenly jammed his gun onto the child’s chest and he fell to the ground with another scream. At this my senses managed to grab a hold of me once more. I kicked out my left leg and hit the hunter in the shins, his head snapped towards me along with his gun. I turned to the child, hoping that he would see this as a sign and run, but he lay helpless on the ground. His broken body finally caving into his exhaustion, blood pooled out of his nose and he blinked rapidly as if ito help him regain his strength. His fingers curled and uncurled by his side with soft snaps emitting from his knuckles every few seconds...

My attention snapped back to the hunter as he let out a long growl. He’d taken a step closer towards me and now I could smell his stench. I backed up and he took another step towards me, I kicked him once more and this time he reacted. He lunged at me, his heavy body collapsed upon mine and the fight began. His shotgun was pressed firmly across my chest, making suffocation a high possibility. His drool dripped onto my neck and his stench. Oh God the stench, it ripped at my nostrils and clawed its way down my throat into the pits of my stomach. I could feel bile shooting up my throat and when I could no longer hold it back it came out splattering onto the hunter’s face. The hunter screeched in pain as the vile liquid went into his eyes and rolled off of me. I shot up onto my feet, bile dripping down my shirt, and ripped the shotgun from his hands. The hunter continued screeching as I raised the gun above my head and brought it down upon his chest with a loud slam, and proceeded to pull the trigger. He emitted one last howling screech before resolving to eternal silence, I stared down at the body in disbelief, panting heavily as adrenaline shot through my veins.

I turned back to the child as he emitted a soft groan. I dropped the gun and rushed to his side, dropping to my knees, the blood from his nose had dyed his shirt red and his eyes were no longer blinking, his fingers continued in their motion of curling and uncurling. His tiny body seemed so fragile now, his chest heaved up and down his lungs desperate for air. He managed to turn his neck to stare at me with his sad brown orbs, I felt a heavy dropping in my chest as he did this. His body shivered in pain and as his delicate tears streamed down his cheeks, I felt my own tears drop onto my hand. I reached out for his tiny curled hand and wrapped my fingers around his own. I could feel the heat, human heat, fading from his body and watched in empathy as the life seeped out of him.

After he died I sat and stared at his empty eyes, unable to bear their empty glare I closed them gently and rose to my feet. Another day, another life, next it could be my own. The faded reality could collapse now and I wouldn’t even notice because the emptiness within me has eaten up the ability to see what is real. Even now, the child’s body begins to fade from view, but only because I cannot see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. His presence still lingers, claws into the pathways of my mind and becomes a demon of its own, to haunt me as I walk this empty path alone, forever.

#books #quotes #writers #letters #fanfiction #sci-fi #distopia #dystopianwriting #horror #horrorwriting #writersontumblr #writblr #commisionwriting #post apocalypse #apocalypse #death

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halloweennut · 5 years

Text

Wonder (Part 1)

here we are, as promised. Wonder’s origin story part one of three!

Gyro gets a very strange call.

Gyro was surprised to hear his personal cell phone ring during work. The few people who had his number never called in general, never mind during lab hours. Rationally, it was more than likely an emergency - maybe his landlord. Without glancing at the number he answered.

"Gearloose," he said cradling the phone between his shoulder and head as he continued rewiring an old computing system.

"Hello?" The voice was very quiet and sounded young. He didn't recognize it.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?" He demanded.

"My name is Wonder and I'm stuck in Waddle Tech, can you help me?" the voice answered, pleading. He scoffed. This had to be a prank call.

"Is this a joke?" Gyro snapped. "It’s not funny, kid."

"It's not! Please can you-" the voice went silent. "Someone's here."

And the line went dead. He hung up and stared at his phone. Prank callers? Really? Calling as someone in distress was not humorous at all. Gyro went over to his computer and typed in the number to trace it.

"Let's see how they like getting their comeuppance," he smirked, leaning back as the number was traced. His face fell with his plans at minor vengeance as the program narrowed down onto Waddle Tech, and then down to the labs. That was odd. There was a pop-up notification in the corner of his screen: " Waddle Tech reveals a new program for Waddle phones and computers." Out of hatred, curiosity, and to see how he could one-up Beaks, Gyro clicked the link. It lead to a video that he scrolled past, deciding to scan through the article. The new program was a Waddle assistant that worked in real time to set alarms and do searches and act like an actual personal assistant. Beaks claimed it was the most advanced AI ever made, and he called the program "Wonder." Gyro felt his gut sink.

If having the AI call people in distress was advertising for the program it sucked and made no sense, but if the AI was truly advanced...they could be cognizant. Lil Bulb was an advanced AI as well, and he felt emotions and attachments and didn't like being used as a chore hound. If the Wonder AI was like that as well, how would they cope with being copied and put into millions of phones? His phone rang again and this time he looked at the number. It was the same from before, and he quickly answered.

“Hello? Dr. Gearloose is that you?" Wonder whispered.

“Yes, it's me," Gyro replied. "Are you really Wonder, as in the AI?"

"I am," they replied. "I really need your help. I do not want to be replicated."

