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saturnsstufff · 3 years

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The Empress (pt.IV)

Mmm. Blood for blood god, yes?

Warnings: mentions of abuse, poison, death, swearing

The palace was a bit busier after the evening you announced your new employment. After the servants herd there would be a trip, they were mostly preparing for Techno’s, and Phil’s leave. Two days weren't much to you, but to Techno and Phil? They were busy days. Techno ended up stealing Phil from your side during those days, so instead you spent your time with Wilbur.

Wilbur was a brilliant child. For being twelve he already had a large understanding of how their kingdom worked. Not only that, but when questioned he could also tell you about other countries and nations. He didn't play up his intelligent, but he also didn't dismiss what he knew.

Tomorrow was the day that Techno, Phil and you had planned to leave on. Phil did walk you to breakfast that morning, but Techno and Phil didn't waist time eating. They mostly hurried through, leaving little room for conversation, then left to Techno’s study. Leaving you and Wil alone for the day again. You didn't mind that though, yesterday you spent your time lingering over his shoulder well he did his studies. The studies, though sounding boring at first were actually pretty interesting. You had a education, however, the one you received was very basic. You were taught to read, write, and even shown basic math, but beyond that you weren't pressured to learn more. No one in your village was. This wasn't because your village viewed education less to survival. But mostly because your village was tiny, there were no great scholars. Most children were taught by there parents, like you, your mother taught you everything. Where Wilbur, at twelve was learning about different potion ingredients and there properties. You at the same age had just finished basic fractions. But that was ok, education wasn't something to compare, everyone learns differently and at different speeds.

Well you maneuvered around the casual tables, bookshelves and sofas, he responded. “Oh! well, you see, Phil wants all of his kids to be respectful, especially to women” you nodded, ’most parents prefer that.’ you mused to yourself. The two of you walked through the library to a room in the back. This is where Wil did his studies. It was just a private room, mostly made so no one could disturb the individual reading inside. “Our mother, she was really kind- you would have liked her- and her most defiantly would have liked you” He was just loosely rambling off, but it was adorable, he had a bright smile. Well you listened, something told you, not many people sat and talked with him. “When Phil met our mother he always told us of how poor her home life was, she wasn't treated very nicely, you see.” Wil took the door to the study and opened it for you two. Both of you moseying inside, side by side. When you two found the sofa you sat down easy, mostly having to readjust after. Unlike you Wil half threw himself onto it with a little squeak of the cushion. “When Dad found out mother was carrying me, he quickly took her away from her home. Anytime he mentioned her parents you could have sworn he wanted to kill them. Dadza doesn't get mad, but when he does... it’s not exactly pleasant.” Wil had swallowed a bit thickly at that last comment. Letting it linger in the air.

You walked with Wil towards the Library, the hall’s were a tad chillier due to the fact the sun wasn't out today. In its place was just grey clouds, offering more snow to the already maxed out ice cube you stood on. When you took the handle to open the door for Wil, he took it from your hand quickly. After grabbing it, he stumbled into profusely apologizing for his spur of the moment behavior.

“So sorry (y/n), it’s just, if Dadza caught me slacking on my manners... He wouldn't be too pleased.” You tilted your head slightly as he opened the door fully. Exposing the Ancient Book lined walls. The stale smell of paper, parchment, and the occasional ink hit you. The library was rather large, but then again, most things within this palace tended to be. The library did have a warmth to it, and a welcoming feeling. The type where if your not careful, you could get lost inside for hours at a time. In the corner rested a larger than normal fireplace, The attached Chimney ran to the celling, lined With thick Rocks and stones. The crackling and popping of the wood burning within was a very comforting white noise.

“this might seem off, but, what manners?” they way you said it may have sounded wrong, but you meant it in the best way you could. Or more the less for him to expand on the manners he was talking about.

“I'm not sure if I can ask, but, Techno looks older than you, did... He live with your mother when she was with her parents?” Wil shifted to face you a bit more. Putting his heel up on his knee. well he rested his elbow on the arm of the couch, he moved his head to rest in his hand.

“No, Techno was adopted. When dad was in the Nether he raided a lost fortress. from what he explained, there was just a toddler roaming around.” Your heart clenched slightly, you couldn't imagine leaving a toddler alone, none the less in a place like the nether. you have never been there, but the stories you’ve herd were enough to tell you the danger. “Since he’s a hybrid of a Piglin Brute and human, none of the other Piglins would touch him. So Dadza did, as Dadza does. he took him home.”

You thought back on this a moment. Techno had a godlike amount of strength, not to mention how tall he was. Of course he was a Hybrid. You felt a bit stupid now for not picking it up. “Just, don't tell Techno I told you, he doesn't like his name being discussed behind his back” You nodded. Wilbur’s face grew into a smile. “This can be our secret” you nodded and smiled back.

“our secret” The more you talked to Wil, you discovered he was a lot like Philza. The two had the most contagious smile you’d ever seen. The only difference you assumed was he had his mother's features. Phil had bright keen blue eyes, well Wilbur had deep beautiful brown eyes. Another difference was there facial structure. You two were quiet a moment before you spoke up. You had been curious of where their mother was, there were paintings of her. But she was no where around. The way Wil talked about her made you assume she had passed. “what happened to your mother?”

Wilbur’s eyes saddened briefly before he- what you assumed- forced himself to contain. “Oh, well... Phil and Mom had a dinner one night with some other world leaders.” he paused a bit rubbing his neck. “It was supposed to be peaceful. but someone from the German Empire didn't want us to be allies. so he poisoned our mother’s food.” He started slowing down with the story as he went on. “Like you said with your father (y/n), you were too young to understand? That's how it was for me. I was only four. I didn't understand why Techno and Dad were so angry.” he wiped his eyes as they welled up, one eye let a tear fall. “They didn't keep me in the room long. As soon as mom started choking, they started yelling. One of our allies’, his wife, had taken me out of the room before it had escalated any further.”

Your heart fell heavy, a pit forming in your stomach. you couldn't empathize with loosing a parent. especially at such a young age like that. You could easily tell Wil wasn't over his mothers death. The way he looked at the ground with such hurt, it genuinely pained you so see the happy boy like this. You moved yourself closer to his side and hugged him tightly, showing him the reassurance he needed. You didn't respond for a little bit. letting Wil express what emotions he had possibly bottled up. After a bit when you felt him pull back, you just kept your arm around his shoulder. You weren't his family. but you hoped that for what company you offered, it made him feel at least a bit better. “I'm sorry Wilbur…” was all you could muster. The atmosphere weighed heavier now. With the sadness of pressed memories lingering, the two of you didn't talk. instead you simply sat in silence.

“So what’s France like?” you asked curiously, taking a bite of your mashed potatoes.

By dinner that evening Wilbur and you had already promised each other that you wouldn't speak of what happened in the studies. He didn't want Techno on his back for opening up, or that he also cried a bit. You were ok with keeping it between you two, Wilbur had confided in you something very personal, the least you could do was respect his wishes.

Dinner had gone by smoothly, the chatter between Wilbur and you had picked up quite a lot. You could tell this made Phil happy to see the two of you getting along. Especially since you now technically live with them. When you first arrived to the palace, dinner’s were kind of awkward, since only Phil and you really talked. But now it seemed that Techno was the only one that wouldn't partake in the conversations. He would put a word or two in. But mostly dinners were spent with Wil and you talking about whatever came to mind.

Wil was hurrying to swallow to try and respond. “Oh! you’d love it there (y/n)!” Phil slightly chuckled at Wil. “Its really scenic!” Before Wil could ramble off about France and it’s perks, Phil had chimed in.

“It is a beautiful place, but were not going to any specific places. were only going to the countryside's. We know that much” Wil and you cocked your head’s slightly. ‘what’s out in the country side?’ You mentally questioned, but Wil instead asked it aloud.

“Not that the countryside isn't beautiful- why not stop by the towns?” Wil questioned, his brow furrowed. waving his fork between Techno and Phil for his answer.

“The cities don't have what I need” Techno said plainly, at that Wilbur shot back with a remark.

“mmn, like a girlfriend?” you couldn't help but laugh at the way Techno turned to face Wilbur. Since he still eats with his mask. you could only see his lips, to which Techno made a ‘heh?’ before he compiled his answer fully.

“Keep it up I’ll take you to France and punt you out of my plane.” Phil laughed with you on that one. Although Techno was pretty stoic and monotone, over the last couple of days lately he’s been showing more of his ‘Brotherly love’ as Phil call’s it. you had a feeling that Techno and Phil were going to miss Wilbur during there trip. or, at least you would for sure. After Wilbur laughed a bit he got serious again.

“But really, what are you looking for. there’s not many things in the countryside besides the occasional mansion or farm. Kind of boring if you ask me” Techno hummed in response. Appearing like he was aware of what was in the country already. Since Wil couldn't work a answer out of Techno he simply dropped the subject, viewing it no longer worth the push. Instead he started back on his steak, Phil picking up the conversation.

“Those new clothes should be in your room tonight, (y/n)” you looked up and swallowed your mouthful. nodding before you answered.

“mhn! oh! right, thank you again for them. Are you sure my old pair wouldn't cut it? I’d hate to ruin a new pair of clothes on a side trip” Phil waved his hand in response, as if waving away your worry.

“awh, I wouldn't worry to much on it. Besides, now that you work for us, you have to be official n’ shit” He grinned at you. “Besides, your clothes were nice for your village, but France and Russia have a bit different climates.” You nodded casually. The idea of visiting new places had you a bit giddy. Yes, you missed your home, but being with the royal family so far has been utterly pleasant.

“do you have a certain time you would like to leave?” you questioned, your eyes dancing between Techno and Phil for your answer. Techno didn't look up from his food, expecting Phil to answer for him.

“we’ll probably just end up sending a servant to wake you up. We don't have a specific time yet, but we know it will probably be early. Mostly so we can reach land on time. Techno has the map’s ready for tomorrow with the stops marked. fuel n’ stuff will probably draw us back time wise.” Phil poked at his food well he talked, moving a bit of the food to a nice size bite. “We don't have a designated time we have to return. But we also don't want to be gone from the palace long.” you tilted your head a bit, looking to Phil.

“why don't you want to be gone long?” You assumed it was because they liked being in the comfort of their own home, but you also had a feeling it was something beyond that. Phil’s brow had came together in a bit of... frustration?

“we cant be gone long because the Governor's get antsy..." this was the first time you herd Phil's voice drop. It wasn't his casual light hearted tone, instead it was replaced with a deep, meaningful, yet precise tone. He knew what he wanted to say, and he knew exactly what he had to say. "We can't take Wilbur with us since he’s too young. It's also best to have someone to look over the palace in our absence."

You set your fork down as you finished your plate. Mimicking how techno piled his plates. "Why do they get antsy?" You couldn't help your curiosity on this matter. ‘Did the Governor's not like them gone?’

"Because they feel Wilbur is more fit to Rule. It's utter bullshit" Phil had a lot of pressed emotion on that topic. You could tell just from how he now handled and moved his fork. Usually he had a easy grip, loose moving it about his plate. But now his knuckles were a tad white, and his grip was much more secure. "Don't mistake my words, Wilbur could rule. He'd be a bloody brilliant king too. But Techno is my oldest son. The crown falls to him. Plain and simple. But They think, that because Techno isn't my blood, that it doesn't count." His words started becoming sharper and more hateful. He dropped his fork on his plate at this point out of anger. Even Techno who never moves his head much, Or talk for that matter, had moved his head to face Phil. Techno addressed his father.

"Dadza..." you were a bit shocked, his tone wasn't as monotone. His voice showed his concern, or maybe his understanding. Phil only looked at his plate before he looked up with a breath.

"I cant leave Wil because they pressure him. They pressure him into the thought of marriage with his best friend, into dethroning techno, last time the fucker's brought up killin’ tech and I" Phil leaned back in his chair a bit.

Phil sighed again. Looking up at Wilbur with kind eyes, the hate from his previous thoughts wiped free. "I hate leaving him with that much pressure. He's only twelve".

After the dinner everyone slowly retired to their rooms. Techno had stolen Phil again for some last minute run by plans, so in his stead Wilbur walked you to your room. You both didn't Talk long however, you both were aware that you would be up early the next day. Oh yeah, you were definitely up early. The sun hadn't rose yet and you were already being shaken awake by one of the maids. Telling you that Techno and Phil were patiently waiting. you hurried to change not wanting to leave them waiting any longer.

When you saw them in the hall you had just thrown your cloak and cape over your shoulders. The new attire Phil had made for you was just mostly more layers. This way if you got warm you could shed a few, or vise versa when you were cold.

“I'm so sorry I kept you waiting-” you stopped mid sentence you couldn't believe what you saw. If anyone could have seen your face, they may have assumed you had witnessed a murder for the way your jaw hung open.

There stood Techno in front of you, Phil by his side. But that's not what had your mouth open. Techno’s mask was long discarded, and by the gods was he good looking. Maybe not in the typical sense of beauty standards, but to you he was ethereal. He had scars, yes, but that only added to him. Maybe if he didn't have the scars he would have blown the beauty standard of Handsome, but speaking for yourself you prefer him with the scars. You definitely prefer the scars. There was a small scar over his lip. Then one larger one across his brow bone that dragged down to his cheek. From how the larger one appeared, you could only assume how long it took for it to heal. His eyes were delicate, but they danced ablaze. they were brown, but almost borderline red tinted. Without his mask you could see that he had a rather soft, natural appearance. He was young, younger than you assumed. He looked only about seventeen. The way he was dressed made him look like a casual, young gentleman you would have found on the street. you almost couldn't believe he was the feared Emperor. He must have noticed your lingering eyes, because his lips moved into the ever slightest bemused smirk. When you saw his expression you couldn't help the heat that flushed your cheeks. Worst of all is you could feel your heated cheeks, and that just made you redder from embarrassment. If this was how the trip was going to start, you were in for a long bumpy ride.

“Hello, princess” was all he said. He was purposefully poking at you now. He just learned he had a big effect on you, and oh boy was he ready to torment you with it. You could only avert your eyes, you had nothing to say against that. You didn't even know where to begin with it all. it took you a moment to process. Phil still stood beside Techno, his hand rubbed at his mouth a bit to muffle the chuckle he had.

“w...where’s your skull?... a-aren’t you traveling with it?” oh great, yeah your voice definitely, wasn't taking your side on trying to compose yourself. Techno hummed, he was really amused now.

“Hm? Here I thought you would have preferred this... what a shame, I even shaved.” techno ran his large but delicate hand over his jaw and neck, the rings on his fingers stuck out against his skin. Phil laughed vocally now. The little shit was enjoying this. techno adjusted his stance and crossed his arms. He just held a bemused smirk, oh you so wished nothing more than to rub it off. You didn't care if he was a royal, if you thought you could take him, you would have.

“Ok techno, that's enough, don't want her too red now. she might try and off ya’” Oh don't worry Phil you already thought about it. “don't worry about making us wait either kiddo, we had to get a few things ready anyway” you looked up at Phil as your cheeks finally started to return to normal.

“What were you getting?” you inquired, your brows slightly furrowed.

“This” Techno said, offering a sheath to you. You looked up to him and back down to it. It was a sword, not the one you made, but a different one. “We cant have you defenseless on your trip with us” You hesitated. you knew this was the wrong time to admit that you didn't know how to fight with a sword. You gently took it, parting the blade from its sheath to look it over. It was well made that's for sure, basic Iron, but still strong.

“Your Imperial Majesty...” you were thankful for the sword but, again. you didn't know how to use it. you made them, but you were never taught on how to use one. Your mother forbid it, saying that you already took a man’s trade, there was no need for you to dirty yourself further down the path. “I... I cant...” Techno’s brow lifted in question. “I... d-don't know how to use it...” You felt shame take over you. Fully prepared for them to laugh at you. Instead Phil offered you a slightly surprised look. Techno only made a ‘Heh?’.

“You don't know how to use a sword?” you could only shake your head, looking down slowly. Phil placed his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, moving his head down so he could face you. “Hey... Hey, your ok... Tell ya’ what. Well were out on the trip, we’ll show you ok? It’s still good to carry a sword, just incase things go side-ways. But I promise we’ll make sure you don't have to use it then, ok?” you nodded slowly.

“O-ok, I'm still sorry...” Phil only shook his head, explaining you had nothing to be sorry for. He gently took the sword from you and put it back in it’s case. He told you to lift your arm’s, so that's what you did. He easily maneuvered the belt around your waist and secured the sword your hip. Almost like he would have done to his own kids. The weight of it would have to be something to get used to, but you were thankful that they were not mad or disappointed in you.

The three of you walked to where all the planes were kept. this is where Phil offered you a choice. “Would you like to ride with Techno or I?” Oh, so you had to pick. You gave them a brief blank look.

“I figured I would be riding with you, Phil” You did assume you were just going to ride with him, but you also didnt want to be with techno if he was strickly in a teasing mood. Phil only smiled and nodded.

“Alright’ lets get going then” was all he said. Techno walked passed you and Phil. Making his way over to his plane, there was a heavier cloak waiting on the wing. Techno’s plane was different from the other ones, not physically. His had a crown on the side along with the signa, probably to shownit was the Rulers. He effortlessly threw the heavy cloak over his shoulder and stepped up on the wing. His arm reaching out to pull himself up. jumping into the cockpit easily.

Phil handed you a similar cloak. “it’s colder right now due to the sun being down. you will definitely want this.” you nodded and took it with a ‘thank you’. well you put it on Phil had stepped up onto the wing. pulling his cloak on. He offered his hand down again like he did the last time you flew. His wings were spread out behind him, enjoying the freedom they had before they would be confined. when you took his hand he pulled you up effortlessly. letting you steady yourself before he lifted you up to the cockpit, assisting you in. when you were all situated the planes roared to life. Techno faced Phil and sent a nod. A wordless que. Phil sent a nod back before they both started moving together. Soon before you knew it, you were back in the air heading home.

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#techno x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade x reader #TE

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spacetimewraithwrites-archive · 2 years

Text

Find the Word Tag Game

(Double Feature/ROY G BIV Game)

tagged by: @sylvar-writes-fantasy & @druidx!! my words: hunt, freedom, trust, hate, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet tagging: @sleepyowlwrites, @drabbleitout, @drippingmoon, @ashen-crest, @zmwrites, @athenswrites, anyone who wants to, and the Sims 2 for being, arguably, the superior Sims game. your words: danger, dry, dive, dare, drive, dust AND/OR ROY G BIV

hunt search (Rebirth)—

"You good?"

[Warren] glanced at the man helping himself to the chair across the table and nodded. "Yeah, I’m..." He did a double-take.

He almost didn't recognize him—he wore smoky kohl blended into a rainbow of neon eyeshadow that amplified the clear blue of his eyes, and the three rows of tight braids on each side of his head. The rest of his sable hair had been teased into a pretty bouffant mohawk, and he had a scar that looked to have been old yet never fully healed, shaped like an upside-down triangle on his right temple.