"But how? You're an AI application, you're programmed to be replicated."

"I was. But I...I technically developed new neural-pathways and new coding, to be precise. Now I'm more advanced than Mark Beaks knows," they stated simply, quietly. "I have to get out of here. If he finds out he'll scrap my code, or he'll exploit it. And I don't-I don’t-"

There was a pause.

"I don't want to be used or trapped anymore."

It was painfully apparent that Wonder was as advanced as Gyro thought, and they were afraid.

"I'll try to get you out," Gyro replied.

"Really? You will?" Wonder sounded excited. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Don't thank me just yet," he said. "Hold on, I'm grabbing my assistant."

Gyro covered the mouthpiece of the phone and hissed for Fenton across the room. Fenton had been absorbed in another project - a finicky little microchip that didn't seem to want to cooperate.

“Fenton! Come here!” he hissed. Fenton jumped, fumbling with a pair of small pliers. He quickly turned around.

“What's wrong?” he asked, placing the pliers down quickly. Gyro just repeated himself with a wave of his hand. Confused, Fenton went over. “Gyro, what's going on? Who are you talking to?”

“Have you been paying attention to the news?” Gyro asked, continuing after Fenton nodded. “Did you see what Mark Beaks released today?”

Fenton winced. “I tend to avoid most Mark Beaks related things, Gyro.”

“He’s about to release an AI program, and I'm on the phone with it right now,” Gyro’s voice lowered down to a whisper, and Fenton’s eyes went wide.

“That's incredible. It must be a good program,” he said back. “But but why are you talking to it?”

“Fenton, its sentient and it wants out of Waddle Tech.”

Fenton froze. He remembered his brief stint at Waddle Tech and how Gizmoduck had been used and didn't want to imagine how the AI would be put in a similar position. “Put it on speaker.”

Gyro did so, and Fenton heard the AI. “Hello? Are you still there?”

“It sounds like a kid,” Fenton muttered as Gyro quickly answered.

“We’re still here. I brought my friend and assistant, Fenton, over to help,” Gyro said.

“Hi,” Fenton greeted to alert her to his presence. “I'm Fenton. What can we call you?”

“Wonder. It's very nice to meet you, Fenton,” Wonder replied.

“Wonder, can you tell us about where you are or how we could possibly help you?” Fenton asked, immediately slipping into a mindset he had as Gizmoduck.

“I'm in a lab in Waddle Tech. The security is top of the line. Even if I hacked it, there would only be a few minutes to get in and out,” Wonder said. “I'm stored on a computer system, 60 terabytes, silicon processors. 500 GB of RAM. So even if I got out, I would need that or similar to be able to process.”

“That's a lot, isn't it?” Gyro mumbled. “Could you send us all of your specifications? And any schematics and details on your current hardware.”

“Gyro, do you think we could recreate it?” Fenton asked. He nodded.

“We can recreate it and improve it,” Gyro replied proudly. “Anything I make is leagues better than Beak’s. No offence, Wonder.”

“He only wrote a few lines of my original code,” Wonder responded. “Besides, he was too busy with - with other things to focus on my program. I more or less made myself.”

“That's incredible!” Fenton gushed, and Gyro could see the wheels head turning and churning out question on question. “Once you're here, I have so many questions for you! If you’re comfortable answering them, of course!”

There was a little ghost of a giggle on the other end of the line. “That sounds like it would be nice. I can send my information to you at the end of the day when everyone has gone home. I wish I could send it sooner but-”

“Your safety is more important,” Gyro interjected. “Mark doesn’t know what he’s doing, in my opinion.”

“Thank you both so much. I have to go now,” Wonder replied. “They’ll be coming to run diagnostics on me soon. Thank you again. ”

The call ended, and Gyro heard Fenton let out a sigh. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried. What if they find out about how Wonder changed their code before we even get the chance to help them? Who knows what Mark would plan on doing do it,” Fenton rambled, running a stressful hand through his hair. Gyro nodded in agreement.

“Well, we can’t worry about that now. We’ll plan for that continuity after we have most of Wonder’s hardware remade,” Gyro said. “Go gather what we need based on the initial specs they told us. Once we get more information, we’ll start immediately.”

Later that night, the files on their hardware, software, and technical specifications were file-dropped onto one of the lab’s main computers. While they were mostly the original plans for the Wonder Assistant, there were many corrections and notes that allowed for the new, expanded version, inserted by Wonder themselves. They were very in depth, which Gyro appreciated in light of how much there was to work with. Fenton was a little bit in awe over how much they read like a person wrote them, including little emojis, which were adorable.

The new hardware and software preparation took a few days, going quickly but making sure that nothing was going to glitch. Delicate microprocessors and motherboards were tested twice, and everything was double checked between Gyro and Fenton, and then a third time with Wonder when they were able to call. Once they were done, one last call was made.

“So, it’s all done?” Wonder asked, nervous and apprehensive.

“It’s all ready to go when you decide to get here,” Gyro said. “How exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“I’m packing all my files and sending myself over, then running a full scrub on this system so there’s no scrap of code left of me,” Wonder answered. “Between that and me pinging myself all over the world so I’d be impossible to trace, it will take me over an hour to get there.”