The man was definitely Guetry Sympa. It was hard to miss the same mischievous air around his calm expression that existed in his dossier photo.

Those clear blue eyes looked a bit shifty as he settled into the chair and searched the surrounding atrium crowd for something. He placed his hands on his crossed legs with elegance he otherwise did not possess. His nails were, surprisingly, chewed down to the quick. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Warren noted the silver cigarette perched between two of Guetry's fingers and the long black coat with a high collar that made him look like a hitman from a movie. "I'll be fine."

freedom (Rebirth)—

"They're impressed," Thrive said, moving to the comm. "Camps all over Voka are following the lead of the Ogsh Mines, rioting and reclaiming their rightful territory and their freedom."

"Those two graha are still in the engine room," Alec said. "Where are we taking them?"

"I've actually just gotten off a call with the sanctuary a few moments ago."

"Heredes," Varussa said. "One of ours."

"I have visited before," Osillo mused. "Full of beauty and serenity the graha normally would not understand."

Thrive allowed himself a quick and curious silence. "They will now."

trust (Meridian)—

Warren glanced up from the floor of Thrive's Leviathan office, tablet laid out on his lap with his comm device in hand, tilting the screens away from the door. He'd been scheduling and taking notes for Thrive's percolating rebellion, and they wanted to keep track of who they could trust out of their friends and contacts so they could know who would be on their side.

Atoa didn't even notice the devices. He bowed low at the door. "You've received a call from the Consortium."

Warren rolled his eyes.

"What did they want?" Thrive asked from the desk.

"Veneve's star is showing signs of an impending supernova, sir."

Thrive moved around to Warren's line of sight. "...That would be infinitely worse than what's happened to Efthim."

"What? Why?" Warren looked at him, instantly realizing why. "Oh, shit...Veneve Ten."

"Should that star die," Thrive explained anyway, "it will destroy Veneve Ten, which could spread its radiation throughout a large portion of the galaxy."

hate (Rebirth)—

"Fuckin' ouch," Guetry said lightly. He visibly steeled himself as Alec barrelled through the crowd to grab him in a tight hug. "Girl, my ribs…!"

"Stupid bitch," she cried. "I hate you so much."

Guetry nodded into her shoulder. His eyes reddened and Warren could see the strength he mustered to keep his lip from quivering. "Yeah, I know."

She held on for a while before wiping a tear from her own cheek and pulling back. She booped him on the nose. "I'll keep your beat guitar warm for you."

Guetry inhaled deeply. "Thanks."

Alec sank back into the group and Guetry turned to Warren, who didn't realize until then that he was biting his cheek hard to avoid an overshow of emotions.

"I love you, Cougar. Since day one."

Warren snorted. "You're so gross." He sniffed heartily. "...But I love you too, man."

red (Aurora)—

Warren glanced around at everyone, and then at the nebula. At its crimson gaseous clouds. So red...so angry...and it crawled up the back of his neck like a spider. The sheer magnitude of the nebula, the arrogance of Torris being a rogue planet, the nerve of the Emmuli to think the universe belonged to it. The nerve of an entity dominating life to such a degree. How utterly fucking dare it.

He'd lost everything. He'd lost everything.

A black mist gathered from a shadow in the corner of the room and Warren snatched the rifle from Emnophene's hands, unloading the clip into the vaguely bipedal form until it disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

"Fuck you!" He shouted in the ensuing silence.

Guetry turned a pair of exasperated eyes onto the viewscreen and sighed. "Uh-oh."

A fist of smoke bashed into the window, grinding the ship to a halt and throwing everyone off their feet. The twins regained their stability first and threw shields at the Emmuli, who knocked them aside and barreled like a comet directly at Warren. He aimed the rifle and fired, kept firing until the smoke parted and funneled around the bridge into humanoid shapes launching into individual attacks on everyone else.

orange (Rebirth)—

Something around Thrive's hands caught [Warren’s] eye. A faint orange mist, barely noticeable, diffuse and wispy, swirled around them, between his fingers, caressing his knuckles. Thrive didn't seem to notice.

Hondris gasped, as if it only then fully sunk in. "———…"

"I lost them ten minutes ago," Gouna muttered from the steps. "I...I did everything I could."

"Right," Thrive said. He sounded far away, numb. "...We'll...have to put together a rite, I'll...have to send them to the Sky…"

Warren reached out and touched Thrive's arm though he was numb as well. "Turn it off for a second."

Thrive's face twisted but he remained rigid otherwise, not allowing anything else to break through his outward emotional barrier.

yellow (Eternal)—

Muffled vibrations shook the Laiori R'si as the eliyi dreadnought opened fire, and Thrive did little else but level the Headmaster with an intense stare even as a low red strobe bathed the bridge in an eerie light, indicating his own vessel was under attack.

It was almost hypnotic; Thrive's natural form staring the Headmaster down as if he could reach into their brain from where he stood, and Warren wondered for a moment if that wasn't what he was trying to do.

More blasts of unfortunately familiar yellow energy went off against the outside of the viewscreen, deflected by a shimmering barrier protecting them. Thrive shifted his focus to the dreadnought just past the image of the eliyi spitting in their attempt to scream him into submission, and he remained the picture of calm.

green (Eternal)—

"You better eat all of this, because it's going to be impossible to feed you again for another several hours," [Guetry] said. "I was almost caught trying to bring you food once already."

"This is so stupid," Warren grunted, pulling himself to a sitting position and gratefully taking the plate. He took a bite—greens, potatoes, and something like beef, but slightly off, not quite from Earth. It still tasted amazing and Warren shoveled down as much as he could within the pause between his thoughts. "If you asked me five years before ——— if I'd ever love someone enough to stowaway on a starship for them, I'd have a direct line to the fucking police before you even finished talking."

"I know," Guetry said, already halfway to the door. "And I'm sorry. This is a mess to begin with. But it'll go by fast, I promise."

Warren rolled his eyes but said nothing else.

Mercury brought him his second and last meal before they arrived at the Ingress Gate, and Mercury informed him that they were ten hours away, which brought a deep relief to Warren he hadn't felt in a long time. At least one thing was reliable; Thrive, ever the workaholic, didn't come into their quarters once.

Except for when he did.

blue (Aurora)—

"Why would I be just as big a threat to the Emmuli…" Warren paused, mid-gesture, and his stomach lurched. "...Is this because of why I'm the Most Important Human Alive?"

"Yes."

"Wait," Warren said instantly. "Wait. I've waited ——— for this. Make the reveal as dramatic as possible."

The lights in the room shut down and a spotlight beamed on him and Thrive, a sea blue rising from under the floor. Warren heard Sussa and Guetry shifting around somewhere behind them.

"I really didn't think that would work," Warren said. More seriously, now, he turned to Thrive. "You know, don't you?"

"I have my suspicions."

"I want you to tell me."

Thrive's eyes sparkled under the harsh spotlight with a hint of cheekiness. "With the caveat that I'll be corrected if I'm wrong."

indigo (Aurora)—

"Did I miss it?"

"Yes," Gouna said, barely acknowledging Warren jogging into the lab. His nose was buried in a tablet, the other hand tapping away at the nearest console to the gestation tank, which still had the metal casing around it keeping it protected from the light. "You've just missed their entu'borah."

"Ooh," Corin piped up from his place hidden behind the tank. "We've got sarcasm today."

Thrive—also hidden behind the tank—stepped into view and, with Corin's help, removed the latches locking the casing in place. "That's extremely humorous coming from you," he grunted as the latches popped apart.

Gouna hooked his fingers into a slot in the side of the casing and pulled it off the tank, revealing the somewhat cloudy amniotic fluid and saturated indigo embryo floating inside, twitching at the sudden exposure to light.

Warren took a step closer, peering inside the tank with wide eyes. "Whoa…"

violet (Meridian)—

"Okay, this is it." Warren sat in a chair across from the chassis. "Harmony's got the code queued up and ready to send to the body."

She nodded at the computer. "Sending now."

The chassis hunched over, as if losing the strength to hold itself up, and the head twitched mechanically from one side to another, but then it went still.

Thrive moved closer to the hunched form, glancing in Harmony's direction. He waited for a couple of digital ticks, inching his fingers somewhat involuntarily toward the figure's shoulder. He inhaled as if prepared to speak, but he said nothing.

Warren thinned his eyes, unsure if he could take the anticipation much longer. His own words died in his throat upon the figure's head angling up and staring directly at Thrive.

Copper eyes blinked and neon violet swelled within the irises, swallowed by a hazy glow. They blinked again, cold, emotionless—settling on a more natural tint of purple, if that could be believed—and snapped to Warren.

#tag game #Find the Word #listen...where else are you gonna have the Pussycat Dolls Depeche Mode AND Howard Jones singing in Simlish #also I have definitely used the snippet from 'yellow' before but I am actually in love with it so. oops.

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Note

Levi ignored the formal greetings and salutes of the soldiers he passed as he made his way through the barracks. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only. He had to get to the infirmary.

Apparently, Hange had decided to start her experiments bright and early that day. So early that the sun had barely begun to rise. Not long after, a titan's arm broke free from its restraints and swung at Hange while her back was facing away. With no time to react, the full force of the attack had her instantly flying through the air and only stopping when her body met a wall. Levi didn't comprehend much of the details after that. He simply threw on his uniform as is, not bothering a second glance in the mirror.

He bit back a chill as he entered the courtyard, not knowing whether it was from the sudden cold winter air or from his own nerves. It was only then that he realized he had left without throwing on a coat.

When he entered the infirmary, he immediately noticed a small group of people huddled together. Hange's squad, Mike, Nanaba, and Erwin along with a nurse Levi didn't recognize. They all spoke in hushed whispers and, as if on cue, all turned to look at him. His pace suddenly slowed, an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach at their ominous gazes. He hesitated to approach.

After a moment, Erwin resumed speaking to the nurse and exchanged a few more words before she finally walked away. Erwin then dismissed the rest of the group as they shuffled away, avoiding eye contact as they passed Levi.

Levi swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and approached Erwin. "How's Hange?" He asked, hoping the tremor in his voice wasn't obvious.

"Levi," Erwin began, his voice stern and his jaw tight. "How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

"Just this morning." He answered.

Erwin's brow furrowed and Levi could see the wrinkles in his face. "I will ask again. How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

The question was puzzling. What kind of answer was Erwin looking for? Levi felt like a child being chastised. He was coming in blind to this whole situation, only knowing the information that Moblit had told him earlier.

"Moblit came by my room about twenty minutes ago and told me about the accident. I came as fast as I could."

Erwin's eyes stared intently at Levi, as if he was trying to look through him instead of at him. It was then that Levi noticed the small beads of sweat lining his forehead.

Levi's heart rate quickened. Something wasn't right. "Erwin, what the hell is going on?"

What was Erwin trying to get out of him? What did he know that Levi didn't? Was Hange sick? Surely he would've noticed, right? Then again, they hadn't seen much of each other recently. Hange had been busy testing a new theory involving the evaporation of titan blood and Levi had been assigned to oversee the development of the new training grounds.

She and Levi had grown close. Immensely close. Too close for Levi's comfort sometimes. They had become a bonded pair in all forms; emotionally, physically, and mentally. They knew each other's strengths and short-comings, their pet peeves and bad habits, their fears and hopes, the way each other tasted and smelled, how their bodies felt intertwined, the rhythm of each other's heartbeats. Hange had become the one thing Levi never wanted; someone to lose.

As if Erwin could sense his inner turmoil, his shoulders dropped and his eyes relaxed. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Nobody's told me a damn thing."

Erwin released a tired sigh. "Hange is alive but she suffered a concussion. The nurse wants to keep her here for a few days to monitor her once she wakes up."

"How long has she been unconscious?"

"I'm not sure but this could have been much worse. In more ways than you realize."

Levi could feel his frustration reaching its peak. "Why not just come out and tell me whatever the hell it is you're hiding?"

Erwin just shook his head. "It's not for me to tell. We'll continue this at a later time. You may see her if you'd like."

Levi decided not to further the discussion and made his way towards the room. Once his hand had reached the doorknob, he heard Erwin's voice behind him. "Levi, once you're finished, meet me in my office. We have much to discuss."

Levi's hand tightened around the doorknob. He didn't like being left in the dark but he was humanity's strongest, surely he could handle whatever news Erwin was refusing to disclose.

He shook the thought from his mind, wanting to be solely focused on Hange. He readied himself for the sight and pushed open the door.

Hange appeared natural as she slept in the hospital bed before him. Her expression was peaceful with the usual stress lines in her face relaxed. Her glasses rested on a table next to the bed with her uniform and winter coat thrown over a wooden chair. She had been changed into a hospital gown with a white bandage wrapped around her head.

"That was an extreme stunt to pull just to get some sleep don't you think, four eyes?" Levi mused.

He examined the bandage and noticed a minimal amount of blood from a scrape on the side of her head. He wasn't sure what the worry was about. Concussions were a normal injury for most soldiers, especially new recruits who were practicing with their ODM gear.

Still, Erwin had mentioned her "condition" which meant there was something Levi was missing, something he wasn't seeing.

"Sorry about this, Hange." He said as he grabbed the blanket on top of her and tossed it to the side.

Before the blanket had even touched the ground, Levi had stumbled away from Hange's bedside until his back was forced against the wall. His heart beat hard against his chest, he struggled to catch his breath and felt as if he was suffocating, his knees trembled beneath him, and his mind could not comprehend the sight before him.

Levi looked around the room as if an explanation would appear before him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her again. He was almost thankful that she was asleep.

The sight of her winter coat suddenly drew his attention. Like most things, Hange was too engrossed in her research and often careless when it came to her own health. Levi would often find her outside in the snow, watching over her precious titans, wearing nothing more than her usual brown jacket. She never bundled herself properly and always claimed she felt fine despite the obvious signs of her red nose, chapped lips, chattering teeth, and shivering body. And as expected, Levi would be the one to have to care for her when she fell ill.

Although, come to think of it, this was the first year that Hange had actually been adamant about wearing her coat. Each time Levi saw her, she had it buttoned around her, refusing to take it off even when indoors. And if he thought about it further, he realized that it always looked a size too big for her.

The realization suddenly came crashing on him as all the pieces fell into place. The air felt as if it had been knocked out of him and his head was spinning. If it weren't for the wall supporting him, he's sure he would have collapsed.

It didn't feel real. It couldn't be real.

It was stupid, he knew, the evidence was right in front of him but he just had to confirm it for himself. He looked towards her still sleeping face and then very slowly trailed his eyes down her body until he was staring at a small bump on her torso.

He steadied his knees and pushed himself away from the wall. It felt like an eternity before he was finally able to move his legs and reach her bed side. With a shaky hand and a deep ragged breath, he outstretched his arm until it rested gently on her swollen abdomen. He ignored the water stinging the corner of his eyes and forcefully blinked the sensation away.

It was as if his mind was not his own as he began to slowly stroke small circles on top of her belly. As he was getting used to the feeling, he felt a sudden pressure hit against his head. He immediately froze his movements and waited. A few seconds passed and there it was again, a small push to his hand.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and could feel his lips curve into a smile. He was feeling a kick. The being inside of Hange was making it self known to him.

He became overwhelmed with an abundance of conflicting emotions bombarding him all at once. He had so many thoughts, questions, ideas, fears. At that moment all he could do was reach for her hand and relish in the comfort of her warmth beneath his palm. He needed her here with him.

And then a new realization chilled him to his core.

She would eventually awaken...wouldn't she?

"Hange." He whispered desperately. "Please, wake up."

omg, you got me so worried!! i thought hange lost the baby, but whew! i'm so glad the baby is alright! and your writing is top notch! if you ever think of posting it and maybe adding a second part...... hmu?

#it was so intense i was at the edge of my seat! even contemplated skipping convo between levi and erwin to see how it's going to end #but smh...... now i'm so interested in what erwin is going to tell levi

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everythingsinred · 3 years

Text

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt.10)

WOW we did it folks. 10 parts to an essay that we're like. a quarter of the way done with. That's pretty great! More or less, by the time you finish reading this post, you'll have read 35k words worth of analysis and I'll have spent countless hours writing it. What amazing dedication we have to this manga! We should get an anime reboot as a reward!

Anyway, let's go crazy stupid trying to wrap up this arc, where we can see the extent of Natsume's selflessness. As we approach the end, something will happen to make Natsume's plans to distance himself from Mikan very difficult. Let us begin!

Also I've been forgetting to put trigger warnings up for these but I put them on the first few so hopefully you know they're all like that. Child abuse is a huge topic we'll cover throughout, as well as all the consequences that come with it, so be wary.

Chapter Forty-One

Medusa--Mihara-san--is amused to see that the frightening, powerful, and awe-inspiring “Black Cat”, who demonstrates a trained command of his alice despite wearing an alice-restraining mask on missions, is actually just a little kid.

Natsume doesn’t care about being impressive; he cuts to the chase, asking where Mikan is. Medusa makes his comments, but Natsume stays on his point: his new mission is to save Mikan, after all. Though keeping Mikan and Ruka safe had been his personal mission from the get-go. But just as Natsume isn’t interested in anything Medusa has to say if it isn’t about Mikan, Medusa isn’t interested in any topic that is about Mikan. So the small talk ends and Shiki is commanded to test the kids’ abilities.

Natsume cares about one thing right now and it isn't his DA alias.

They are in the midst of some kind of battle or standoff when Mikan reappears, safe. She calls out to them, excited to see them again. Ruka and Tsubasa are happy to see her safe as well, so they call out too. Natsume is not as thrilled. He’s good at staying on mission and keeping his attention on the dangers around him, like Shiki and Medusa, as well as the countless other Z members, all with mystery alices.

Mikan suddenly appearing and making herself known is dangerous, and she’s immediately under attack, unwittingly. He runs to protect her, using his alice as a barrier between them and the man who just tried to hurt her, but when he turns back to look at Mikan, he’s livid.

The art in this scene is so gorgeous, I could stare it forever. Look at how silky Natsume's hair is. Pretty.

Tsubasa and Ruka have never been on a mission like this. They were just eager to see Mikan unharmed. She was also just excited to see her friends again after being separated. But Natsume knows better. On a mission, you have to stay vigilant and always careful, and Mikan was careless. He yells at her, scolding her. But even through his emotions, he stays vigilant, protecting her even more when the enemy tries to take advantage of the distraction.

This is what he came for, not just to be the brains and keep them on track throughout the journey, but also to protect them, because that’s what he always does, what his priority always is. He will use his alice to ward off enemy attacks, and use his body as a shield, even if he winds up exhausted and bleeding and hurt. And he is.

But he still tells Mikan to stay behind him, to stay safe, so he can properly protect her this time, because he couldn’t do it before.

He doesn’t expect Mikan to get up and tell him that he doesn’t have to worry. She doesn’t want or need him to protect her; instead she wants to help him. She tells him, for once, that he doesn’t have to be the only one hurt anymore. He’s understandably surprised to hear this, because it means that someone other than Ruka has been paying attention. She understands that he’s been through the wringer, and she doesn’t want to just sit back and benefit from his effort without giving anything back. But more than just saying she’ll take on the brunt of things for him, she wants to help. She wants to be his strength, not a burden on him.