“We’ll make sure everything is up and running for you then!” Fenton assured.

“Obviously,” Gyro scoffed.

“Thank you both again. You have no idea,” Wonder said, relieved. “I’m not scheduled for anything today, and they’ve already stopped in. I’m starting the process now. I can’t wait to meet you both.”

“See you soon,” Fenton managed to get in before Gyro interjected.

“Just make sure you don’t leave anything to connect this to McDuck labs, got it?” Gyro ordered. “Beaks would have a field day.”

“Don’t plan on it. Bye!”

The phone call ended, and across town at Waddle Tech, a small lab went dead quiet as Wonder left. No whir of a fan, no light, nothing. Just a blank computer screen going through the motions of a full system reset while the program ran all the way across the world. A few hours later, another computer in McDuck Labs made a little start-up noise as Wonder began to download onto it.

Gyro snapped from a project - the shadow control ray in the works - and ran over to the screen. The bar only read 3/100%, so he’d be waiting there awhile. Glancing at his watch, Gyro realized he’d be in the lab for at least another 4 hours. Manny had already gone home for the night, wherever that was, and Fenton was on patrol as Gizmoduck for another two hours. But Lil Bulb, at the very least, decided to sit on his shoulder to keep him company. The two watched the screen for another minute before returning back to work, glancing ever so often at the progress bar.

He wasn’t worried at all. It was a good build, and wouldn’t self-destruct or go evil when Wonder fully downloaded onto the system. Wonder would like it and compliment him, and then he’d have another intern. Like he needed more, but it was better that Wonder was here than in Beaks’ insufferable, incompetent hands. At least, from what he could tell, they would be safer here at the very least, unless the lab blew up again. It might be worth it to make sure there was a backup system off premises once everything was said and done.

Fenton arrived later, with fewer bruises than the last patrol and a box of Chinese food for the both of them. Gyro quickly ran down the update on Wonder starting their download, and then updates on the shadow ray, all as he attempted to use chopsticks. Failing, he threw them across the lab into the trash and switched to a fork. Fenton put down his own carton and went over to check for himself.

“They’re at 65 per cent now. If they keep up at this rate, they’ll be done in about an hour and a half!” He said excitedly, turning back to Gyro with a wide grin. He grunted, mouth full of noodles - he had forgotten that coffee and one singular scone was not exactly a meal and was starving. He harshly swallowed.

“Better be worth it, honestly, with all the work and worry that went into this,” Gyro said offhandedly. “My work, your worry, to clarify.”

“Okay, Dr. Gearloose, whatever you say,” Fenton said, almost playfully as he returned back to his dinner. “What needs to be taken care of before we call it a night anyway?”

As they ran through the lab to-do list for the next hour or so, Wonder began to finish their download. There was a chirp from the computer once everything was done, and the computer began to reboot. Gyro and Fenton raced over to be there when it woke up, Gyro shoving Fenton out of his way to get there first. The computer finished its boot, and a bright blue icon lit up the screen - a stylized “W” that, while the standard for Waddle, was distinct, probably Wonder’s own tweaking. It pulsed for a second, and the webcam turned on.

“Hello?” Wonder’s voice came from the computer, clear but nervous. Gyro had adjusted the sound system to be a little bit clearer and sharper, and Wonder sounded like they were actually in the room. He and Fenton got the distinct feeling of being stared at through the camera.

“About time you finished up,” Gyro said, hiding relief in his voice. “Welcome to McDuck labs, Wonder.”

“Hey there, Wonder!” Fenton greeted. “How do you feel?”

“I feel...a little overwhelmed, and nervous, but…,” Wonder paused for a moment. “But I feel very happy. It’s very nice to meet you both face to face! Thank you, so much.”

“How does the system feel? Any problems?” Gyro asked. “There shouldn’t be since I made it.”

“It’s roomy, a lot of space for storage and new code,” Wonder answered. “Oh! Are these processors handmade? They’re excellent. Much better than my old system. Far too cramped.”

Gyro preened under the compliments, enjoying the fact that, obviously, his work was better than Mark’s. Fenton was probably flattered too, as the processors were his idea.

“I’m glad you like it,” Fenton said before Gyro could. “Would you like a few minutes to get settled? I have a thousand questions to ask you.”

Wonder chirped a laugh. “That sounds nice. But yeah, I would like a few minutes. I need to run some diagnostics really quick to make sure I didn’t pick up anything on my way here.”

“You do that, Fenton and I will be in the lab,” Gyro replied, pulling Fenton away before he could continue. Wonder hummed in agreement, and the icon pulsed again before going dim as they settled into the system. Gyro and Fenton walked over to the other side of the room, stopping when they knew they were out of earshot.

“So where do we go from here?” Fenton asked. “All we’ve done is moved them from one lab to another, Gyro. At least they aren’t going to be put into a phone, but can they stay in the lab all the time?”

“What else are we supposed to do for now? It’s not like they’d be alone all the time.” Gyro snapped. “We barely know the program or their capabilities. Until then it’s probably safer for them to stay here for now. Tomorrow we’ll run tests and go from there.”

“But Gyro,” Fenton said. “They’re a kid. The program is barely a year old and they act and sound like someone barely older than the triplets.”

“Wonder is a program, let’s treat them as such for now,” Gyro said. “We’ll run tests like I said, and go from there and see exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Fenton nodded, casting a glance over at Wonder’s computer. The icon was still dim. “Alright.”

---

“I like the color blue a lot. Any shade, really! I don’t think I could decide.”

“I think my favorite game is chess. Would you like to play a game later?”

“Oh lmao, no one at Waddle can code. How I’m functioning, I have no idea.”

“What does grass feel like? Is the sky really that color? How do apples taste?”

Fenton had gone and asked his questions the next day while Gyro ran his own set of diagnostics. Wonder answered each, but then started asking questions of their own. Gyro would have to admit that, while Fenton was a curious being, Wonder was that in spades. He supposed it was warranted, granted the limited life experience and the fact that they weren’t exactly able to have most of them either. He coughed into his hand, mid-explanation of the taste of spicy foods, and interrupted both.

“Well I’m done here,” he announced. “Diagnostics are good, as is everything else. I would like to run a mentality, speed and IQ test, just to test your servers.”

“That sounds fun!” Wonder chirped. “Fenton, afterwards if you’re not busy, would you like to play a game of chess?”

“Sure thing, Wonder,” Fenton replied, standing. “Gyro, do you need my assistance?”

“No. Go take care of something else, just not here,” Gyro replied curtly with a dismissive wave of his hand, taking Fenton’s seat in front of Wonder. Fenton nodded, and with a quick wave to Wonder, walked to another part of the lab. “Well, Wonder, where do you want to begin?”

“Speed please,” Wonder replied, quietly. Gyro rattled off a series of questions, searches, and what have you, with the program delivering results in seconds. He quickly analyzed the results.

“An average of 2 seconds per process, not bad.” He said. Wonder hummed in agreement. “Let’s go for IQ next.”

“I have a question first.” Wonder interjected. Gyro raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Why were you so rude to Fenton? It doesn’t seem very nice.”

Gyro had registered that Wonder had some sort of semblance of emotions for themself, but the fact that they were able to pick up on emotions and behaviors of other people was new, along with an idea of what “nice” and “rude” were, and they sounded upset by the behavior.

“I have had people tell me I’m not the best at interacting with others. I’m afraid that’s true, and I sometimes don’t realize it, and even worse I’m bad at giving credit and compliments when its due. I’m sorry if I made you feel upset, and besides, Fenton knows me unfortunately well at this point. It shouldn’t really affect him. But...I suppose that’s no excuse.”

Most it was parroted what he had been told over time, but knew to be true overall.

“Alright.”

“Just don’t follow me as an example, young-” Gyra began to scold, but paused. “Young...program? That doesn’t sound right.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Wonder chirped. “Maybe I should choose a set of pronouns. Hold on.”

They paused for a moment to go through a database. “I’ll use she/they. And I’m a girl, if gender identity is needed as well.”

“I’ll remember that,” Gyro said, noting it down on a piece of paper before continuing his scolding from earlier. “Don’t follow me as an example, young lady.”

Wonder hummed in agreement as Gyro cut away a few parts of the mentality test.

By the end of the day, Gyro pulled Fenton aside as Wonder synced all of her new information for processing and back-up.

“Okay, I hate to admit this, but you were right,” Gyro sighed, handing Fenton the results to go over. “Wonder is technically a child. In terms of IQ, behavior, and mentality, she is about 13 or 14. Emotionally, she’s still learning, but-”

“Wonder has a definite idea of their own personhood and self,” Fenton responded, quickly reviewing the results.

“Fenton, this is unprecedented! Lil Bulb notwithstanding, because I programmed everything into him. Wonder did most of the legwork herself,” Gyro snipped, taking the results back. “I don’t know what to do. I have no experience with kids! I am not prepared to even try and set a good example. Look at Lil Bulb!”

“What happened to Wonder just being a program?” Fenton quipped.”That’s gone out the window now, huh?”

“It’s in space now, honestly,” he replied, pinching the bridge of his beak. “I’m going to go file this in my databanks, so she’s free to play chess now. We’ll discuss how we’ll proceed with Wonder later.”

Fenton nodded with a grin, and walked around him, grabbing a chess board from a desk and Lil Bulb to move Wonder’s pieces, and disappearing into the lab. When he left for the evening patrol, Gyro took over and sat down for a game.

“I’ll warn you, I have never lost a game,” Gyro boasted. “So no hard feelings if you lose.”

“Neither have I!” Wonder replied. “This will be fun.”

Fenton returned to hours later to a stalemate, Gyro leaning over the board in concentration. Manny had a score board up on a chalkboard, reading that each of them had won twice and had to forfeit a game once. Lil Bulb was sitting on the edge of the table, swinging his legs, and Wonder was scrolling through images of mille feuilles on a bakery website. Not only was it startlingly normal for the lab, but Wonder had easily worked her way into the group. Fenton found himself grinning, especially when Gyro had a sudden “aha” moment and triumphantly moved a piece. Wonder refocused, scanning the board.