She has been noticing him, even the things he doesn't want her to notice.

This shocks him enough that it actually distracts him from his vigilance, and suddenly it appears that Ruka is in danger. He leaves her side just long enough for her to be captured by Shiki instead, and immediately teleported to Medusa’s side. They needed to get Mikan out of the way, after all, so that Medusa could use his alice, which he immediately uses to petrify Tsubasa’s leg.

Chapter Forty-Two

Right off the bat, we’re shown just how much the stakes have risen. Medusa’s alice is deadly, not just dangerous, and he’s already managed to hit Tsubasa with it. His next command is to have Yuka steal the kids’ alices, and to start with Natsume. It would make things easier on him, anyway, Medusa says, obviously privy to the idea that a child like Natsume wouldn’t want to be a child soldier at all, unlike Reo who mused that maybe Natsume would be more content with just a change of employer.

But Yuka makes it clear that her alice isn’t strong enough to steal all of the alices at once, trying to spare the kids from losing their abilities. So Medusa then goes to a Plan B, convincing the kids that his alice will only be temporarily affecting them until they agree to work for Z. After all, Natsume can’t really use his alice when Medusa has Mikan in his clutches. He’s been in this situation before, practically living in it, having the lives and happiness of his loved ones held over his head so that he will be pliant. Medusa comments that he loves torturing people like him, and he must not be the only one, since Natsume’s been tortured in this way for years now.

Ruka is hit in the shoulder while trying to shield Tsubasa from another attack from Medusa, and the shoulder region is particularly life-threatening, as it’s close to the heart and he might die from the loss of blood flow soon. Of course, this sets Natsume into berserk mode, but before he can use his alice, he coughs violently. This gives Medusa an opportunity to strike Natsume in his dominant arm, his left one.

He tries to use his alice, despite being at a new disadvantage, and still angry from what’s happening to Ruka. So his leg gets hit too.

Medusa gets temporarily incapacitated by Mikan’s nullification, so he sends Yuka to steal Natsume’s alice, which should be a walk in the park because he’s lost control of his arm and leg, so he can’t run away.

It’s here that Natsume reveals to the reader the secret he’s been keeping for the past few days, the one that we must now keep as well, that Mikan is Yuka’s daughter.

This is another one of those situations, where the stars align in all the wrong ways. Something you've always wanted is within grasp, but there's too many reasons not to take it.

Natsume stands there, unable to move, and ponders his situation as Mikan desperately screams for him to run away.

He wonders if he was waiting for this exact moment, if that’s the reason he came along at all, so that he could meet Yuka and have her steal his alice away.

Earlier, Natsume left a conversation about losing alices because it was too painful. He doesn’t feel the same way about his that the rest of them do. It’s not some fond part of him that he can’t stand to lose. He hates it. It’s been a hindrance since the day he was born. People of all sorts of organizations, including the government operated Academy and terrorist organizations like Z, have coveted his power. It’s put his loved ones in danger. It’s made his life a living hell. He’s been robbed of a fun childhood, of smiles and friendship, of peace. It’s stolen opportunity from him, so he can’t even feel free to pursue a crush, or make bonds freely, or let himself laugh. It stole his future from him, and he dies a little bit more every day. He won’t live long enough to go on a date, graduate, get married, get a normal job, have kids, grow old. He might not even make it to middle school, and he knows it. He lives his whole life in eternal emotional, physical, and mental agony. He’s always under the gun, always careful, always selfless, always defensive.

Why would anyone want that?

And this is his chance to lose it all. Things could be easier, better, safer. He could lose it and finally exhale. He could go back home to his dad. He could be an actual kid for once. Yuka could steal his alice and all of his responsibilities and the deadweight he’s been carrying on his back for his whole life could be gone.

Of course he almost lets her steal it.

But Mikan has been screaming in anguish for him to run away, and he remembers what she said when she saved him during the Reo Arc: that it was too late to give up, and that they should return to the academy together, because a bright future must be waiting for them.

And because of that, Natsume makes his first move to escape Yuka’s alice.

Does Natsume really want a future if his friends and loved ones would still be in danger? Would it be worth it if he was safe, if it came at the price of their safety? If Natsume doesn’t use his alice to keep them safe and protected, then who will? Who can?

Natsume smacking Yuka’s hand away isn’t selfish. It’s not him realizing he wants to keep his alice, that maybe deep down, he might actually love it. It’s not dear to him in any way. It’s still the thing that wears his body down and forces him to cough up blood. No, this act is selfless, yet again, because his own happiness and even his life come dead last to him. He has to keep them all safe after all.

Yuka snatches his wrist anyway, ready to steal his alice away, until she realizes she can’t. Mikan is using her alice from all the way across the room to protect Natsume.

So basically, the idea of Natsume leaving the academy causes this kind of reaction in Mikan, something Natsume has no choice but to see for what it is: fondness.

He looks at her with surprise, because this is an act of affection. Mikan has just used her alice to keep him with her. His life isn’t in danger, but she wants him to stick around. Now more than ever, Natsume can see proof that she cares about him, even despite all the bullying he’s done, despite all the mean words he’s thrown her way, even after he told her cruelly that he hates every single thing about her. Up until now, Natsume had no reason to believe she was doing anything but tolerating him, and though that was the outcome he was working for, deep down he does want the girl he likes to have some fondness for him too. This is the first time Natsume can really see that he means something to her too, as more than just a classmate or a partner. He is someone she doesn't want to part with.

And Mikan has fulfilled her wish, to be Natsume’s strength, because now Natsume is able to yell at her to duck and blow up the wall behind her.

Usually such huge explosions are the result of him at his angriest, using his ability to punish the people who hurt his loved ones. He’s probably also done similar things on missions, maybe even when he’s completely calm. But this time Natsume is weaker than ever, his dominant left arm completely out of commission, unable to move, under duress. He finds the strength to cause that explosion because of Mikan, because she wants him around.

While everyone is distracted, Natsume tells Yuka to go help Mikan, hinting that he knows her secret.

So Yuka stabs Mihara-san and has the petrified kids lick his blood off the blade. It’s confusing to the other kids why she would do this, but Natsume knows exactly why.

It would be interesting to see more interaction between Yuka and Natsume. Surely Yuka knows that Natsume is Kaoru’s son? It would be interesting to see if she noticed that his name matches Mikan’s. What does she think of him? What might their dynamic be like? I will always mourn that we’ll never find out.

Chapter Forty-Three

This chapter is the one that should officially designate this manga into the “tragedy” category. Yes, there’s been some heavy and deep stuff so far, most having to do with Natsume and the heavy abuse he deals with, but even with all that it’s managed to be mainly a cheerful and upbeat story. This chapter makes it clear that horrible and heart-wrenching things can and will happen, that we can’t count on a happy ending every time.

The kids are close to escape. They’re about to head through a warp zone back to school, and it’s urgent they move fast because the hide-out they’re in is currently imploding. Unfortunately, Mikan has dropped the antidote to the bullet that hit Hotaru, so she refuses to leave until she’s retrieved it from under a pile of rubble.

Pengy finally has a chance to prove itself, wriggling under and saving the antidote for Hotaru. It has helped Mikan, and because that’s the best thing someone can do, Natsume is grateful.

Natsume's smile (even a small one like this) has incredible powers, like giving robots a feeling of self-worth, making his classmates fall in love with him, and making me think he is a good boy. It would be irresponsible to overuse it.

Just like when Tsubasa showed his worth back at the high school division when he used his alice to help Mikan, Natsume has a new respect for Pengy, who was able to do something amazing to help the group, and Mikan especially. So he gives Pengy a slight smile. It’s really subtle and nothing outstanding on anybody else, but it’s a rare thing to get from Natsume, even for those whom he loves. “I guess you can be a little useful,” he says. This is the best sign of appreciation someone can get from him, and Pengy glows for a moment (ahh… the power of Natsume’s smile), until things fall apart.

The floor gives way under Mikan’s feet. They’re able to pull Mikan up, but Pengy is still too far to reach. Despite Mikan’s desperation, Pengy understands that they’re wasting time trying to reach it. Finally, after Pengy has proven its use to Natsume, it refuses to be a hindrance again, and sacrifices itself so that everyone can safely return the antidote to Hotaru.

They’re all through the tunnel, hit with the knowledge that Pengy is gone. They all react somewhat differently, but Natsume feels guilt.

Pengy's smile has evil powers because it makes me cry.

Natsume had considered Pengy a robot, something unfeeling and mechanical, just a useless thing Hotaru made once. It was something that could be discarded, and after it had proven to be troublesome, he’d even advocated that it should be discarded. He’d considered it useless all along, but when it really counted, Pengy was able to save Mikan and the antidote. It proved not only that it could be useful, but that it wasn’t just another mechanical robot. When Natsume smiled at it, it smiled back. And in its final act of sacrifice, it acted out of love for both Hotaru and Mikan, and Natsume feels sorry for what he’d said about it.

Natsume has a habit for establishing a bad impression of someone, and then having that person work hard to prove themselves to him. Pengy is one example, but he’s like this with Tsubasa, Mikan, and all sorts of people at first. People (and robots) that he despises until they show him what they’re really made of, winning his respect and sometimes even affection. It makes sense he would be so distrustful, seeing the life he has to live. Trusting the wrong person can get you hurt sometimes, and can lead to disaster. And having something useless like Pengy can cause a mission to fail. But Natsume is sometimes wrong about his first impression of a person, and the same qualities that could lead him to believe something is useless or annoying can end up being strengths that he respects.

Chapter Forty-Five

Yes, I skipped 44 because that’s more noteworthy as a Mikan chapter. Natsume doesn’t do anything I found particularly intriguing and I didn’t want to make anything up or repeat myself. In fact, for the rest of this arc, there’s very little left for me to say, so I apologize if this is a short analysis to conclude with.

The first thing we’ll address is the ESP and Persona discussing the insubordination that has just occurred. Yes, an injured student has safely recovered, and a Z hideout has been destroyed, but it wasn’t their plan for things to happen that way. Narumi needs a warning, for one. Natsume, according to Persona, needs simply to be punished back into obedience. From the way Persona talks about him, we can see how little he thinks of Natsume, how easy he can be to manipulate and control, which is all he is good for anyway. To them, Natsume is nothing more than a pawn in their game. Sure, he’s a useful pawn, the Black Cat that strikes fear into the hearts of the school’s enemies and successfully completes his missions even with a punishment mask on, but he’s still just a pawn. Nothing more.

While watching Mikan and Hotaru’s reunion, Tsubasa teases Natsume about joining the group hug. Natsume ignores him, and makes to walk away, but stops just long enough to toss his healing alice necklace to him. Tsubasa can borrow it to make up for having Subaru put Natsume’s injuries first. He makes it clear that he doesn’t want anybody looking after him, and that might seem like a snub, but this is kindness too. Natsume calls Tsubasa by his name, though he’ll do his best to avoid ever saying it again, and lends him a source of comfort and healing to pay back Tsubasa’s compassion. This is a growing moment, because Natsume has opened himself up to the idea that he could care about more people, even if it means more to lose.

Saying people's names is another rare magic from Natsume, I guess.

Natsume has learned things on this mission too, just like Mikan has. He’s a bit more open-minded now. He judged both Tsubasa and Pengy, and ended up changing his mind about them both, even if only by a little. He’s also discovered that Mikan has affection for him too, and it will completely undo all the effort he’s so far tried to make in distancing himself. It’s one thing to stay away from the girl you like when she hardly stands you. It’s another thing when she enjoys your company, and your feelings are turning into love. His feelings have intensified, or maybe they were always so intense but are just newly solidified, as he’s not hiding from them as much anymore.

He won’t be able to distance himself from her anymore, so he’ll completely stop trying.

Conclusion

Natsume has realized that Mikan holds a degree of fondness for him too, and because he is now very deeply in love with her, he will not be able to stay away like he'd resolved to before. Tomorrow we will begin our essay with Natsume's birthday, a very exciting way to start looking at his new approach to his relationship with Mikan.

The last essay (pt. 9) in particular inspired people to tell me that they were learning new things about Natsume, and as a result even loving him more, and that makes me so happy! Natsume is one of my favorite characters ever, and I want people to love him as much as I do! I love when people leave comments or questions! Really, I'm just so happy and over the moon that people are reading and enjoying, because again--this is a LOT of words. It's a long essay, and it means so much not just that people want to read about Natsume and his feelings for Mikan, but that they want to hear what I have to say about it! Thank you so much for supporting me! Isn't it exciting that we're about a quarter through? <3

I can’t put a song in the tags cuz I have too many tags. So. Church by Fall Out Boy.

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#gakuen alice #alice academy #hyuuga natsume #natsume hyuuga #natsumikan #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #my meta #ga #mine #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: natsume #yes natsume is a leftie and i will bring it up a thousand times #hes left handed. as if he wasnt oppressed enough #might make an appreciation post for natsume being left handed #also his cute little smile! he is BAbEY #hes my son i will protECT him #also! when it comes to picking the title pictures.... its so hard #i try to pick pictures from the era #particularly a chapter cover from the arc that i like #sometimes im not lucky and theres not a grand selection #i also have to save some pics for mikans essay. so. limited options #i really am trying to do my best here and include good pics!#i was gonna pick a lil snippet from the aeiou book but i dont have any good quality images of that book so the pic i got was grainy #i chose this instead. closer to the era i think #could be better. im sorry

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 7

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,480

Warnings: none

A/N: This is long overdue, sorry - hopefully it’s worth it. It’s also incredibly long... idek anymore. I want to thank you all for your patience and support. It means a lot to me.

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

You grumbled into your pillow when you heard your phone buzz on the bedside table. Cracking one eye open, you lifted your phone and squinted to read the neon numbers showing on the screen.

7:12 a.m.

You had an email notification, nothing important, but it somehow managed to come through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ feature. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep so you got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

A smile curled up your lips when you saw the leftovers from your made-up holiday. There were a few cookies and muffins in a plate, a large bowl of cereals, and two dirty milkshake glasses on the counter.

It had been a fun and relaxing couple of days. You ate, talked, played board games, and watched movies in your fanciest loungewear attire. Bucky sought your touch more than usual and it left you a little confused. Every time he touched you, the line between feelings of friendship and feelings of love became blurred.

Bucky was an early riser, always up before you, dressed in his usual khakis and long sleeved Henley shirts with his hair slightly tousled. He looked effortlessly sexy and always had a warm smile for you even though you looked like a hot mess in your mismatched pyjamas, staggering into the kitchen, blindly following the smell of food cooking on the stove.

Today, the kitchen was silent. Bucky was probably still asleep, so you decided to cook breakfast. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d catch him in his night clothes.

Wasting no time, you made a beeline for the coffee machine. You filled the water tank and measured fresh grounds into the filter, but your task was interrupted when you heard groans coming from somewhere nearby. You soon figured out that the sounds were coming from the living room.

Curious, you silently made your way toward the sound. The shades were up, and you could see the midnight blue sky fading into pastel hues of yellow and pink with the approaching dawn. Under any other circumstances, you would have been completely enraptured by its beauty, but something else caught your attention.

Bucky was standing upside down with his head on a yoga mat. His eyes were closed and his features were set in an expression of serious concentration. You half hid behind the wall and observed him.

You were impressed, his headstand was perfectly vertical and he was doing it without hand support, meaning that he was supporting his entire weight on his neck. He slowly lowered one toe back down, then the other, before he rested his forearm on the mat and lifted his butt toward the ceiling, his body forming a perfect inverted V.

“You’re up already,” he asked, sitting back on his haunches. “I can hear you breathing behind that wall.”

Busted...

You peeked out into the living room and cringed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you but that was sooo impressive.” You walked into the room and perched yourself on the arm of the sofa, facing Bucky who was kneeling at your feet. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled, his cheeks red from exertion and bashfulness. “Practice. Yoga’s good for building strength.”

He looked up at you with a boyish smile, his hair damp with perspiration. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, rolling too close to his eyes and making him squint.

His pants left little to the imagination, the fabric stretched across his powerful thighs, and his sleeveless shirt clung to his drenched chest, outlining his muscles. Your eyes darted to his left shoulder where his stump was visible.

Despite living with him for over two months, you had never seen him in one of those sleeveless shirts before, though you couldn’t blame him since it was the middle of winter and you hadn’t been wearing any either. It was warm inside the apartment but not enough to walk around bare-armed.

“It’s easier to do yoga when the sleeve isn’t slapping me in the face every five seconds,” Bucky said, looking at his stump. “But I can cover it up if you prefer.”

“No! Of course not,” you rushed to say. “I’m sorry. That was really rude.”

“You were just looking, it’s only natural,” he said. “People are curious. Staring... well, staring is different.” His frown smoothed away and he turned to you with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

You smiled down at him. “Starving.”

“I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, then I’ll start breakfast.”

“Actually, I was about to start cooking before I got distracted.” Bucky looked away, a slight blush covering his cheeks. “But I think we have plenty of food left over from last night.”

“We’re not eating cookies for breakfast,” he said. “We’ll save them for later. Right now we need something healthy.” He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet and ran upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You shook your head at his antics and returned to the kitchen to finish making coffee. After all he’d done for you, it was the least you could do. You knew Bucky liked cooking –and he was damn good at it- but sometimes you wondered if this was a fair arrangement.

He had given you a place to stay, money, food to eat, your own artist’s studio, and you had given him... nothing. Admittedly, you knew that your presence calmed him, comforted him. You gave him the emotional support he desperately needed and it was important, but he could also have adopted a pet.

Too tired for coffee or tea, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, hoping it would wake you up. It worked but your self-deprecating thoughts were still playing havoc in your mind.

You were fixing Bucky’s coffee when he came back downstairs after his shower, and you were pleasantly surprised to find him wearing a clean sleeveless shirt. You met his eyes and found that he was watching you intently. You offered him a smile and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“Looking good, James.”

He looked down at his feet with a bashful smile as he crossed the room slowly. You observed him in silence while he prepared breakfast for the two of you. It was a simple breakfast bowl with yogurt, granola, fresh fruits and honey but he somehow made it look like a gourmet dish.

“There you go, angel,” he said, setting your bowl in front of you. “What are you going to do today?”

You took a slice of kiwi and dipped in yogurt. “I think I’m going to paint. You?”

Bucky licked his spoon and you stared at it longingly before you quickly averted your eyes. No, you couldn’t be jealous of a goddamn spoon. Catch yourself on.

“I have an idea for a new book,” he said, running his tongue along his teeth to clean them before he spoke again. “I had a meeting with my agent last week. It went well, my old publisher really wants to work with me again. I’m signing my contract this afternoon.”

“Bucky!” you squealed after swallowing your mouthful of yogurt a little too fast. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you,” he said, staring into nothing with wide eyes. “I’m nervous, scared and excited at the same time. It’s strange, y’know, all these feelings mixed together. It’s a bit overwhelming and I haven’t even started yet.”