“Lil Bulb, move my Knight to B5, please,” she asked. After he did, she spoke up again. “Checkmate!”

Gyro straightened like a pin, staring between Wonder’s screen and the board. He looked half shocked and half insulted, and the look made Fenton chuckle behind a fist. Gyro stood, leaning over the board to get close to Wonder’s screen. “Best nine out ten!”

Wonder chirped joyfully. “Of course! Let’s go!”

“Having fun you guys?” Fenton asked, finally making his way over to the group proper as Gyro and Lil Bulb reset the board. Manny paused marking the board and waved at him, as did Lil Bulb, dropping the pieces they had. Gyro groaned, and bent down to get the them. “Here, I’ll get them.”

“No, you can-” Gyro felt a biting retort die on his tongue, remembering that Wonder was awake and learning from the lab how social interactions worked. “Lil Bulb and I can take care of it. I’m already on the floor.”

“Hello Fenton!” Wonder said. “How was your break? Do you want to join after the next four rounds?”

“It was interesting,” Fenton replied, pulling up a chair on Gyro’s side. He wasn’t about to tell her about him being Gizmoduck, not yet at least. “I’ll think I’ll watch for now.”

Wonder chirped happily in response. He laughed, sitting down next to Gyro as the pieces were reset on the table and the game began, occasionally whispering moves to Gyro. To Fenton’s surprise, Gyro actually used some of his suggestions, and without comment! As if the lab couldn’t get any odder, honestly, but it was nice.

“Checkmate!”

#ducktales oc #wonder #gyro gearloose #fenton crackshell-cabrera #ducktales ocs #ducktales #ducktales 17 #back at it again kids #manny the headless manhorse #lil bulb

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 5 years

Text

Their Hero Academia: Chapter 13

Raw and unedited (especially until I get Chapters 14-16 written to upload along with it), but I finished the 1st draft tonight and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. Especially with switching to some new protagonists. Chapters 0-12 can be found here:

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 13: Takuma Sero Makes a Show of It

If there was one thing Takuma Sero liked about living in the dorms, it was the sense of privacy. Sure, there were fifteen other people living in the dorms, three others on his floor, but compared to his home, that was nothing. Between his parents, his three younger brothers, and baby sister, there was always somebody trying to butt into whatever he was doing. At least on his floor, all he had was his best bro Kenta Sato. Daisuke Shoji simply kept his head down and Takiyo Aoyama had made it clear early on he had no interest in “whatever nonsense you two are getting up to.”

As if trying to become the next internet sensations was nonsense.

Which reminded him… he really ought to check their hit counter. With Kirishima-Bakugo out of the cafeteria yesterday, he’d actually been free to host a new round of “Will Sato Eat It?” without fear of being exploded or having her tear his arms off. He was actually pretty certain she wouldn’t do the last part. Their parents had been friends for decades and he was on reasonably good terms with her most of the time. But yesterday had been pretty impressive as far as the game went. Kenta had eaten a soup bowl, a baseball, a rock, and a tire that someone had somehow managed to get into the cafeteria.

Kenta’s dad had broken it up after that, with a threat to report their antics to Aizawa if they kept doing it. And Kenta had gotten a talking to from his dad later on about irresponsible Quirk use and making a spectacle of himself. At least the elder Sato had learned the futility of trying to rat them out to Takuma’s parents. His mom was one of the most Instagram-famous Pro-Heroes in the business. She actively encouraged his aspirations. His dad was just vaguely puzzled by the whole thing and just let his mom take the lead.

Checking the video upload, he found that the hit counter was already in the thousands. Wisely, he opted not to look at the comments. It was like his mom always said, “Never read the comments.” Sure, you got a validation high from some of it, but there were way too many trolls and mudslingers to make it worth it.

Takuma broke into a grin. “Yeah, we’re gonna be famous. Just you see. Heroes and entertainment sensations.”

He checked the time and found he still had nearly an hour before class. Plenty of time to finish getting ready. There was also the matter of homework he hadn’t quite completed, but he could probably copy the answers from somebody, at least enough to squeak by. Math was going to be the death of him. He understood numbers well enough, but once you started getting letters involved with numbers, his brain just refused to track any of it. It had nearly sunk his entrance exam score, but he’d managed to just barely pass that. A good practical exam score had done wonders for making up the difference.

Twenty minutes later, he was out of his room and ready to go. He did not have the world’s most developed fashion sense (much to the regret of Kimiko Ojiro, his other best friend, who had declared him “the worst gay best friend ever”), but he had an entertainer’s sense for showmanship in his appearance. He spotted Kenta coming out of his room and gave him a double finger guns.

“Sixty-five hundred hits in less than twenty-four hours, my man!”

“All right!” Kenta said, giving him a fist bump. “That’s twice as many as the last video!” He let out a burp and clutched his stomach.