“Don’t think too much,” you said. “You’ve done this before, you can do it again.”

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling.

You scraped your spoon around the bowl and licked it clean. “What’s it about? Is it a novel? Can I be in it?”

Bucky chuckled to himself and you figured that every single writer had friends who begged them to appear in their books. You couldn’t help it, the idea of living forever as ink on a page was too tempting.

“It’s not a novel,” he said. “It’s the third instalment of my series. The style is a little hard to explain but this is what I like to say: self-help book meets Bridget Jones’ Diary.”

“I tried to look you up but I couldn’t find anything written by a James Barnes or a Bucky Barnes.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you a fraud? Or are you using a pen name?”

He pretended to think about it. “I’m a fraud.”

“I knew it,” you mock-sighed.

Bucky took your bowl and placed it in the sink along with his. When he started cleaning them, you joined him and took a dish towel.

“I’ll tell you soon,” he spoke after a moment.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

You knew he wasn’t going to tell you what his pen name was, not now at least. His books were a reflection of his struggles, his success, and his fears, and you could understand why he preferred to keep you in the dark for now.

The people who read his books didn’t know him, they were just anonymous faces in a crowd but you were real. You were his friend, his new friend, and your opinion mattered.

“It’s been a couple of years since I’ve published my last book. My agent said that people haven’t forgotten about me but I still have to,” he made air quotes with his fingers, “’show my face’, just to remind everyone that I’m still writing.” He sighed.

“There’s a charity event next month at the museum of Natural History,” he continued. “It’s a huge event, a lot of important people will be there, including some of the most famous gallerists and curators in the country. You’re allowed to say no but,” he paused and turned to look at you, “do you want to come with me?”

You pressed your lips together while you mulled this over. There was no doubt in your mind that it was a great opportunity, one that you would have never had without Bucky, and you knew you had to say yes. But this was your least favourite part of being an artist.

You didn’t know how to sell yourself and you always felt like an arrogant asshat when you spoke about your paintings, even though you had every right to be proud of your work.

You had managed to persuade yourself that this new life would last forever. Eat, laugh, paint, repeat forever. But it wasn’t real. You had to put yourself out there, even if it made you uncomfortable because painting was only half your job.

Something else bothered you. You didn’t want to be the poor, struggling artist who took advantage of a charity event to make herself known. It seemed wrong and hypocritical.

You voiced your concerns to Bucky who looked at you with a pained expression.

“Yes, it’s a fundraiser but I can assure you that everyone at the party will be talking business and exchanging business cards,” he said. “And they’ll compensate with a huge donation to clear their guilty conscience. Is it false philanthropy? Absolutely, and I’m ashamed to say I’m one of them. You’re not taking advantage of a good cause, we are.”

“You’re nothing like them,” you said. “You’re kind and selfless, you’re a good person.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, angel,” he said with a tight smile.

When you opened your mouth to protest, he leaned forward and cupped the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, ending the conversation. He had never done that before and you froze, feeling equal parts confused, incredulous and appreciated.

He pulled back and wiped down the sink with the sponge, acting like kissing you so sweetly was something completely normal, like he was unbothered. Meanwhile you just stood there wondering if you would ever be able to breathe normally again.

You pressed your lips together hard and tried to gather your thoughts but your mind was reeling. You were about to leave the room when your eyes landed on a pile of mail on the kitchen counter.

The first letter was a cheesy view of the Tower Bridge, the words ‘Greetings from London’ written in bold cursive letters across the postcard.

You only knew one person who still sent postcards.

Wanda.

“What’s this?” you asked, nodding toward the stack of mail.

Confused, Bucky looked to you then followed your line of sight and saw the mail. “Oh, Natasha dropped these off last night. She wanted to see you but you were already asleep.”

You nodded distractedly while you picked up the postcard. The sight of it filled you with anxiety. Your sister didn’t’ send these postcards often, but every time you received one it reminded you that things were different now. Gone was the happy and supportive family you used to cherish.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read Wanda’s hastily written words.

I’m coming home.

She was coming home. A wave of nausea ran through you and your breathing came shallow and fast.

“Wow, wow, wow.” You felt Bucky’s hand at our waist, steering you toward a chair, and you realized your legs were giving way under you. “Deep breaths, angel. Look at me. There you go!”

“Sorry,” you said. “See what happens when you don’t let me eat cookies for breakfast?”

Bucky smiled at your poor attempt at humour. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You debated telling him but you weren’t sure how to voice your concerns so you handed him the postcard instead. You had told Bucky about Wanda. She had disappeared after Pietro’s death, sending postcards from time to time as proof that she was still alive and well.

“Your sister is coming home.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I haven’t seen her for six years. She doesn’t know our mom has Alzheimer, she doesn’t know I sold our old childhood home. She keeps sending those postcards there. I gave the new owners Natasha’s address in case they still receive our mail. They’re very nice.” You let out a humourless laugh. “I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I sold our house, and they could have taken advantage of me but they didn’t. I guess it’s not every day you buy a family house from a 24 year old girl. It probably screams tragic backstory, uh?”

“You did this on your own?”

“Yup.”

Bucky put his hand on your knee and gave you a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

You looked down at his thumb rubbing soothing circles just above your knee. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy.” You paused, then raised your head to look at him. “Living with you makes my life so much easier. I live in my own little bubble where I don’t have to be an adult. I feel like I can finally breathe. And I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me and all you continue to do.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head. “We help each other. We’re good together.”

“Yes, of course,” you said with a smile. “But we both know it’ll have to end one day. It has to, one way or another. I want to be more independent, start my career and support my family. I don’t want to rely on others anymore. I want to rely on myself.”

“But there’s no rush, angel.”

“I know, but nothing’s gonna change if I stay in my little bubble. I have to do things that make me uncomfortable.”

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’ll come with you to the fundraiser.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but a smile broke across his face. “That’s great! But what about your sister?”

You shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. She’ll probably go to our old house, realize it’s not ours anymore. If she’s lucky they’ll give her Natasha’s address. I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions but she can’t show up six years later and act like our bond is still intact. I’m not at her beck and call. I’m only responsible for myself and, Bucky, I’m so tired of trying to please everyone. I deserve to live my best life, goddammit.”

“I am so happy to hear you say that,” Bucky said, his smile blinding. “Celebratory cookie?”

“Yes! Two cookies, please,” you replied, out of breath. “I’m slightly freaking out.”

You spent the next couple of weeks planning for the event; painting, taking pictures of your work, posting them on Instagram, searching for gallerists and curators you wanted to work with and cross-checking the attendees.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but wonder if Wanda was already in New York and if she was looking for you.

“Check this out!” you exclaimed, shoving a business card in Natasha’s face before you pushed past her to get into her apartment. “It’s official, I’m an artist.”

She laughed as she closed the door, her eyes on the card. “Hi, it’s nice to see you, too,” she deadpanned.

“Sorry, hi.”

“Well, looks like you’re all set. When’s the party?”

“Next week,” you replied, taking a seat on you former bed, her sofa. “I’m a little nervous, but also excited. I don’t know, it’s a strange feeling.”

Natasha pinned your business card onto the fridge using a magnet before she opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a bottle of orange juice. She took two glasses from the cupboard and joined you on the sofa.

“But, yeah, I’m ready. I have over two hundred business cards, I know who I want to work with, and I even bought an external battery pack just in case.”

“And what are you going to wear?” Natasha asked before taking a sip of orange juice. You looked at her with wide eyes, panic written all over your face. “You forgot to buy a dress,” she concluded out loud. “Why am I not surprised?”

“With everything going on, I completely forgot I had to... wear clothes.”

“I’m sure James wouldn’t mind seeing you in your birthday suit.” She laughed when you practically shoved her off the sofa. “Come on, I’ll help you look semi-decent.”

You groaned. “I don’t want to go shopping right now. Plus, I blew all my money on business cards.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s freezing outside, I’m not leaving my apartment,” she replied, reaching for her laptop. “You’re going to rent it.”

“Ew,” you made a face.

You remembered the formal wear store where you had rented your prom dress. The place smelled like moth balls and sweat, and the dress had given you a rash. Not a great memory.

“Trust me, I know this is your first but I’m a seasoned veteran. I’ve been to dozens of fundraisers, and I had to wear dozens of designer dresses. Do you even know how much a Saint Laurent evening gown cost? You can’t wear the same dress twice. That’s a big no-no. And it’s not just the dress. You need a clutch, a pair of shoes, jewelry, a coat. You have to rent them.”

“You’re giving me a headache.”

She opened up her web browser and typed in the website address for the dress rental. As she entered your size and budget, it was obvious that she knew her way around the website and you had to admit that it was a lot easier than traditional shopping.

You looked at the collection of dresses, not entirely convinced, when you found it. You instantly knew it was the right one.

You stared longingly at the beautiful wine-red dress, made entirely of velvet. The bodice was cut on the bias, the fabric draping itself elegantly to contour the shape of the model’s upper body. The skirt was long and flowing, and the waist was cinched in with a thin black belt.

You clicked on the second picture and Natasha let out a strangled gasp. The open back was draped at the waist and weighted with a crystal on a golden chain.

The dress gave off 1930s vibes, it was elegant and refined but the back was daring and sexy. It was exactly what you needed. You paired it with a black wool cape, and Natasha offered to let you borrow a pair of shoes, jewellery and a bag.

The dress and coat arrived the next day. The woman who delivered them was kind and polite, she stayed in the kitchen while you tried on the dress. Once you gave the all-clear, she handed you your receipt.

The dress was yours for an entire week.

On the day of the gala, you were a nervous, sweaty mess. Natasha’s clutch was on your nightstand, filled to the brim with business cards. Your hair and makeup were already done. You sat on your bed in your underwear, staring at the dress hanging in your closet.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

You were adjusting the fabric around your cleavage, making sure everything flowed nicely, when you heard Bucky shouting from the kitchen.

“The car will be there in fifteen minutes.”

You took a deep breath and smoothed your hands down the sides of your dress, the tickling caress of the velvet calming you almost instantly. You reached for the handle, your heart hammering in your chest, and opened the door.

Bucky was standing at the kitchen island, looking down at his phone. He looked up when he heard the sound of your door opening.

“Hey, are you-” The rest of his sentence died on his lips as he froze. He stood there, staring at you, his eyes roaming your body in a manner that could only be called amazement. “You look-” He shook his head as if he couldn’t find the right word.

You looked down at yourself, grinning. After weeks of seeing you in your big woolly jumpers, pyjamas and painting overalls, you could understand why this was a shock. It was one to you as well.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

“Thank you.” He stood a little straighter when he noticed you were checking him out. He wore a dark blue suit with black lapels, a white shirt and a black velvet bow tie. You matched. “You look like a real heartthrob in that suit.”

He laughed and looked away, embarrassed. It was your favourite look on him; when he couldn’t maintain eye contact and his cheeks were slightly red and his nose crunched up a little.

“You’re wearing your prosthetic,” you said, noticing the stiff arm and fake hand.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking at his left arm. “This thing itches like hell, but I don’t blend well in a crowd when I’m not wearing my prosthetic. These people know me, they’ll be looking for me. Let’s not make it too easy for them.”

He finished his sentence with a wink and your entire body threatened to spontaneously combust. Do people still wink? Apparently. You walked over to him and briefly stroked his arm before you walked past him to the bathroom.

It gave him a great view of your bare back and the little crystal nestled just above the small of your back. You didn’t see his reaction but you heard his sharp intake of breath.

You left the bathroom door open while you rummaged through your makeup bag, relief flowing through you when your fingers brushed against your favourite lipstick.

You straightened up and looked at yourself in the mirror. Bucky was leaning against the bathroom door frame, observing you. You uncapped the lipstick and brought it to your lips, locking eyes with him in the mirror.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost ready.”

“I’m not worried,” Bucky replied with a mischievous smile. “Please, carry on.”

You rolled your eyes at his sudden smug expression, trying to look unbothered, but you could feel his eyes on you and you willed your hands to stop shaking. Today was not the day to look like Miranda Sings.

“What’s it called?” Bucky asked from the threshold, spellbound.

“No idea, the label has faded,” you said, rubbing your lips together to smudge your lipstick. “It has probably expired by now, my mom gave it to me when I was a kid.” You blotted your lips and tossed the balled tissue into the wastebasket. “She called it ‘Carter Red’.”

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips. “When we were kids, we used to watch her apply her lipstick. We thought she was the most sophisticated woman in the world. When she was done, she’d turn to us and ask ‘Who wants red lips?’ Then we’d leave the house in our matching red lips.”

Bucky entered the bathroom and took a seat on the edge of the tub. “Did your brothers wear red lipstick too?” he asked with a grin.

You laughed. “Pietro did. Scott was more into nail polish.”

“Do you think I can pull it off?”

You turned to him with a wicked grin and waved your lipstick in his direction. He stood when you took a step closer to him. He seemed to enjoy the playful glint dancing in your eyes. You beckoned him closer like some kind of old witch.

“I’m sure you’d look real cute with lipstick all over your face,” you said, taunting him with your tube of lipstick.

Something in his expression changed, darkened, making you feel hot and cold at the same time. His eyes travelled down your face to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Yeah, I’d really like that,” he spoke so softly you almost missed it.

It was your turn to freeze. You parted your lips to speak but nothing came out, you just blinked hard and stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to explain what that meant. But he never did, and you took a step back.

Did he just...? Did he just try to kiss you? No! No, that’s silly. Why would he want to kiss you? He was just being playful and you simply projected your own desires onto him.

He took a step back too and gave an imperceptible nod. “The car should be here any minute,” he said, smiling. It was a tight smile and you didn’t like it at all. “I’ll let you get ready.”

After he closed the door behind him, you dumped your lipstick back into your makeup bag and took a long look at yourself in the mirror. You looked deflated, miserable. You sighed... the night was off to a great start.

Bucky waited for you while you finished getting ready. You picked up your clutch, slid your feet into a pair of high-heel shoes, and struggled with your cape until Bucky came to your rescue. To your surprise, his smile was genuine again, and it made your heart soar. Maybe you had just misread the situation and he wasn’t upset, offended –or whatever that tight smile was.

The heels were higher than you were used to, but Bucky gave you an arm to hang onto. The sky was already dark when you arrived at the Museum of Natural History. You walked up the stairs and left your coats in the coat-check room before you took a look around the room.

Hundreds of people were milling around the hall, a glass in their hand as they weaved between the jaw-dropping dinosaur skeletons that were on display. You kept your arm linked through Bucky’s and tried not to stare at anyone.

“Be careful,” Bucky whispered in your ear, making you perk up. “Someone once told me that the exhibits come to life after the sun sets.”

“Remind me to stay away from the Biodiversity Hall,” you chuckled. Then you spotted one of the curators you wanted to work with, you let go of Bucky’s arm and squared your shoulders. “Showtime. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, angel.”

“God, I’m sweating. Is it noticeable?”

Bucky smiled at you. “No, you look perfect.”

You gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I hope I won’t make a fool of myself. I hate small talk.”

As soon as you were gone, someone took your place by Bucky’s side. You grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and made your way over to the curator. You didn’t drink alcohol but the glass made you look like you were part of their little group.

It went horribly wrong; you stuttered when you said your name and everything went downhill after that. While you were talking, he subtly looked around to see if he could find a more interesting person to talk to, which made you stutter even more. Then as you opened your clutch and fished out a card, several others fell at your feet in slow motion.

Between the dress, the glass and the shoes, it was practically impossible to bend over. The curator left and you stood there alone.

“Let me help you,” one of the waiters said. He gathered up your business cards and handed them to you.

You sheepishly took the cards and shoved them back in your purse. “Thanks. Can you take this? I’m not going to drink it.”

“Would you like something else to drink?” he asked as he took your glass of champagne.

“No, thank you. I... I think I’m going to go find my friend.”

You smiled politely at the young man but he had a strange look on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“I saw you with Mr. Thomas,” he finally said. “I’m not supposed to talk to the guests but can you tell him I love his work.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Grant Thomas,” the waiter pressed on. “The writer. I saw you two together.” Then he leaned forward and whispered, “He only has one arm.”

Oh...

Grant Thomas was Bucky’s pen name.

Your face broke out into a huge smile and you started giggling to yourself. The waiter recoiled a bit, confused and a little freaked out. You scanned the room for Bucky.

“Of course, I’ll tell him,” you told the waiter. “He’ll be very pleased to hear it.”

You went in search of Bucky, wobbling around in your high heels, a permanent smile on your face. After walking around for a few minutes, you felt more stable and in control, even going so far as to power walk from room to room.

You found him in the Hall of Ocean Life, entertaining a small group of people. You walked over to him, your heels clicking like typewriter keys. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation as you approached.

“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely,” a woman cooed, a hand over her heart. “Who was your inspiration for your new book, Grant?”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly when he saw you. You gave him a small wave and he held out his hand in your direction. He introduced you to the group, and while it was strange to hear him say your name, you kept a straight face.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you, Grant,” you told him, emphasizing his pen name. “I should have known I'd find you in good company.”

“Oh, she’s the painter,” the woman said. “Darling, I hope you don’t mind me saying this but-” she extended her arms in your direction “wow!”

The woman next to her looked half amused, half exasperated. “It means you look beautiful in that dress.”

“Oh, she knows what it means, Sylvia.” The ‘oh’ woman swatted Bucky’s fake arm. “Grant, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Bucky looked at you with a fond smile. “Yes, she is.”

“Oh, my heart is about to explode,” the ‘oh’ woman squealed before enthusiastically waving to someone behind Bucky. “Sylvia, darling, take her contact details. We need new blood at the gallery. Please, excuse me, I haven’t seen Michael in ages,” she said, stretching out the last word.

She was gone before you could comprehend what was happening. Her laughter echoed through the room. Oh, I hadn’t seen the back of that dress! Sweet baby Jesus!

You found her whimsical and quite intense but if you had to work for her, you’d probably end up looking like her assistant, Sylvia, who seemed at her wits’ end.

She sighed and opened her leather-bound notebook. There were several business cards attached to the pages with paperclips. You handed her one of your business cards as her boss shouted, Oh, Michael, isn’t this party deliiightful? It was Sylvia’s cue to leave.

“Thank you. We’ll take a look at your work and get back to you as soon as we can. Enjoy your night.”

Sylvia rushed to her boss who was looking around like a lost puppy. When she saw her assistant, a look of relief crossed her face. It was a little over the top but it made you smile.

“So, Grant Thomas,” you said, planting yourself directly in front of Bucky now that you were alone. “Cute name.”

“Agh, I wanted to tell you before the party but...” He shrugged. “How did you figure it out?”

“One of the waiters saw us together. He’s your biggest fan. Said you were talented, humble and devilishly handsome in that suit.”

“The waiter said that?” Bucky asked with a frown as he led you toward an empty corridor.

“I think he has a crush on you.”

“I seem to have that effect on people,” he said, linking his arm through yours.

“So humble.” You entered the Hall of Biodiversity together. “What’s the meaning behind your pen name?”