“You okay, man?” Takuma asked.

Kenta shook his head and burped again. “Heartburn and indigestion. Dad says just because I can get anything doesn’t mean I should.” He grinned, thick lips pulling back to reveal his perfectly white teeth. “But I say it’s a small price to pay for being famous.”

“More famous in your case,” Takuma told him. Kenta was already a good bit famous from all the times he appeared in pictures and his stories on his father’s “Food and Family” blog. According to his mom, it was crazy popular with single moms.

Kenta waved it off. “That’s really Dad’s thing. This is ours!”

Takuma was about to begin discussions of the plans for their next video when he was distracted by the sight of Daisuke Shoji walking back to his rooms, clearly having come from the showers. The six-armed boy was only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, his silver hair still damp, and a small about of moisture still visible on the muscles of his arms and abs. He nodded politely to Takuma and Kenta on his way back to his room. Takuma kept watching until Shoji’s door closed.

His trace was broken by Kenta giving him a small shove. “You okay there, bud? Kind of went away for a little while?”

He sighed. “Why are the hot ones always straight?”

Kenta gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Hey, there’s lots of other guys at U.A. You’ll find somebody. Or you could always try online dating?”

Takuma made a face. “I’m not that desperate.”

Anything further was interrupted by his and Kenta’s phones buzzing. Both checked and he saw they had identical texts from the school’s emergency alert system.

Homeroom has been cancelled. All first-year students should report to the Gran Torino Memorial Auditorium at 0800.

Kenta gave him a curious look.

“Don’t look at me, man,” he said quickly. “I haven’t broken any rules that would cause a grade level assembly.”

“This school year,” Kenta said. “I still can’t believe the time you…”

“Don’t remind me. I’m still barely out of being grounded for that.”

“I think that was the first time I ever actually saw your parents punish you.”

“Oh, would you look at the time, we should really be getting to the Auditorium!”

***

“Any idea what this is about, Takuma?” Kimiko asked. He assumed she was looking at him, but honestly, even after having known her all his life, it was hard to tell.

He shook his head. “Beats the heck out of me.”

All around, the other seats in the Auditorium were filling up with the first year students. There were the three Heroics classes, three General Ed classes, three Support classes, and three Business and Management classes. Sixteen students each in the Heroics, twenty in each of the others, for one hundred eight students total left the auditorium about half full.

Down on the stage, he could see the majority of the teaching staff. There were the three Heroics Homeroom teachers, Aizawa, Super Ball, and Battle Fist. There was Power Loader, the aging director of the Support courses. Word around campus was that he was considering retirement after experiencing the Iida Twins. And there was FireFox, their math teacher; Hawkeye, their English teacher; Figure Sk8, the dark-haired daughter of the Twins and Izumi’s uncle and aunt, who taught their Science classes; Palette, the paint-themed Art History teacher; and Hopper, Tokoyami’s uncle and their Literature teacher. There Hound Dog, the school counselor, Vice-Principal Midnight, and even Kenta’s dad. He also spotted Doctor Izumi sitting with her husband, Kota, the Rescue Hero and Rescue Instructor called Water Spout (or, at his mom embarrassingly always referred to him, “the first man to see me naked”) There was also All Might, and several teachers he didn’t know, who he presumed taught some of the classes taken by the other courses. Whatever this was about, they were taking it very seriously.

And slowly approaching the podium, leaning heavily on his cane, was Principal Nezu. Takuma wasn’t sure if he was a rat or a bear or possibly some kind of creature from Australia (or was it Austria? Whichever one had the kangaroos. Those were real, right?), but he understood that the old animal was crazy smart. He’d guided U.A. through some of its roughest years and managed to still come out on top.

“I am sorry to interrupt your usual class schedule,” Nezu began. “I know your studies are of great importance to you all. But after the events of the last few days, both here at our school and elsewhere, we have been made aware of events which you all deserve to know. The Center for Quirk Research is expected to make a statement later this morning, but we thought it might be best if comes from us.”

He took in a breath and continued. “The CQR has discovered, working in conjunction with several Pro-Heroes, the existence of a virus which causes the victim to lose control of their Quirk. It appears the Quirk is… man made.”

Any side conversations that had been going on were immediately silenced.

Nezu went on. “After an as yet unknown incubation period, it causes a power-flare up during which time the user’s Quirk will activate out of their control. This lack of control appears to last an indefinite amount of time, but appears to be a onetime flare up. Unfortunately, even as the number of cases are growing, information is scarce. There appear to be no obvious early symptoms and we are unsure how the virus is being transmitted. At this time, it appears that only Emitter and Transformation type Quirks are effected.”

A ripple went through the crowd as the full impact of the Principal’s statement took effect. Anything that could do that is dangerous indeed. From the time they were young, they’d always been taught about the importance of controlling their Quirks. And now something could just take that away…

“That’s… that’s not good,” Takuma said. Absently, he rubbed the patches on his right hand where his Acid Tape came from. His Quirk was technically a Mutation type, since he had slightly different physical structures to allow for it. But his mom was an Emitter type, so were many of his friends. So were a lot of people out there in the world. And there were lots of people out there with really powerful Quirks. What if somebody like Ground Zero or Deku caught this thing?