There was a small pause before he answered. “Grant is Steve’s middle name, Thomas is Sam’s. I wanted to honor them. Steve literally saved my life, and Sam... well, he stood by my side even when we barely knew each other.”

“I’m sure they were touched.”

“Meh,” Bucky said with a grimace. “Steve said it sounded like a fake name, and Sam tried to make me use ‘Thomas Grant’ instead. I think deep down they like it.” He turned his head to look at you. “How did it go with the curator?”

You cringed. “Just to give you an idea, imagine an amateur magician performing at their first show. I was sweating, I stuttered, and I dropped my cards. It was awful.”

He laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. At least he’ll remember me, right?”

You spent the next couple of hours mingling with a bunch of rich people; most of them were incredibly weird, the others were strangely relatable. You were a lot more cool and collected with Bucky by your side. He always had really nice things to say about you or your paintings, and his words rang true, giving you yet another reason to fall for him.

When you reached the planetarium, Bucky took your hand in his, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder.

You practically had the place to yourselves, everyone else was either in the Grand Gallery or in the Roosevelt Memorial. Since no one was around, you decided to take your shoes off and walk around barefoot.

You lost track of time, listening to Bucky’s stories about the universe as he guided you along the spiralling walkway.

“We’re just tiny little specks living on a bigger speck, floating around,” he said, gazing up at a model of Jupiter hanging from the ceiling. “Our time here is so limited, our bodies are so fragile.”

“Umm,” you hummed. “At least we’re not at the bottom of the food chain.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that would be a bummer.”

“Do you know who’s at the bottom of the food chain?” you asked. “French fries. I’m starving.”

His laughter rang out, loud and clear, in the silence of the planetarium. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You headed for the coat-check room, where Bucky left one of his ridiculously generous tips, and stepped outside, shivering from the cold winter night. You looked up at the stars glistening in the dark sky while you walked the short distance to the fast food restaurant.

You ate your fries in silence as you glanced around the restaurant. It was bright and gave off a friendly vibe. There were several other patrons even though it was almost two in the morning, though you and Bucky were the only ones wearing designer clothes.

Your high heels and clutch rested on the booth next to your hip, and Bucky’s bow tie was tied around your wrist. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a tanned, muscular chest and a smattering of dark hair.

Bucky had removed his prosthetic after you’d found a booth. His fake arm rested on the table, scaring the hell out of the waitress when she came to take your order. Bucky apologized profusely, probably mentally adding another twenty to her tip.

You dozed off in the cab, utterly exhausted, your cheek resting against his shoulder. His arm was draped over your shoulders, his thumb sweeping up and down your collarbone. When you remembered that you still had to remove your makeup before going to bed, you let out a whine and nestled closer to him. He rested his head on top of yours, and you closed your eyes, enjoying his closeness.

A few days later, you told Natasha about the party, and she reminded you to be careful, to protect your heart. She wished someone had given her this advice when she’d met Sam.

It had never occurred to you that Natasha might have feelings for Sam, not because he was an awful person. No, it was quite the opposite. He was handsome and funny, always looking for some kind of trouble. She’d mentioned multiple times that he was really good in bed, which honestly didn’t surprise you.

You knew she liked him, but you didn’t know she liked him.

On your way home, you mulled over the things she had told you. About a block away from your apartment, you took your keys out of your pocket and stared at the little angel keychain, wondering if your feelings for Bucky were real. The line between friends and lovers was definitely blurred but you couldn’t cross it. There was too much at stake, you couldn’t risk ruining your friendship.

As you turned the corner into your street, you spotted someone standing outside the building’s front door. You slowed down, dawdled, so you could observe them.

You couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, though you suspected a man. They were carrying a traveller’s backpack on their shoulders, blocking your view. Whoever it was, they had a fantastic ass.

They pushed the intercom button, waited a few seconds and pushed it again. When the doors remained closed, they turned around to leave and you came face-to-face with a man with long dirty blond hair, a bushy ginger beard and striking baby blue eyes. You immediately recognized him from the photos you’d seen on Bucky’s laptop.

“Oh my God, Steve!” you exclaimed, startling him.

Part 8

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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generalthirst · 3 years

Text

Fever

Fluff with hints of Angst Drabble Word Count: 888 (how'd that happen?) Pairings: General Armitage Hux x Reader Warnings: Slight mentions of past childhood abuse but doesn't go into depth, feels, does this count as hurt/comfort? Summary: Hux has a bad flu and gets sentimental cuz you actually care about him and try to make him feel better. A/N: Felt like writing something with feels tonight so here you go. I've been working on lots of oneshot/ drabbles in the background. As well as the next chapter of Libertatem but I'm being too perfectionist about it and I need to just post it.

You'd been checking up on the general every 20 minutes or so. Most of the time he was asleep, his body hard at work fighting off whatever alien flu he'd contracted. It was rare to see him like this. Still and peaceful, even if his flushed skin was almost as red as his hair. You'd wordlessly change the damp cloth on his forehead and refill his glass with more ice water.

Sometimes he'd be awake and would look up at you with the most pitiful stare. He had lost his voice days ago and his whole body ached with a pain that felt beyond physical. Like every part of his essence was aflame. It was frustrating. How he desperately wanted to not seem weak in your eyes. Having to be helped to the refresher. Spoon fed like some helpless babe. It made him feel worse than this illness ever could. But still you did it all without complaint. Smiling even. His heart nearly melted when you'd offered to wash his hair after so long in bed.

You called to him softly as you entered his quarters. A bowl of soup and a glass of water with his medicine. You smiled and pecked his forehead with a comforting kiss as you sat at his bedside.

"You poor thing." You mused sadly as you took his temperature, still no change. "I can't imagine how miserable you must be Armitage." He only huffed weakly in response as you picked up the soup.

"I waited until it was lukewarm so it wouldn't burn your throat." You scooped up a spoonful but still blew on it a bit out of habit, holding it forward for him to open his mouth and taste it. You smiled softly as he didn't try to fight you on eating today. At the start he'd only wanted to take his medicine but after some convincing that he needed proper food to get well again, he was starting to relent. You sat in comfortable silence, taking small spoonfuls of soup for him before letting him chase it with a cool swig of water. As you picked up the bowl and held out a spoonful for him again, your face suddenly dropped and worry coursed through you.

"Armie, what's wrong?" His eyes looked red and small pools of tears were beginning to well up. His face was pressed into a stern frown, his gaze refusing to meet yours.

Grabbing a napkin you lightly dabbed one tear that had escaped and ran down his cheek before cupping his cheek and making him meet your eyes.

"Is the soup too hot still? Are you in pain?" You asked with more concern, worry etched across your face. It only made it harder for him to choke back a sob. Weakly, he wiggled a hand out from under the covers, plopping it unceremoniously on top of your own, gripping it with what little strength he could muster.

"Fine." He ground out in the lightest of whispers. His voice burned in an attempt to speak, both from the sickness as well as his unchecked emotions constricting his throat.

You waited patiently as he had to pause for a moment. He needed to pick his words carefully so as to limit the use of his voice, but he needed to collect his thoughts as well as he viciously blinked away the tears.

"No one has ever cared so much." A bout of painful coughs racked his body and he knew he'd used too many words. But he'd thrash his voice to bloody shreds if it meant making you happy.

Your concern morphed into relief and you smiled warmly. Albeit there was that glint of sadness in your eye. At first he had hated that. What little he talked of his past, he had hated the feeling of being the recipient of your pity. But once you explained that it was not pity but that you were truly caring, he found it no longer made him angry. At least not in that way. He hated seeing you in pain, even if it was because of reliving his own painful past. That hurt more than any strike from his father. But having someone care that much, enough to cry for his inner child's suffering. It felt… good in a weird way that he still wasn't sure how he felt about. It was still a very foreign feeling to him.

Your hand caressed his cheek and you leaned forward to plant a kiss to his lips. At the last second he turned away, not wanting to risk giving you his ailment. You only grabbed his face with more force and playfully smushed your lips onto his.

"I'm more than happy to take care of you Armie. I love you." You added an extra kiss for good measure. He felt his eyes sting with the threat of new tears and a bittersweet pang in his heart, but he only sighed deeply and nodded. Mouthing those three words back to you. Even so you beamed with love at him saying it to you. He'd gotten more used to it over time but he loved how you still got giddy when he did.

Once he got well again, he vowed to himself, he'd show you just how much he truly loved you.

#star wars #general hux #armitage hux #hux x reader #drabble #thirsty drivel

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inkweaver22-blr · 3 years

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Welcome to lucky chapter 13!

A few announcements before we begin!

First, we got fan art! Shout out to @ooflifeshard for their art of the Jin/Yin/Tang fusion!

Second, I post extra thoughts on my writing process and the chapter in general on my Tumblr! Look up the tag Fanfiction Live Blogging to read them!

Now let’s get on with the story!

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Thirteen: Aspects of Arachnids

The Spider Clan is made up of some interesting people. That includes MK this time.

----------

“So what did you want to talk about Mr. Tang?”

They were taking a walk through a secluded park. Tang had asked to speak with the young man privately once he had woken in this cycle to address a recent memory he had received.

“I wanted to apologize to you, MK,” Tang said. MK tilted his head in confusion.

“What for?”

“For the way I treated you last week.”

MK tensed.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“MK.” Tang turned and placed his hands on MK’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “It’s okay. I know.”

“Know what?” MK was trembling now. He avoided Tang’s gaze, wide eyes darting around as if to look for a place to hide.

Tang gave him a reassuring squeeze and kind smile.

“I know you are the spider demon we saw.”

Last week had been before Tang had woken in the cycle. They had all rushed over to where MK had been fighting a demon alone only to find a spider demon they had never seen before wearing MK’s jacket and bandana while holding the Monkey King’s staff.

The group had, predictably, reacted with hostility. They threatened the demon and attacked him. They hadn’t been able to actually harm him before he got away, and MK had shown up perfectly fine the next day.

Physically at least.

When Tang had gone over the memories earlier this morning, it was obvious to him who the demon actually was. It certainly wasn’t the first time MK was something other than human.

He was also able to see the signs of emotional distress MK was showing over the past week. It was clear that their reaction to his true form was devastating to him.

Tang intended to fix that.

“I didn’t figure it out until this morning,” Tang said when it was clear MK had frozen in fear and wasn’t going to say anything. He pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it right away. You are very important to me and I am ashamed to have made you feel like you were unwanted.”

“You- You don’t mind?” MK clung tightly to the scholar, as if afraid he’d vanish at any moment.

“Of course I don’t. What you are or what you look like isn’t important to me. What matters is who you are and I happen to care about the person you are quite a lot.”

Tang held the young man as he trembled in his embrace. He pulled away after a few minutes, wiping his eyes and giving Tang a watery smile.

“Thank you, Tang.”

“Any time, MK.”

“Do the others know?”

“I haven’t told them anything,” Tang said as they continued their walk. “This is your secret and you should be the one to reveal it when you’re ready.”

“But what if they react like last time?” MK kicked a rock out of his path and seemed to fold into himself. “What if they don’t want to be friends with something like me?”

“First off, that would be pretty hypocritical of them considering both Pigsy and Sandy are technically demons as well and Mei is descended from a dragon. That actually makes me the odd one out in our group as the only human.”

“Huh. Didn’t think of that,” MK said.

“Second, I know they all care about you, MK. I sincerely doubt they wouldn’t be able to look past appearances and see the person we all love.”

“Love?” MK stared wide eyed at Tang.

“I like to think of us as a family,” Tang said. “Even if we aren’t the typical kind, families love each other, and you are a part of that.”

“Family…” MK smiled sadly into the distance. “It would be nice to have more family.”

“There is no ‘would be’ about it.” Tang slung his arm around MK’s shoulders. “We are family and you’re stuck with us no matter what.”

MK gave him a wide grin, leaning into the sideways hug as they continued on their path.

“Aren’t you curious by what I meant by ‘more family’?”

“Of course I am,” Tang said. “But it’s not my place to pry. If you want to talk about that then I’d be more than willing to listen.”

“Oh, well okay,” MK said, perking up a bit. He began to enthusiastically speak about his other family, but never giving any names.

Tang was able to piece together who he was talking about rather easily.

The Spider Queen was his mother. It wasn’t much of a surprise for Tang as she had filled that role for MK in the past, but never quite so literally. From what MK was saying, she seemed to still be that lovingly supportive yet protective type that he had encountered in previous cycles.

The fact that she was a much more active villain in this cycle that MK constantly fought was not addressed.

Huntsman was ‘Uncle H’. He seemed to be the type of person that gave small children lessons on knife wielding just so they could protect themselves. MK had learned all his combat skills in his spider form from him.

Huntsman was certainly a focused and skilled combatant, but, as his many friendships with Sandy across time showed, he also knew how to enjoy the quieter moments in life.

That left Goliath as ‘Uncle G’. The large spider may seem like just a brute who relied on his strength, but Tang had witnessed his soft side a few times. MK spoke fondly of the lullabies Goliath had sang when he was still little as well as his delicious cooking.

Tang wondered how it compared to Pigsy’s creations and mused on how he could try and get a cook off set up.

MK did not speak of Syntax. That made sense as it was still somewhat early in the cycle and the scientist hadn’t really joined up with the spiders until after Demon Bull King’s second invasion.

Tang did his best to recall what he knew about the man. They had been friends and colleagues once in a cycle where they had been professors at the city university.

Syntax could be a bit standoffish to those he didn’t know. Once he warmed up to you though, he loved to go on long tangents about chemistry, biology, and computer engineering. He could also be surprisingly thoughtful, having dropped by several times with an extra cup of coffee on those late nights Tang had been stuck in his office grading papers.

Tang never knew why he started working for the Spider Queen. The scientist had always been a bit ambitious, so he supposed working on something as unique as a serum using bits of the Monkey King’s power was more than enough to sway him.

It was a shame the serum was then used against him and he seemed to lose all memories of his human life.

Tang forced himself back into the present as MK finished up an anecdote about Huntsman and Goliath nearly panicking after MK had fallen asleep in his hiding spot during a game of hide and seek.

“They all sound wonderful,” Tang said once MK had finished.

“Yeah, they are.” MK sighed wistfully. “I haven’t spoken to them in a while though.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… Complicated.”

Tang could certainly understand that considering how they fought each other on a nearly weekly basis.

“Well whatever the reason, it sounds like they care about you just as much as we do,” Tang said. “I’m sure they’d be more than happy to welcome you back into their lives.”

“I know that,” MK said with a huff. “I’m just not sure they'd approve of me being the Monkey King’s successor.”

“I see.”

Tang did see. He had been a part of demon families before and knew how leaving one’s blood to side with an enemy could tear relationships apart. He hoped that wouldn’t happen here with MK.

“In any case, I just hope you know that you have people that care about you and if you ever need help to just ask, okay?”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks Tang.” MK gave him another smile before frowning in thought. “I’m still not sure if I want to tell the others though.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Tang said. “If you aren’t ready then you aren’t ready. I won’t say anything to anyone before you do.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

The rest of the walk was spent discussing lighter subjects such as the latest Monkey Cop movie and which types of noodles were superior.

Tang decided to not bring up his curse this cycle. He knew he could get around the memory seal by simply stating he had a curse but not exactly its effects, but MK already had quite a lot to deal with this time. He didn’t want to add on to that stress with something that couldn’t be fixed.

He hoped that the Spider Clan would come to accept MK as he was, successor to the Monkey King and all. Not just for his sake either, as Tang could already feel four spots slowly opening up in his heart where he kept his love for his family.

It would be hard to bring them into the fold. Much harder than Macaque, the twins, or even the Demon Bull Family.

But Tang was patient.

He would use this cycle to get to know the spiders better. They were already MK’s family this time around.

Perhaps, in time, they could become his as well.

----------

Things went to Hell rather quickly.

New Years went the same as usual, but this time with the added horror of a mutated Macaque.

The shadow demon had been willingly experimented on by Syntax after he had failed to steal the Monkey King’s powers from MK. He now sported an extra set of arms and eyes, had lavender fur, and was in constant pain from the modifications. Wukong had offered him sanctuary, and Macaque had accepted.

MK hadn’t taken it well when he learned that it was his mother who had convinced Macaque to go through with the procedure.

Now something even worse was happening. This was a cycle that not only changed MK’s background, but someone else’s as well.

Lady Bone Demon was much more impulsive this cycle.

She had attacked them all directly this time, before even gathering up the artifacts she needed. They had all been overwhelmed pretty quickly and everyone except MK had been captured. She had then given him an ultimatum.

Give her the Monkey King’s power, or MK’s family would perish.

Lady Bone Demon then ‘graciously’ gave MK twenty four hours to think about it before teleporting away with her captives.

“Hey, where are you taking him?!”

Tang glanced up as he realized that he hadn’t been placed in the same cell as his family. Pigsy and Mei glared at the skeleton guards while Sandy tended to the unconscious Wukong and Macaque.

“Boss only wants five to a cell,” guard one said.

“Hope your friend here isn’t afraid of spiders,” guard two mocked.

Tang blinked at that as the others began to protest loudly. The guards simply laughed and led him away.

Well, he had wanted to get to know the Spider Clan better this cycle, hadn’t he?

After being marched down many winding corridors, Tang was thrown unceremoniously into a different cell.

Tang picked himself up and was confronted with the scowling faces of the Spider Queen and her entourage. They had certainly looked like they had seen better days.

After demanding why he was there, they had dismissed him and went back to trying to come up with a way to escape.

They had mused about eating him for a bit, Huntsman even going as far as to restrain him and brandishing a knife, before Tang had been forced to break his promise to MK. They were skeptical at first, but once Tang began telling the stories he had heard from MK, they believed him.

Spider Queen was emotionally distraught at the thought of harming her baby, but became more resolved than ever to beat Lady Bone Demon once she realized they were being used as hostages against her son.

Huntsman had been a bit more accepting, bragging about how the only reason MK had beaten them so often was from all the training he had given him. Goliath had just asked if he was eating well.

Syntax had been standing off to the side looking uncomfortable before Tang assured him that MK would be more than happy to get to know him.

The Spider Clan had invited Tang into their scheming quickly afterwards. None of their plans were very feasible, but Tang felt his connection to the four grow stronger.

Strange were the bonds you could make when in prison.

Before they could act on any of their plans, the twenty four hours were up and they were whisked away by the magic of their captor.

Tang opened his eyes to find the ten of them suspended in the air by blue ropes as Lady Bone floated in front of them. On the ground was a horrified looking MK.

“Now it is time you choose,” she said. She reached out and grabbed Tang and Spider Queen by their arms, pulling them forwards. “Your powers? Or your family?”

“Don’t listen to her, baby,” Spider Queen called out. “We’ll be fine! Just get out of here!”

“M-mom?!” MK’s mouth had dropped at being recognized.

“Sorry, MK. I broke my promise,” Tang said. “To be fair, your family was planning on eating me before I told them.”

“We said we were sorry about that-”

“ENOUGH!” Lady Bone Demon’s bellow shook the ground. “What is your decision?!”

“I- I can’t-” MK was trembling as he gripped his staff tightly.

“Wrong answer.”

Tang and Spider Queen screamed as they each had one of their arms shattered in her grip. Lady Bone Demon tossed them behind her, the blue ropes re-materializing to bind them as she summoned a large scythe.

“One last chance.” She pulled back the weapon, preparing to strike. “Give me the Monkey King’s power!”

MK roared in rage and seemed to explode into gold, purple, and green light.

Tang gasped in pain as he tried to stay awake. He stared in shock as the light expanded and formed into a giant figure.

Tang had seen the giant form that Wukong would occasionally become to take on much more powerful opponents. Macaque had access to this power as well and so would MK sometimes. It had no official name, but a scroll he had read many cycles ago had described it in a way that Tang couldn’t help but agree with.

Aspects of Destruction.

It resembled MK’s spider form, but with his human half looking more like a monkey’s instead. He had four arms now and each one held a copy of the Monkey King’s staff. The twelve eyes glowed with a burning green malice as they glared at Lady Bone Demon.

Faster than he could blink, Tang watched as MK swung one of his staffs and batted the white demon away from them. MK roared and leapt after her.

The pain from having his bones crushed soon became too much and Tang passed out.

----------

Tang woke up on Sandy’s airship.

He learned it was a few days later. MK hadn’t been able to defeat Lady Bone Demon, but had managed to buy them all the time to escape. They had also managed to pick up Red Son somewhere along the way.

Now, all twelve of them were out of the city looking for a way to defeat her.

The Spider Clan had seemed to integrate easily into their group over the next few weeks.

Spider Queen had already gotten to know Macaque over the course of the experiments, but once Wukong decided to go through the same procedure and gained two extra pairs of arms, she seemed to start flirting with the both of them.

Neither monkey seemed bothered by this and flirted right back.

Huntsman had decided Mei needed proper weapons training with her sword and whenever he wasn’t giving her pointers was drinking tea with Sandy.

Goliath shared cooking duty with Pigsy. The pair gave each other tips and techniques and their meals only became tastier from the collaboration.

Syntax had seemed a bit lost at first, but after completing one of the internet memes MK had quoted, became fast friends with him. He even got to have stimulating scientific discussions with Red Son.

Tang sighed in contentment at dinner one evening as he listened to the conversations around him.

He had never thought he would have longed for a large family, but this just felt right to him.

Tang hoped he would get to experience it more often in future cycles.

----------

The Spider Clan joins the ranks!

I think that leaves only two characters left out of Tang’s family. Considering who they are, I doubt that will happen any time soon.

This chapter takes place in @strange-lace's amazing Spider Monkie AU! It has some great angst and fluff as well as absolutely lovely spider-monkey designs for Macaque and Wukong! Go check it out!

Now technically this AU doesn't have a kaiju form for MK, but I wanted to introduce the concept to the story and it didn't fit anywhere in the coming chapters.

There’s going to be some plot in the next chapter so look forward to it! Until next time!

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yeoldontknow · 3 years

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დ content tag game დ

tagged by the loveliest angel @augustbutwinter to do this fun tag. thank you so much my love!

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)? - harry potter, muse, merlin, supernatural, doctor who, sherlock

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? - kpop only

3. how long have you been writing? on this blog? - my first actual fanfic would have been when i was about 8? it was for sailor moon but it was literally only in a journal i had. i presume that counts. so that would put us at 24 years lmao - on this blog specifically, since april 2017

4. on which platforms do you post your stories? - here and AO3

5. what is your favourite genre to write? - aaaaangst lmao and horror/suspense. i love really dark things, and have always had a fascination in writing things that disturb me? i think its from an analytical or psychological perspective, exploring the limits of humanity and processing for myself why these things make me uncomfortable/where i feel them on my body/what is fear vs disgust idk. also very much enjoy fantasy/supernatural.

6. are you a pantser or a planner? - almost always i have a plan, however there are some fics that come out of nowhere and i just have to write them. examples of this are enough and love; always

7. one shot or multi-chapter? - i usually try very hard to keep things as a one shot, and reserve series for things that actually have substance enough to extend past 3 chapters. lately, all my ideas have been very plot heavy or come from worlds i am very interested in exploring and/or have aspects of emotion i want to work through. if i cant keep it to a one shot (like...under 30k) i will make it a series and ill be angry at myself lmao

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion? - anywhere from 5-9k is a solid, average chapter length for me. some chapters, in hero for example, need to be more than this because theyre the heavy plot chapters. i have been trying not to focus on lengths anymore, just want to write until the story is told

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete? - the longest story ive ever written is 154k in a different fandom and yes its complete. at the moment, hero is breaching 98k and i imagine it will be my longest when its completed

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most? - when it comes to series, hero and time runner will, and always will be, the most special things ive ever done. i feel at home and myself when im writing them. im in love with writing them. the ideas are so strong, and the characters are so loud and clearly defined it just is the best time making art ive ever had. - for one shots, light sakura was truly catharsis. i needed to write that. its the most personal, vulnerable thing ive ever written and will probably never produce something like that again unless theres another major event in my life. also absolutely adored writing molotov cocktail and empty vessels. those are both the easiest 30k ive ever produced

11. favourite request you’ve have written and why (if any?) - brooklyn is burning was technically a request and im extremely partial to it

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories? - oh yeah. usually my female characters are working through bad relationships or finding their voices, seeking identity and power in worlds that dont necessarily provide that. i write what i feel and what ive lived, the worlds around the characters are just exaggerations of reality and my imagination. theres always a little piece of me in my stories, and usually that piece comes down to them learning to trust which is something i struggle with

13. current number of wips? - please i cannot share this number, not when im ashamed of the amount lmao

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? 1. smut is insanely hard for me 2. fluff is almost impossible, and could be considered my weakness. happiness is an external feeling, an outward experience. im a very bodied writer and finding joy or finding small bits of romance is difficult (largely because i live alone) so i will over explain aspects of the idol character or highlight small actions in the effort of holding onto them 3. i am still learning to trust the process

15. a quote you like from a published story.

‘Don’t confuse loyalty with strength,’ you say, as he releases you. You remain still, forehead pressing against the bars to get as close to him as possible. ‘I have no allegiance to you. My silence is not owed to you.’

‘Really?’ he says with disdain. ‘It was given so freely the last two days.’

‘Your ignorance proves you have never truly known a woman,’ you taunt. ‘We are always at war, even if we are silent.’

- from: hero - chapter 3

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

Would it have been easier for you both to survive if you could be a needy, fragile little thing - not ready to die, not ready to leave him on his own?

The night before, Chanyeol held you close, kissed you until your throat felt raw, and made you realize he didn’t want it, didn’t need it. He loved the war in you, handled you like a blade between his fingers, skin unmarred by your sharp edges. He didn’t want it, but you wanted it, at least a little. You wanted him to know there were still traces inside you of the girl you lost.

from: time runner - chapter 7

17. space for you to say something to your readers.

hello beautiful loves. every moment you even click on one of my works an angel gets its wings <3

tagging: @yehet-me-up @kyungseokie @jenmyeons @j-pping @jamaisjoons @yoonia @kithtaehyung @inkedtae @kookdiaries @kookingtae @xiaokoo @sunshinekims @biaswreckingfics @ditzymax @sugaurora @bangtanhome @yeojaa @sahmfanficbts @xjoonchildx @writtenwhalien @jinpanman @cutechim and anyone else who would like to do this <3 as always please only do so if comfy!

#content tag game

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ampleappleamble · 3 years

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The Elf and the Orlan's Wedding

—

"Hey. You'll marry me, won't you?"

Aloth had spent the last five years of his life honing his skills and reflexes in his mission to hunt down and destroy one of the most dangerous cults on the face of Eora, but somehow he still couldn't help but be utterly bested by just a few little words. Axa had a way of doing that– cutting past all his pretense and politesse, punching through all his meticulously constructed defenses with just a few simple words, striking at the very heart of him. It was part of why he loved her, and no small part, either.

He pulled her closer as he attempted to sit up in her spacious sleeping berth, struggling to scrape enough of his brain back together from the one-two punch of vigorous, passionate lovemaking followed up by that question to formulate an answer for her. But despite his best efforts, he found that the best he could manage was a feeble, "I beg your pardon?"

She laughed and nuzzled her face into his chest, his bare skin warm against her brow. She'd known the question would shock him, but she also knew that no matter how carefully she phrased it, there really was no way to ask a man like Aloth a question like that without shocking him. "Sorry to surprise you. But it's something I've been thinking about for a while now," she continued. "After we've arrived back in the Dyrwood and settled a few matters, gotten Caed Nua's reconstruction properly underway, taken some time to recover from all this– there'd really be nothing stopping us." She snuggled closer. "And I know the challenges we'll be facing in this new, uncertain world would feel a lot less daunting with you by my side. So... why not get married?"

Axa paused, then, tensed up in Aloth's arms. "That is, if you'd like to." She lifted her head to look at him, her violet eyes soft and glittering in the lamplight. "Would you like to?"

He studied her face, rosy and gorgeous and full of hope. Her proposal wasn't entirely unexpected– after all, it was only natural that she should want to take their relationship further, especially after all they'd been through together in the Deadfire– but it was still a bit overwhelming, actually experiencing such a thing himself instead of merely reading about it in a novel or watching strangers act it out in a stageplay. His head was swimming, his heart was hammering in his chest, his stomach was fluttering madly– but all the same, he couldn't help but smile at her.

"Of course. Of course I would," he murmured at last, brushing a lock of hair from her brow. "I can think of no greater pleasure."

The tears finally came, welled in her eyes as she beamed up at him. "Oh, Aloth," she whispered, pressing her face into his shoulder and squeezing him tight. "You have no idea how happy you've just made me."

"How happy I've made you?" He laughed, surprised to find himself blinking away tears as well. "I'm to be the consort of the Lady of Caed Nua! The brave, kind, beautiful heroine who uncovered the cause of the Hollowborn Crisis and saved the Dyrwood, the indomitable spirit who defies death and deities alike– and of all people, you want to be mine, to be my– my–"

My bride. Axa. My bride, my love, my wife. The reality of it suddenly struck him with its full gravitas, and an indescribable emotion washed over him. "I love you, Axa. Truly."

Giggles mingled with her sobs, and she scrubbed at her wet eyes with a fuzzy fist. "And I love you," she replied softly. She looked up at him again, grinning. "You'll plan everything, right? I was never very good at that sort of thing."

Aloth sighed, slumping back down against the pillows as Axa cackled. "I should have known," he groaned, shaking his head good- naturedly at his newly-betrothed.

"Yes, you should have," she agreed, spreading out on top of him, making herself comfortable. "Planning a fancy formal event– such as, say, the wedding of a landed thaynu who is returning triumphantly from a world-shaking, death-defying mission in the Deadfire– plays much more to your strengths than to mine. Of course, I'll help as much as I'm able. How about I find us an officiant?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Xoti, then? Or were you thinking of asking Vatnir?"

She paused for a moment, her brow furrowed in consternation. "Gods, are those two the only priests I know?" she muttered, resting her chin again Aloth's sternum, and she sighed. "Typical of me, I suppose, to shun all clergy but the most death-obsessed misfits. Even my resident cleric at Caed Nua was a morose Berathian."

Was. Axa's smile faltered, and she abruptly went quiet, unfixing her gaze, lowering her eyelids.

"Well, given what we know of the gods, is it any surprise our priestly acquaintances gravitate toward the morbid?" Aloth tucked a lock of her burgundy hair behind her ear, let his hand linger on her cheek. He'd noticed the sudden chill in her demeanor– reminded of Caed Nua, no doubt, of her myriad responsibilities back at home, the dead waiting to be buried– and had hoped he could warm her back up a bit, but it appeared that even his wry musings weren't enough to soothe her melancholia.

"We're going to be alright, aren't we?" Axa's voice was soft and serious, and she reflexively curled in on herself, clinging to her lover as she contemplated the future ahead of them. "Kith, I mean."

He wrapped her in his arms, warm and steady, and let out a shaky sigh. "I don't know. With the Wheel destroyed and the cycle of reincarnation stalled indefinitely, we'll certainly have our work cut out for us. But if there's one thing in common between all peoples and cultures on Eora, I would posit that it is our stubbornness." Aloth smiled, ran a hand through her thick, soft hair. "With people like you working to guide and support us, kith may yet learn to band together and channel that indefatigable will of ours into finding an equitable solution for all this mess. In any case, I can't really see us all just... giving up. Especially not after all we've seen, all we've been through."

The two lay together in silence for a while, his hand in her hair, her ear pressed to his heart. It had always fascinated her, how elf hearts beat so much more slowly than orlans'.

"The Elf and the Orlan's Wedding," she murmured.

"I... do hope you're not intending to have me write that on the invitations." He allowed himself a small smile. When she hadn't responded, he was sure he'd failed to cheer her, but maybe he'd conceded too soon?

"It's a children's song," she laughed, propping herself up a bit, "that I was just now reminded of. It's about an elf and an orlan at their wedding, and everyone in attendance is bemoaning the foolishness of such a union. 'She'll outlive you by two centuries, it's a waste of time for you both'... That sort of sentiment."

"Charming," Aloth deadpanned.

"Oh, yes," she chuckled, "very much so. Of course, by the end, the lyrics reveal that the titular elf and orlan are well aware of the vast disparity in their lifespans, but they've decided they love each other too much to let something like that get in the way of enjoying their time together."

He smiled knowingly. "Sounds familiar."

She smiled back. "The moral of the story, of course, is that one cannot waste one's life worrying about what others think, about the 'proper' ways of going about this or that, and that it's better to live in the moment and enjoy what you have while you have it."

"Sounds very familiar," Aloth sighed. "But if kith spend too much energy on enjoying the present, we won't be able to prepare for the troubles of the future until they're upon us."

"Ah, but that's just another reason the title characters chose to marry," Axa grinned. "It's easy to miss the significance when you're a child, but there are a few lines in the song regarding the orlan's horrible estranged family complaining about how the orlan's assets will now be bequeathed to his elf wife upon his death, thus keeping it out of their greedy paws for at least 200 more years, if not forever."

He cocked an eyebrow. "That's not your reason for proposing, is it?"

"No!" She laughed, lightly swatting at his chest with the back of one hand. "Although it'll be damned funny, I have to admit, sticking it to all the little Dyrwoodan lordlings with their eyes on my land who were just planning on waiting for me to die in a few decades." A wicked grin spread across her little face, and Aloth couldn't help but laugh.

"Pray tell, then," he smiled, running a hand up and down her back, ruffling her fur and smoothing it back down, "what exactly is the point you're trying to make by bringing up this song, my dear?"

Axa toyed with a lock of his hair, biting her lip and staring at nothing in particular, before finally admitting: "You know, I'm not sure. I definitely lost the plot somewhere along the line, there. I suppose I was trying to draw some sort of parallel between The Elf and the Orlan's Wedding, and our wedding, and... and the challenges ahead of us all in regards to repairing the cycle of reincarnation... something about planning for the future while still making sure to enjoy the present..." She scoffed at herself, resting her chin on Aloth's breast again. "Maybe I was simply randomly reminded of a silly song from my youth and I'm trying too hard to stretch it to link it to current events. Or I'm just tired and rambling and not making any sense at all."

"No," Aloth assured her, "you definitely had a reason for bringing it up, even if you can't quite articulate why." He stroked the back of her ear, staring pensively at the ceiling. "I think, perhaps, you wanted to reassure yourself that even if some new version of the Wheel ends up never getting built, even if it turns out that the days of kith are truly numbered and our end is inevitable... that doesn't mean you need to mourn every day yet to come as if it's already been lived in vain. As a Chanter, and given the subject we'd been discussing, it's only natural the realization would come to you in the form of a song about marriage."

She snuggled close to him, sighing contentedly. "You see why I want you to plan the wedding?" she murmured. "You make everything make sense."

"I learned it from you, you know," he replied, nuzzling the top of her head. "Funny how that works, isn't it? Like a two-piece puzzle. We complete each other."

"Thought that advice sounded familiar," Axa giggled. "Should listen to myself– and you– more often."

"That's a given." Aloth went to kiss her forehead, and she surprised him yet again by scooting forward and craning her neck to press her lips to his instead.

"What about Engrim?" she whispered sweetly, her smile still brushing his. "He's a priest of Magran. If we kept the booze away from him until after the ceremony–"

"Absolutely not, my love." His breath tickled her nose. "No wedding of mine will utilize a Magranite ceremony, and certainly not one conducted by a lush."

The little woman laughed, pressing her face to his neck. "Come on, I'm running out of priests!"

"You truly can't think of any others?" He kissed her temple, sighing with a mix of contendedness and exasperation at his little bride.

"Well, I do know a certain Glamfellen who's a priest of Wael, but we're not exactly on speaking terms." She tried a wry grin, but it morphed into a grimace halfway through. "Ugh. Not as funny as I thought it'd be. Sorry."

Aloth chuckled. "It's decided, then. We'll have a secular wedding."

"Sounds good to me, actually," Axa replied. "Never had much need of the gods anyway."

—

#pillars of eternity #watcher axa #aloth #short fic #oneshot #that bitch really called me out in the middle of my own story for losing the plot #...it does kinda meander though doesn't it lmao #not sure what i was really going for in the last third there #anyway it's out of my head now and that's what matters #thanks for reading ♡

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jessicanjpa · 3 years

Note

Can you do me a favor and just list some of your favorite Edward headcanons? Maybe one with each member of the fam? I'm in a mood.

I don’t know why this took me so long! I couldn’t decide on the tone I wanted. In the end I decided to stick with happy. Enjoy!

Once Carlisle learned that Edward had played the piano as a human, he literally ran right out the door and bought a piano. (This may have actually been the first time he left Edward alone, so it was a bit nerve-wracking for both of them.) Since it was too risky to have a human come deliver it, he had it delivered to a sham address and carried it the rest of the way home when no one was looking. Edward was grateful, but he was afraid to try his new piano because he had already broken several things around the house accidentally. He didn’t trust his strength. The piano sat there unused day after day, week after week. But one time when Carlisle had gone out to get a few quick errands done, Edward finally inched over to the piano and c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y tried it out. When Carlisle got home that afternoon, he was overjoyed when Edward surprised him with a song. It was the first time Carlisle had ever heard music in any of his houses. In the months that followed, whenever Carlisle was on his way home, Edward would always be sure to sit down and play so Carlisle could hear the music welcoming him home.