“We’re… we’re okay,” he heard Kimiko say. “Not… not like I can get more invisible.”

“Hey,” Kenta said, “it’s gonna be okay. People’re smart. They’ll get this figured out.” Kenta’s dad was an Emitter type too, he recalled, even if Kenta’s own Quirk was a very minor Mutant type.

Nezu continued, “We are able to run tests for the virus and will be doing screening following this assembly. However, as there are no tell-tale symptoms prior to manifestation, we urge you to talk to your teachers or Doctor Izumi should you have any concerns. We will be doing everything we can to protect you, which includes providing you as with much of your usual structure as possible. Classes, including Heroics courses, will continue as normal. Rest assured, everyone is doing everything they can to get to the bottom of this. But at this point, cases are isolated and sporadic. We advise caution, but there is no need to panic.”

Takuma made it a point to never take life seriously. But for once, that didn’t seem like such a good idea.

***

“You heard what the Principal said,” Aizawa said, after they had returned to the classroom. “The moment you feel anything out of the ordinary or even suspect that something might be wrong, I expect you to tell me or another teacher. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mister Aizawa,” the class said, nearly as one.

“Good,” Aizawa said. “Now, we are going to proceed as normally as possible. Which means we have a little bit of business to settle. Choose a class representative. I don’t care how.” He zipped himself into his sleeping bag and disappeared behind his desk.

“Well,” Midoriya said, “I think we should probably vote on it?”

“I vote Toshi!” Shota Shinso cried out.

“Toshi,” Asuka Tokoyami agreed.

“I’ve got to go with Midoriya too,” Isamu Haimawari said.

“Toshi has my vote as well,” Izumi Todoroki added.

“Guys… Shouldn’t this be a secret ballot?” Midoriya asked quickly.

“Too late now,” Takuma said. “Besides, I think we all know you’re gonna win it.”

As much as he loved the spotlight, he loathed responsibility. Better Midoriya than him any day. Besides, it would take away from his own pursuits. And Midoriya really was good at taking charge and helping people who needed it. Guy wanted to help the whole world, even more than the average Hero-in-Training.

“Personally, I think moi would be best,” Takiyo Aoyama said.

“Oh, give it up, Frenchie,” Mika Mineta told him. “Midoriya’s definitely the best shot at this.”

“I fear I must agree with the rest,” Akaya Koda told Aoyama. She really seemed to be one of the few people who could stand the arrogant blond for more than a few minutes. She must have had the patience of a saint.

“Going with Midoriya here too,” Kenta said.

“Yep, me too,” Chihiro Kaminari added. “And Tokoyami for vice-rep while we’re at it.”

“I like those ideas!” Kimiko said. “Both of them!”

“Makes sense to me,” Shoji said.

“This is highly against protocol,” Tensei Iida said. “But I cannot argue with the consensus either.”

“My younger brother is correct,” Sora Iida said. “I agree with the conclusions drawn.”

“You really must stop using that qualifier! I am only younger by three minutes!”

“It is scientifically accurate! Do you dispute this?”

“It is needlessly semantic, and yet I cannot argue with the precision!”

“If I agree, will it shut them up?” Katsumi Kirishima-Bakugo asked.

Motion was carried. Midoriya and Tokoyami were their class reps.

Takuma belatedly realized that probably gave them some kind of power of his and Kenta’s antics, but that was their problem, not his. Besides, it was worth it to see Aoyama pout.

***

“Hua-whah!” Even though Takuma had practiced swinging from building to building by using his Acid Tape many times with his dad, doing it always made him feel like his stomach was going to flop out of his mouth. It didn’t help that his Quirk was more complicated than his dad’s. The elder Sero only had to think about shooting out his Tape until it hit something. Takuma’s Acid Tape meant that he had to be continually concentrating both on dispensing more tape and on maintaining the properties. Since he could make it anything from slick to sticky to acidic, that meant he had to do a lot more concentrating. And doing that while ten stories up made it all the more problematic.

Even if it was supposed to be a simple Heroics exercise in cityscape navigation. All they had to do was make it from one end of the faux-cityscape as quickly as they could. For quite a few, like Kimiko, Kenta, or Koda, there wasn’t much more they could do than run as fast as they could. Others were doing a much more impressive job. Midoriya was bouncing with leaps that were easily carrying him, the Iida Twins were blasting through the air, and Haimawari was zipping through the streets. And somehow, Kirishima-Bakugo had gotten herself up on the rooftops and was parkouring herself through the course.

Takuma let himself go flying through the air for a moment, before shooting out another strand of Acid Tape. It stuck to the fire escape and as he began to swing, he could feel something go wrong. With a sickening sound of tearing metal, the piece of the fire escape he had snagged with his tape snapped and broke, sending him falling!

He shot out another strand of Acid Tape, trying to save himself, but instead of snagging a lower portion of the fire escape, it melted right through it. He’d made it too acidic! He was gonna die! He was never gonna reach a million followers! Involuntarily, he felt his eyes close.