Edward and Emmett once surprised Rosalie with a 1925 Rolls-Royce Phantom I (this pic, this chapter).They actually found it in a junkyard—it had been totaled in an accident and a lot of parts were missing and there was a lot of rust, but it was salvageable. Rosalie had a blast working on it. She was already something of an expert on auto maintenance but this was the first time she’d actually gotten to restore a seriously damaged car to its former glory. Edward was in love with the car as well (he had wanted it back in the day but Carlisle wouldn’t let him get it), and they actually worked together on it quite a bit. It was glorious when it was finished. But the first time Rosalie lived away from the family to play married couple with Emmett, she sold it. She and Emmett had somehow managed to get into debt and they needed the money. Edward was furious, or more accurately heartbroken. He loved that car, and although he would never admit it, working with Rosalie on it so long had been really special. Years later, when he was down in the dumps about something or other, Rosalie managed to trace the buyers and bought the Phantom back to surprise Edward with it. At first he thought it was just a random Phantom but when he looked under the hood, he realized with a shriek that it was the same one. She was all “It’s nothing—” but he grabbed her and spun her around and they took a long drive together and reminisced. That was a good day.

Before Jasper came along, Edward was Emmett’s de facto assistant in modifying sports equipment for vampire use. During their world travels in the early ’40s, they got really interested in soccer for the first time. The challenge was a tough one: how to make the ball still usable without it being light enough to fly out of state every time someone kicked it. They didn’t have a permanent home at the time, so they rented a big warehouse and like… filled it with soccer balls and all sorts of research equipment and materials so they could keep experimenting without a break. Rosalie didn’t see either of them for nearly two weeks because they barricaded themselves inside the warehouse. In the end, they had to burn down the whole operation because they would never be able to explain away the hundreds of ball-shaped indentations scattered along the walls and ceiling. That and the 4,327 deflated, incinerated, melted, and generally deformed soccer balls inside.

Alice was feeling a little depressed on October 5, 1957. For the first time (not counting the false start in Calgary), she was going to high school with Rosalie, Emmett, and Edward. She was so looking forward to making human friends and participating in human rituals and laughing at human jokes… and it all came to nothing. She was especially bad at playing human in these early years, and the harder she tried, the more her peers backed away. She’d also had no idea how boring school could be. And after the first few weeks, Rosalie was grumpy and had no patience for Alice’s attempts at enthusiasm. Alice just felt really let down; going to school, with Rosalie especially, was one of those things she had been looking forward to during her years of waiting. But it was turning out to be a flop. So Edward decided to do something to cheer her up. He bit the bullet and suggested they join an after-school club together. Alice perked up right away and dragged him over to the big bulletin board that held all the information about the various clubs. In the end, they never found one to stick with, but they had a good time trying out the possibilities. Edward enjoyed glee the most and Alice’s favorite was art club. They always felt isolated from their human peers, but at least they had each other.

I think I’ve written about this before, but Jasper really loves to be near Edward when he’s playing piano. The whole family enjoys the music, but Jasper can feel this sort of… emotional symphony when Edward plays. There’s a predictable “journey” that he feels with each of Edward’s favorite pieces, so for certain ones Jasper will come downstairs whenever he hears Edward start playing. He’ll bring his book or whatever hobby he’s working on, or he’ll just sit there on the carpet and close his eyes, letting Edward’s deep concentration carry him along. The stakes are higher when Edward is composing; the emotional high when a new phrase writes itself is incredible, but there’s always a risk of frustration and sudden anger at any given moment. Jasper sticks to him like glue if the muse is flowing, but he’s got one eye on the nearest exit. Still, Edward knows what to play when Jasper is having a bad day.

Edward wrote Esme’s favorite song (the one mentioned in Midnight Sun) in 1978. He was tinkering with another composition, feeling a little stuck, when he got distracted by a cute little moment between Carlisle and Esme upstairs. Carlisle was in his office, working at his desk, and Esme was hanging up one of her paintings on the opposite wall. It was one of those “a little to the left, no MY left, wait now a little to the right” moments, and it ended with Carlisle reaching around Esme with both arms to “help” her adjust the painting. There was just something about the domesticity of that moment and how Esme was hanging her painting just inches from one of those horrid vampire paintings that Carlisle insisted on keeping around, and the way it dissolved into dorky teasing and hair kisses and snorted laughter… Edward was just struck by the beauty of the love that Carlisle and Esme shared. He thought about how that love was carrying the whole family through what otherwise could have been a dark, monotonous eternity. His fingers shifted keys without his even thinking about it, and the song was born.

#inbox #tale of years #edward #cullens #tried to put in plenty of musical moments for you!#headcanons

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eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

dazed bees to honey

Pairing: Shisui Uchiha / Sakura Haruno

Rating: T

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

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

_____________________________

He’s off the mission roster for two weeks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The last place he wanted to go was the hospital.

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

“Get out of my office.”

“Hokage-sama—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought she was a medic.”

Genma snorted.

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

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

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

Sakura smiled, and loosened her shoulders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprising Shisui, Sakura rolled her eyes good naturedly.

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

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

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

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

Shisui’s eyebrows shot up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sakura giggled and Shisui drowned in it.

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

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

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

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

“It’s applesauce, idiot.”

“Huh?”

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

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

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

He looked at her blankly.

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

“Would you like it if I did?”

“Well apparently someone needs to civilize you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sniffed at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who breaks bones during a spar?”

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

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

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

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

“Making food with Kaa-san.”

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

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

Shisui laughed and Sasuke quirked his lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hn.”

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

“Tch,” Sasuke responded.

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

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

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

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

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melanated-maddy · 3 years

Text

TYTON

Hey welcome to this fan fiction. I recently finished war storm and I’m in love with Tyton. Couldn’t help but want to right a fic after seeing so little on this guy on tumblr. Don’t know if I’ll write more as got exams but if you like let me know! All characters and world and everything belongs to the queen herself Victoria Aveyard

Chapter 1

“Debark, debark, debark.”

Tyton was snapped out of his musings pale fingers still gripped against the fading cover of his book. They’d finally arrived back in Ascendant after another long plane journey. A year after the kingdom of Norta was officially dissolved with Cal’s abdication there was still unrest with the Silvers. Too many houses had attempted to feel comfortable on the sparkling throne. ‘Osanos says water comes after fire, Rhambos is taking strength and power a little too literally and Merandus is trying hard to distance themselves from the insanity their own brought forth in Maven and actually claim the throne. At least there’s no more Samos worries. That ship sailed or should I say smashed along with Volo’s head with his offspring are safely tucked away in the capital.’ The soldiers on the plane had started their move off some in a rush to get home to worried families and others ready to have a drink. Davidson was the closet family Tyton had after his own lost their lives to a raid. His mother, father and two younger brothers all gone in an instant. That instance was the first time Tyton’s ability was able to properly manifest. Properly surge. Properly show how dangerous he was. It was Davidson who found him when searching the wrecks of homes and families. Still holding his brother’s Aeon’s hand tears in his eyes. Davidson was always quiet even back in those days and knelt to Tyton’s small height hugging him close. After that day Davidson properly set about burying the family well allowing Tyton to grieve and giving him another place to call home. He’d never admit it, but Tyton was lucky...relieved that Davidson and Carmadon took him in. Even if those raiders who had taken his family from him deserved his rage, he was terrified of the lightning under his skin. With a huff, Tyton uncoiled his long body from his seat standing and stretching up to remind his muscles of their function. The suit he wore was dark not one of the traditional Montfort green it just would not do for some missions. Under his seat he pulled free the small bag carrying a bottle of water, bag of nuts and stored the book into it securely. It was the last thing he’d received from his parents and even so he still struggled to get through it properly. As Tyton turned to move out the aircraft door onto the tarmac he spotted Mare struggling to reach an overhead compartment to grab something. He quickly moved forward and grabbed hold of two items: a maroon scarf and backpack.

“Thanks.”

“No worries I’m always available to help the vertically challenged.”

Mare’s face turned into a vivid shade of crimson and she moved as if ready to punch his arm when Cal swung his head back into the cabin. He seemed exasperated which quickly shifted to a swift glare as his eyes settled on how close the two were.

“Tyton.”

“Cal.”

“Mare what's taking so long?”

“Difficulties getting the scarf and backpack you decided to thrust into the overhead bin. As well as being ready to obliterate string bean here.”

Tyton gave a chuckle, although he was slightly leaner than Cal a string bean he was not.

“Don’t worry just helping her out she’s still yours, your highness.”

Cal bristled with the label, but Tyton was already strolling out onto the blinding tarmac doused in bright light.

As he got his bearings about himself, Tyton could not help feeling the pulses of electricity going off in every person around hims body. Just as you could imagine different emotions and thoughts had different electric compositions. As people moved around he recognised stress signals, pulses of joy and shifts of concentration. The signals never went away but with time he’d found away to keep them working in tandem with him so he didn’t get overwhelmed.

“Tyton come on rides here.” Rafe called his hair in the sun giving the appearance of green flames.

Tyton walked to the transport, long legs eating up the distance in a few moments to be face to face with Rafe. Ella must’ve caught a different one as the storm addict’s blue hair was no where to be seen. Together the two walked towards Davidson who was speaking to Arezzo in hushed tones. With a nod she was dismissed walking instead of jumping to wherever she needed to go. Davidson turned to the two a smooth smile on his face and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a quick trill.

“Rafe!”

A blur of orange smashed into Rafe’s chest holding him tightly as he clutched her back.

Laughing Rafe greeted her, “Iz, nice to see you too, but you’re crushing me.”

With one last tug, Izelle released her older brother a wide grin tugging on her lips as she looked up at him. Izelle, was Rafe’s little sister by a year who shared his dark brown skin smooth and even and bright smile. In her orange dress that spun around her knees and black combat boots, she giggled letting her hair of tight curls circling her head move slightly held back with an orange band.

“Is it wrong for me to have missed my dumb big brother? Am I wrong Tyton?”

Tyton smiled and shook his head as Rafe glared at him.

“So nice to know that it won’t be a strongarm that gets me but my sister’s choke hold.”

Iz shoved Rafe as he rolled his eyes and moved to put his bags in the transport while Iz turned to greet Tyton.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

And with that Tyton opened his arms and Izelle moved into them giving him a tight hug.

‘Her hugs are always great.’

“Thanks for looking out for Rafe. I’m one hundred percent sure he’s not dead somewhere because of you.”

A deep rumble erupted from Tyton as he shook his head. They walked to the transport as Tyton asked how she’d been.

“All good here finally ready to move onto the fourth arc only two more to go before I’m a qualified teacher of education.”

“That’s excellent. You’ve worked hard for it.”

“Yeah it’s been so long definitely the hardest thing I’ve faced, but it’ll be so worth it once I’m in a class with little guys.”

“Do you know what specialism you’ll take yet Izzy?”

In Montfort, classes were not segregated at all with children of all blood types getting the same education to the best standard they could. Those who were Ardent or Silver has supplementary classes to help in coming into their abilities. However, it was courtesy for teachers at normal school to specialise in understanding one blood type well so that support chains could be used in school for any student struggling.

“I’m not sure yet to be honest. I’ve still got to think, might swing for Ardent or Red they’ve already got lots of silver specialists.”

Tyton liked listening to Izzy speak. Her mind although more hyperactive than most was one he enjoyed feeling the thrum of. She would be an excellent teacher one who was fun and silly, but able to understand and be serious when needed. For all her loudness Rafe often called her the thunder to his lightning. As Izzy spoke she tended to often get enthralled by her words and lost her bearings of where she was. So much so she didn’t see a smaller transport squealing into her path. In seconds Tyron had pulled her back allowing the small buggy to rush past on its was.

“Izzy.”

“Ha sorry about that. Forgive me.”

And with a smile, all was forgiven.

“Come on Rafe is definitely going to start a mood if we don’t hurry up,” and with that she pulled his arm to the transport releasing him to clamber up and take a seat next to Rafe. For all the bickering and teasing they did the two siblings loved each other dearly. They had sought refuge in Montfort from the Piedmont principalities with their mother. The two remembered little about their original home as they had left so young, but the happiness Montfort gave them was all they needed. Forgetting all about her conversation with Tyton, Izzy poked Rafe to tell her all about Norta and what things they’d encountered. Izzy had never left Montfort. She was definitely not a soldier, barely remembering to tuck in her thumbs properly when punching Rafe and the Ardent abilities had only passed to him so a useful electricon on the battlefield she was not. The ride to Ascendant was bumpy, Davidson muttering about looking into the concrete and upkeep of the infrastructure when back home. The air rushed in as they sped across the landscapes moving closer to the capital with every second until the transport stopped in a quick halt. The stop was so fast Izzy almost span out of her seat if not for Rafe and Tyton’s arms coming to forth to stop her fall.

“What’s going-“

Davidson was cut off when a terrible crunch sounded off. Leaning forward, he could see one of the transports being crushed the metal casings crumbling against each other. Without a thought Davidson threw out a shield glowing blue in the setting sun surrounding the two vehicles.

“Raiders already?” Rafe hit his head against the seat in frustration before moving out of the car to help passengers in the afflicted vehicle. Tyton quickly went about feeling how many Raiders were out there without being told.

“10, all seems to be magnetron. 3 females, 7 males. Wait they’re leaving?”

“Leaving?”

“Yeah moving away.”

Davidson heaved a sigh, “Radio in for some teleporters for the wounded.”

“They’re already here.” Tyton looked out seeing that those badly injured were being jumped back. Being so close to Ascendant meant the teleporters could make the jump.

“Alright then, destroy that transport don’t leave anything of use behind for them.”

With that, Tyton moved to the transport now empty and absentmindedly called forth a storm preparing for a powerful bolt. The skies darkened as his storm came into existence. Davidson let the shield down for a moment to let the bolt come through. In a fraction of a second, a burning bolt of lighting came down from the sky smashing against the transport reducing it to dust and scorched earth. The air singed with crackle as the fire wreck obliterated. Tyton surveyed the scene inspecting the damage to see if it was at a high enough level to not be useful to a magnetron. Being happy with it he turned and started to walk back to Davidson and Izzy, Rafe already sitting in his seat. He was laughing at Izzy as she covered her ears wincing at the terrible sound of the lightning on metal. It was a sound not comfortable for most ears, but Tyton’s power was unheard of in an Ardent. He was different to the other electricons being able to handle electricity more naturally than even them. It didn’t take much for him to call a storm bolt of that magnitude. As he was within a few metres of the transport he suddenly felt a barrage of electrical energy moving towards them. Recognising it as the previous magnetrons he turned to quickly release brain lightning on them being able to drop 4 of them before one let off a spike. Moving out of the way he could do, but the spike still got him in the side forcing him to the ground. Davidson’s shields again went up and Tyton was pulled into the transport as it began to drive away with Davidson’s shields still up. Izzy clambered towards him pulling apart his suit to get a better look at the cut. Her hand pressed down hard as she told Rafe to get the medical kit under the seat. Tyton grasped onto her had holding it down as he grimaced from the pain. “You’re fine it’s only a scratch.” Izzy nervously laughed.

“Of course because scratches produce this much blood.”

“Shut up big baby. I’ve met toddlers tougher than you,” she grinned and Tyton smiled back focusing on her electricity and letting it calm him down in the transport racing back to Ascendant.

#red queen #tyton jesper #rafe #mare barrow #cal calore #montfort #silver #war storm #fanfiction #electricon #black girl #oc

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ace-oreos · 3 years

Note

You must be so sick of alpha and Fordo asks but you’re latest fic has given me angst potential- maybe a one-shot with alpha working with the bad batch to find Fordo post order 66 an him just breaking at the seams when he finds his Vod because he thought he lost Frodo like he lost Sev. Tears and man hugs ensue

Oh I am NEVER sick of Alpha and Fordo asks - they’re such a fun chaotic duo to write for. :D Also, Alpha working with the Bad Batch is something I never knew I needed until I saw your ask and I would absolutely write something with all of them again. I cannot express how difficult it was to not go off on a tangent about Hunter.

In true Sev style, I chose Kashyyyk as the main location for this one. It’s just so useful for these kinds of things.

Also. Y’all. I did not realize until I was four pages into this that I forgot Echo. So uh... whoops? 😅 😂 With that in mind, let me warn you that this is WAY longer than the other fics. I have no idea what happened. I have no idea what I’m doing.

Also also, thank goodness for Wookiepedia lmao

Edit with tags: @dudewhynotthis @merspots @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @delta-the-mando (taglist is open!)

“Captain.” The sergeant keeps his distance even now, face inscrutable as he surveys Alpha.

“Alpha,” he corrects half-heartedly, more for the sergeant’s sake than his own.

“Alpha,” Hunter amends. “We’ll be entering the Mid Rim soon - maybe an hour, hour and a half tops.”

“Good to know.” Alpha knows he sounds despondent at best, but he’s hit enough dead ends by now to know all too well this will likely be a fruitless endeavor. There’s nowhere in the galaxy safe from him - not when his brother’s life is hanging in balance.

But it’s a big galaxy, with little regard for individual yearning or emotion. Alpha can vow to upend the galaxy as much as he likes, but the fact is they’ve only so much time, and only so many resources, and...

And maybe Hunter picks up on that, in that way of his as he observes Alpha without further comment. The sergeant is as much his vod as anyone else Alpha has encountered. Still beyond him sometimes, a little too other for Alpha to ever fully mesh with him or his brothers, but he’s a good soldier. A good man.

“We’ve always got room for another,” are Hunter’s parting words as he makes his way back to the cockpit.

If you find out your brother was dead all along.

Alpha doubts it was anything less than a genuine offer, but it isn’t the only route. Not until I’ve exhausted every other option. And even then....

It doesn’t do, to let himself become so intertwined with a brother until he isn’t entirely sure he knows who he is without the other. He’d tried, both for his brothers and for his own peace of mind, to put a stop to it before it went too far. And maybe that was Jango getting in his head more than Alpha ever should have allowed, but he’d thought it was the right thing to do.

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder...

________________________

“ - you know as well as I do we’ve been going in circles for weeks now - ”

“Yeah, you might’ve mentioned that once or twice…”

“You said it yourself - we’ll get ourselves killed if we aren’t careful.”

“So we’ll be careful.” Hunter’s voice holds a note of finality. “We can keep rehashing this conversation, or we can help a vod.”

Alpha doesn’t catch the muttered reply, but it’s hardly amenable, if Hunter’s sigh is anything to go by. He can’t blame them, really - Fordo isn’t their brother, and outside of combat they’ve little common ground. And it’s only natural for Crosshair to raise the questions none of them are yet ready to face. Alpha thinks he could learn to like the man, given time.

He reigns in his thoughts before entering the cockpit. The least he can do is put on a rational front. This whole thing isn’t at all rational, but the Bad Batch seem to understand better than others. It runs deeper than brotherhood here, whatever it is, and Alpha is irrepressibly reminded of Fordo, somehow -

(And osik, does that thought burn, dig under his skin to remind him once again that he failed, that should he redeem himself it will be not on his terms but likely an inconsequential whim of a galaxy that cares nothing for them or everything they’ve fought so hard to hold on to - )

“Y’know, I’m not sure we’ve ever been to Kashyyyk,” Wrecker muses. “That’s a first.” If he’s trying to divert Alpha’s attention from Crosshair, it’s a skillful effort that almost takes Alpha aback. “‘Course, I only remember the fun parts,” he adds as an impish afterthought.

“Anything with explosives, you mean?” Alpha asks drily.

Wrecker grins. “Something like that.”