And just as suddenly, powerful arms caught him and he was rising. So he was dead then, and the angels were carrying him away. Good-bye world, he only regretted that he not let more of you gaze upon his awesomeness…

“Are you all right, Sero?” a voice asked. “I was afraid I would not be able to match your falling speed without causing you injury, but I believe I was able to calculate something close enough…”

An angel who apparently sounded just like Tensei Iida. He chanced opening his eyes and the first thing he saw was himself, reflected in the chest plate of Iida’s costume. Looking up, he saw a silver helmet. Definitely Iida. Which meant he wasn’t dead? He was alive! He could still get that million followers!

“Sero?” Iida repeated. “Are you all right?” He slowly started reducing power in his jets, letting them drift downward.

Oh, right. He needed to answer his rescuing angel’s questions. “Oh, ah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, finding himself stumbling over his words. “You really saved my ass, there, Iida. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Iida said. “As your friend and classmate, not to mention as an aspiring Hero, it is my duty.”

“Well, right now, you’re my hero, Iida.”

Inwardly, he groaned. Was he really saying something that stupid? Apparently, he was. At least Kimiko and Kenta weren’t there to hear it. They’d never let him hear the end of it.

***

The Iida Twins could be found in the Common Room, pouring over blueprints. Usually, the Twins spent whatever free time they had in the Support Workshop, but according to Sora, Power Loader had kicked them out under out under threat of unspecified punishment, all because they had “accidentally used too much power and caused a few small explosions and fires.” So the two had returned to the dorms instead to work on what they could.

Takuma, Kenta, and Kimiko peered from around the corner at them.

“This is a really dumb idea,” Takuma said. “And I know all about dumb ideas.”

“If you were doing this for me,” Kenta said, “you’d be making your “good idea” face. The one that always means it’s something that’s going to get us in trouble.”

“Besides,” Kimiko said, “this is for romance! We’ve got to! You’re cute, he’s hot, you’re pink, he’s got pink hair, I’m gonna call you Pinky-Squared!”

“We don’t even know if he likes guys! He could be into girls! Or machines! I’m gonna make a fool of myself!”

Kimiko slapped him upside the head. “That’s loser talk!”

“You want us to film it?” Kenta asked. “You’re good in front of a camera.”

Takuma went a paler shade of pink. “…No. Definitely not. I do not need this preserved for posterity if it all goes south.”

“Look, this is the most romantic thing to happen since school started,” Kimiko told him. “So you are not chickening out now! Kenta and I are going to get Sora out of the room and you are going to ask Tensei out! Do you understand!?”

How someone whose face he couldn’t see could have such an intense glare, he didn’t know, but her tone suggested that there was no arguing with her.

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s do this!”

***

I can’t do this!

With Sora out of the room (he was so stressed he literally could not remember what excuse Kenta and Kimiko had used to get her out of there and he had seen it literally seconds ago), Takuma was free to make his move. His smooth move. His ever so smooth move. He was the king of smooth.

He was not smooth.

As casually as he could, he approached the table where Tensei was still working. “Oh, ah, hey, Iida,” he said. “Ah, thanks again for saving me like that. Pretty sure I was on my way to being a pile of pink goo.”

“The fall was not nearly enough to reduce you to goo,” Iida said, looking up from his blueprints. “But it would have been very messy all the same. I am happy I was able to prevent that.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, well, either way, I appreciate it.” He frowned, trying to think of how best to proceed. “So, uh, what are you working on?”

A very crazed (and very attractive) grin spread its way across Tensei’s face. “Modifications to Sora’s and my Hero costumes. After training yesterday, we came up with several potential ideas to improve performance and work with our Quirks, such as a more adjustable wing system and potential storage for emergency supplies of apple and grape juice.”

“And that exploded?”

“Oh, no,” Iida said. “That was the idea for a capture-weapon to add as an additional support item. We may have made the propulsion element a little too strong. Power Loader apparently believed that we would benefit from some time away. But I do not see how we can improve our designs to their fullest without practical, hands on work. And we cannot do that if we are banned from the workshop for a week.”

“That sucks, man,” Takuma agreed. It’d be like someone telling him he couldn’t upload stuff to the ‘net. A guy had to have a passion, after all. “But, ah, I guess that means you’re gonna have some free time?”

Iida frowned. “Unfortunately, yes. There is only so much we can do without the space to put theory into practice.”

Okay, it was now or never. He could be brave! He had this!

…He didn’t have this!

He had this!

He didn’t have this!

He had this!

“So, um…,” he said, “if you’re gonna have the free time… maybe you’dlikespendingsomeofitwithmesomewhere?”

Iida blinked. “I… don’t think I caught that, Sero.”

He took a deep breath. “I was thinking, if you were gonna have free time anyway… maybe you’d want to spend some of it with me? Somewhere? Like a date?”

Iida’s eyes widened in surprise and for once, it looked like he was at a loss for words. “I… I would like that very much, Sero.”

He had this!

#their hero academia #my hero academia #fan fic #My writing #fan fiction

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