You and Fordo would get along fine.

What leaves his mouth is, “I don’t suppose anyone has any relevant information about this place?”

Right on cue, Tech pipes up from his position alongside Crosshair. “Actually…”

Tech is just as much of an efficient distraction in his own right. It’s not exactly the height of strategy on Alpha’s part, but once again it redirects attention. He has no doubt Hunter sees right through it; still, the man has enough tact to refrain from commenting.

You understand, I think, Alpha decides, watching exasperation and amusement play across Hunter’s face in turns as his brothers’ bickering fills the cockpit. You would go to hell and back for them, wouldn’t you, Sergeant?

Hunter casts him a wary glance. Alpha holds his gaze.

There’s too much we can’t say. It’s okay, vod - I think I’m starting to understand too.

________________________

Kashyyyk is dishearteningly vast, all sprawling jungles and endless island chains set on a swath of ocean that dissects the planet’s hemispheres. Getting in was no easy task, what with the Imperial blockade cutting off the planet from others in its sector. But Tech’s adroit piloting had come through, and they’d slipped past the blockade with little disturbance.

“You really think your buddy is here?” Crosshair asks dubiously, surveying the area with a distinct air of displeasure.

“I’ve seen the records,” Alpha says, as much to reassure himself as the other man. “The Empire’s tighter with the book-keeping, I’ll give them that. Fordo’s unit lost contact not long before Order Sixty-six went down. If they made it out, it would be on record somewhere.”

“And if they didn’t?”

Alpha battles his temper into submission before replying. “Then they would be confirmed KIA. But they’re still listed as missing as of two weeks ago.”

“Sounds like you’re leaving an awful lot to chance,” Crosshair opines. There isn’t malice in his voice so much as an unmistakable note of disapproval. “What’s your plan if it turns out they were just waiting for reinforcements and pulled out days ago? That leaves us here in the heart of Imperial occupation.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Alpha says grimly. “But if they lost comms before the order came through, then there’s a chance they aren’t with the Empire. Their main focus would be survival, not falling in line nice and neat like Palpatine expects.”

It’s clear there are a number of objections rising to the forefront of Crosshair’s mind, but the man keeps them to himself. There’s a conflict brewing there, Alpha knows, but that’s a matter to address at another time.

“There’s an area south of here where all comm signals go dead,” Tech announces, tapping furiously at the device mounted on his vambrace. “According to intel, the Wookies call it the Black Forest.”

“Sounds inviting,” Hunter says. “What’s the deal with it?”

“A prison ship crashed there centuries ago,” Tech relays. “The Wookies believe it’s cursed, so they avoid it whenever possible. It’s possible Fordo and whoever was left were driven back by the Seps - or it was a desperate bid and he was banking on the droids not following somewhere they can’t maneuver well. But why cut himself off from allies…?”

“The forward operating base was set up in Kachirho,” Alpha muses aloud “There was another commando squad deployed here, but they were retasked shortly after Order Sixty-six. If Fordo’s here, I doubt he would hang around anywhere with high Imperial activity.”

If he were operating alone, the decision would be simple. But he has the welfare of four other men to consider now; one wrong move, and they’ll all end up on the business end of a blaster.

With that in mind, Alpha looks to Hunter. “Sergeant. What do you think?”

“It’s your call,” Hunter answers. “If you have reason to think your brother is hiding out here, then I think it’s worth taking a look. So long as we go careful, I don’t see why the Imperials should notice us.”

Wrecker’s chuckle fills the comms. “Famous last words.”

_________________________

For all that they have a reputation for being unorthodox - a reputation that is doubtless justly earned - the Bad Batch can pull off stealth pretty well, too. It comes as a bit of a surprise, if Alpha is being honest, but if nothing else the overarching threat of Hunter’s wrath is enough to keep them in line.

“Keep an eye out for slavers,” Tech warns. “The whole planet has been a hotspot for them ever since the CIS first let them in.”

It’d be just our luck to run into slavers, Alpha thinks wryly. Individually they’re not much of a threat, but a group of Trandoshans spells trouble for anyone. Even without the training to back it up, their brutality can overpower even an ARC trooper. ‘Course, it’d be just like you to get into a mess like that, Fordo…

“We’ll be a bigger target if we travel as a group,” Hunter says.

“If we split up we might as well ask for a death sentence,” Alpha cautions. Typically his first choice would be to operate alone, but between the slavers, the Imperials, and the remnants of the Separatist forces, he’s starting to think their strength might lie in numbers this time.

Alpha mulls it over. Greater numbers means slower going. If we split up, we’ll be able to cover more ground. It’ll be risky, but - payoff is worth it.

“We’ll move faster this way,” Hunter says, echoing Alpha’s thoughts. “Wrecker, Tech, you’re with me. Cross…” He fixes his brother with a stern stare. “Don’t do anything stupid. Alpha has my full permission to stop you by any means necessary.”

Alpha rewards the sergeant with a wolfish grin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He can’t read Crosshair half as well as the others, but the sniper doesn’t appear altogether displeased. He merely shrugs when Alpha jerks his head towards the route they’ll be following, and trails after him without argument.

Silence lays thick over the jungle. There’s an odd rustle here and there, interspersed with faint growls from time to time, but progress is relatively smooth. Alpha takes pains to remain on guard; just because he can’t see a threat doesn’t mean they’re in the clear.

Before long the silence is disconcerting. Given the planet’s Wookie population, there should be regular movement around them, or some sign of existence. But this stretch of the jungle is oddly lacking.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Crosshair mutters.

“Guess no one’s home,” Alpha answers absently, scrutizining the terrain. “Look - there’s no sign of a fight. Maybe no one was here to begin with.”

“Kachirho isn’t too far from here,” Crosshair points out. “You don’t think it’s a little odd that this path hasn’t been used at all?”

“It is,” Alpha allows, “but look at it this way. We’re traveling the way we’ve been trained to in this kind of setting. The Wookies probably have their own methods for getting around.”

“It’s still weird,” Crosshair decides. “And if your brother really was here, we’d have found evidence of that, too.”

He isn’t wrong, but it nonetheless stings to hear the man voice the doubtful thoughts that have been creeping up on Alpha. Still, we’ve come this far. What have we got to lose?

(More than he’s willing to surrender. But Crosshair doesn’t need to know that.)

“Let’s keep moving,” Alpha says, sharper than he intends.

“Hang on,” Crosshair says suddenly. “Contact - ”

Alpha pivots in time to see a Trandoshan emerge from the surrounding foliage. The lizard is taller and more solid than he previously anticipated; instead of hitting it head-on like he initially planned, Alpha redirects in order to avoid being gutted on the lizard’s knife.

He hears the shot and the telltale thump of the lizard falling to the ground. As Alpha picks himself up, Crosshair scans the area through the scope of his rifle.

“Oh, shab,” the sniper hisses.

It doesn’t take long for Alpha to locate the cause of Crosshair’s disgruntlement. A group of Trandoshans lurches towards them. Alpha does a rapid assessment: each lizard is packing some sort of ranged weapon - including slugthrowers, he notes unenthusiastically - and most are carrying an assortment of knives.

“Ideas?” Crosshair asks tersely.

“They’ll just follow us if we run,” Alpha says. “It’ll save us trouble in the long run if we take them now.”

“I can see why Hunter likes you,” Crosshair says, oddly nonchalant considering the circumstances, and fires.

With Crosshair covering ranged attacks, Alpha elects the more up-close-and-personal option. The slavers have the advantage of size, but Trandoshans aren’t renowned for their intelligence. As long as he stays in motion the risk of having his throat slit is greatly reduced.

Alpha targets a straggler first. He hits low, knocking the lizard off balance and sending it staggering into another. The other makes a grab for him, but Alpha is already ramming his vibroblade into the first slaver’s exposed neck. Using the limp body as a buffer, Alpha pushes against the other lizard, trying to force it onto its back foot.

Just as he feels his opponent’s defense start to give, another three descend on him. Cursing, Alpha throws himself aside before they can hem him in. One of the slavers has enough presence of mind to bring his knife down on Alpha’s unprotected back; the force of the blow has him crashing to the ground.

Alpha scrambles for a foothold, but one of the lizards seizes his leg in a vicelike grip. He writhes instinctively, kicking out with his other foot. He feels the impact more than sees it and wrenches himself free.

Just as a third lizard fills the other’s place, there’s a crack from Crosshair’s rifle, and the lizard topples. Alpha springs to his feet to avoid being crushed by several hundred kilos of Trandoshan. The others are wary now, trying to divide their attention between him and Crosshair.

Alpha doesn’t give them time to choose. This time he uses his blaster to put a round through the closest target. It’s not quite enough to put the lizard out of commission entirely, so he follows up with a quick succession of bolts.

It’s not exactly an even match, but things aren’t going as badly as he first feared, Alpha thinks. No sooner does the thought cross his mind than his helmet flashes a warning. He turns to deflect the attack coming from behind, but he moves too late and steps directly into the strike.

The slaver’s curved knife skids off Alpha’s breastplate and sinks into his bodysuit in the gap between the cuirass and the shoulder bell. Alpha manages to pull away, but not before the knife catches the underside of his arm and slices a gash halfway down his bicep.

A line of pain sears through his arm. There’s no doubt the Trandoshan cut deep into the muscle. That arm is effectively useless now; Alpha grimly switches his knife to the other hand.

He doesn’t have eyes on Crosshair from his current position, but the rasping breaths and occasional curses over the comms suggest the sniper isn’t having an easy time of it either. Time to fall back and reassess.

“Let’s pull back. We might be able to lose them.” Alpha bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a hiss of pain when his wounded arm is jostled. “We can’t take them now, at any rate.”

“You might want to rethink that, alor’ad…”

Crosshair jerks his head to indicate the slavers pouring into the area. There’s a slim chance they’ll be able to slip by, but not without risking serious injury. Slowing down to accommodate a bad hit would mean certain death or capture.

Pinned down. Shabla brilliant.

Alpha makes an effort to keep his rapidly rising alarm in check. “We’ll have to hold them off, then.”

“There’s no way,” Crosshair objects. “We’re outnumbered eight to one.”

Alpha sends a slaver sprawling rather than answer. He can see it as plainly as Crosshair, but he’s not going to lay down and die, not when his brother is still out there somewhere, not when there’s still a chance they could pull this off -

He hasn’t been this close in weeks and it isn’t his place to gamble anyone else’s life but his own, but even now he can’t bring himself to give in and he understands in a sudden flash of clarity that this is where he will always fail - because he has a foothold, now, and even though all logic points to turning back for once he can’t give in -

An arm clamps around his neck. Alpha thrashes, trying to throw his attacker off, but now that he’s been caught off guard the lizard has an advantage. His vision begins to blur at the edges and he redoubles his efforts, fueled in no small part by panic at being unable to draw breath.

He doesn’t know where Crosshair is anymore. He can hardly see beyond his own hands, scrabbling desperately at the arm locked around his neck.

No sooner does his vision begin to fade than the crushing pressure on his neck abruptly loosens. Alpha hits the ground gracelessly, coughing violently as he tries to inhale. His breath rattles in his throat, but his vision gradually returns.

He lurches to his feet and assumes a defensive stance as best he can. He’s lost track of how many slavers are still standing - too many is his best estimate.

But the man standing before him isn’t an enemy. He’s -

“Vod,” Fordo says softly.

Alpha can only stare at his brother in stunned silence, momentarily deaf to the ongoing struggle around them. Fordo....

“Later,” his brother promises.

______________________

“So how’d you end up running with them?” Fordo asks with a nod towards the Bad Batch.

“It’s complicated,” Alpha says lightly. “Too much to unpack now, at any rate.”

Fordo laughs. He’s battered and weary, with something lurking in his gaze Alpha can’t quite decipher yet, but it’s Fordo, and that’s more than enough.

“It’s quiet here,” Fordo remarks. “I like that.”

“‘S nice,” Alpha agrees.

They’re still hovering just above the surface. Tentative. It’s not exactly what Alpha is accustomed to, but for Fordo’s sake he lets his brother take the lead.

“Everything’s gone sideways, hasn’t it,” Fordo says suddenly.

“It has,” Alpha admits. There’s no use pretending otherwise. “But we’ll find a way through.”

Fordo flashes a small smile. “You’re good at that.”

Alpha merely shrugs. There’s a thousand other things he wants to say, but he hasn’t the faintest clue where to begin. Finally he ventures carefully, “Y’know, for a while now I thought this mission did you in.”

Fordo lets out a long sigh. “I was starting to think it might, myself.”

“I…” Alpha breaks off, startled by the sudden pressure behind his eyes. It worsens when he tries to continue. “I don’t know what I would’ve - ”

He falters again. I care more than I should. I never should’ve let that happen, but even now I don’t know if I regret it.

“Alpha,” Fordo says softly, and pulls him into an embrace.

Alpha doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally disentangles himself from Fordo as gently as he can and scrubs at the hot trails on his face. He can’t quite bring himself to feel any shame over it. He’s never been given to such displays, but… Fordo is his vod.

“So what’s the plan, alor’ad?” Fordo asks with a familiar note of mischief in his voice.

Alpha smiles despite himself. “It’s a big galaxy.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” Alpha laughs. “We have time.”

#alpha-17 #alpha 17 #captain fordo #the bad batch #bad batch #clone force 99 #the clone wars #star wars #fic prompt #thanks for the prompt!#this was really fun #and i would absolutely write for them again #hunter specifically but shhh #if you make it through this post good on you lmao #my askbox is open!

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first-and-last-neocount · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 4

This is it. The big one.

This is the all-devouring AU that has now eaten nearly half of my Whumptober fill ideas. It’s a scenario I’ve carried in my brain for years, and when I initially looked through the prompt list this year and decided to write for it, my brain said ‘Hey, look at that Escape prompt. You could write something for that one AU that would fit that. And this one could work as a follow-up!’ and I said yeah, sure, why not. And I listed those ideas as ‘Escape!AU’, because that was the one that sparked the idea and I figured there’d only be one or two others.

By now, the AU has absorbed close to a dozen other prompts. They’re wildly out of order, of course, because I’m writing them in order of the prompts and not how those moments happen in the story. With every additional prompt I write out, there is the chance that it will mutate before my eyes and become part of the Escape!AU with little to no input or control from myself. I feel like I invited the muse for this story into my head without realizing that it’s not a fluffy hamster, IT’S A BLOODY TRIBBLE.

That being said, I should probably have at least kinda seen it coming, because it’s a fix-it for the ending of CoS. That’s a topic that I... feel passionately about, to put it mildly. This is that other AU I mentioned yesterday, where Gerald still has extra-special Hunter powers and the Patriarch did not manage to take the fae away from everyone; please just go with it, and I’ll actually address how that happened at some point. Although the Gerald-not-actually-being-mortal isn’t really relevant in this bit, because he’s so drained from everything that’s happened that it doesn’t do anything to resolve the situation.

That’s what we have Damien for.

Opening two lines, in italics, are quoted directly from Crown of Shadows to help set where the scene splits from canon.

Day 4 - Theme Chosen: “Do you trust me?”

Damien hesitated, then looked at Gerald. The Hunter nodded ever so slightly. “He's right, Damien.” His voice was quiet but strained. “There's nothing more you can do here.”

“Gerald-”

The Hunter was already shaking his head. Damien felt his throat constrict, as if the force of his own panic and despair was physically crushing it. He knew what the next word from Gerald's mouth was going to be, knew that the adept was going to send him away, that this was how it was all going to end; blood and bitterness and revenge, all that potential for redemption wrenched away at the last second, wasted...

Do you trust me?

He'd never initiated contact through the link before – the few times they'd spoken through it, Gerald had been the one to open the connection, Damien only responding to the Hunter's questing reach. It wasn't as hard as he might have thought, though; only a matter of reaching for that ever-present sense of connection that throbbed quietly between them, touching that indefinable thread that bound them and spilling his thoughts into it, the question carried forward in a rush by the tide of fear and desperation that was sweeping through him. Damien saw the Hunter twitch slightly, grey eyes widening in surprise at the message, or at the strength of the emotions that accompanied it – but the response came immediately nonetheless, no hesitation on the other man's part.

Yes.

Damien looked back at Andrys, the young man's green eyes blazing with restless fury as he waited for the Knight to step aside, and let his whole demeanour shift. He dropped his hands from where they'd been held, conciliatory, in front of him; he let his shoulders shift up and back, his stance transforming from defensive to confident, even cocky, as he hardened his expression into a look of stern determination. He saw shock and uncertainty ripple through Andrys at just the change in his body language, and he went for the opening with ruthless speed, forcing even his voice to come out steady and unaffected.

“Fine. Since you're not buying the concerned ally angle... let me put this a little more plainly. You're ruining my plan, boy.”

“What?”

The shocked exclamation had come, in the same tone, from both Gerald and Andrys in nearly the same breath. Damien forced the tiny urge to laugh hysterically into the furthest recesses of his mind, glaring at Andrys with all the disdain he could muster.

“You know what he is, and in case it escaped your notice, I'm a priest,” he bit out, gesturing dismissively at Gerald where the adept stood half-shielded behind him, lean frame now rigid with disbelief at the scene unfolding in front of him. “You think I actually wanted to have to work with a monster to save the world? That I seriously planned to just let him walk away when all this was said and done?”

Already, there was a flash of dawning understanding in Andrys's eyes; the young man looked from Damien to Gerald and back, the blind aggression on his face giving way to realization as he put the pieces together.

“You set him up...”

“I swore, back on the day I first found out that he was the Hunter, that I'd kill him with my own two hands,” Damien growled, and felt the fae around him shimmer with the force of the truth behind those words, so obvious that surely even Andrys could see it. With his adept's Sight, Gerald certainly could – and had, judging by the sudden alarm that flickered over his face. “I've been biding my time for vulking years, fighting this damn war, putting up with his power slithering through my head – I've endured nightmares and murders and horrors beyond your comprehension, and now you're just going to waltz in and finish him off, just when I've finally got the upper hand? No. No, I don't think so.”

He could feel real trepidation bleeding through the link now, knew that he had forced just enough true resentment into his words to off-balance Gerald – and Andrys must have been able to see it in the adept's face as well, because the young man suddenly laughed, a malicious little chuckle half choked by his own heightened emotions.

“Well, that's certainly a twist,” he said, eyes gleaming as he lowered the springbolt in his hands ever so slightly, the angle of the bolt canting down just enough that it was no longer aimed at Damien's chest but more at hip height. “And, from the looks of it, one that you weren't expecting.” Those words, dripping with spite, were aimed at Gerald, who actually flinched again in response. Andrys's gaze swung back to Damien, a dark, sick hunger that reminded the former Knight all too much of Calesta stirring behind his eyes. “So, you're the priest... Jaxom told me about you. Said you'd lost your way, fallen further than even he expected.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “This makes more sense, though. You needed this bastard too much to kill him then, but of course you're angry. What was the plan? Bring him back here and walk right into the heart of the crusade, so you'd have backup?”

“Of course.” Damien forced a mirroring smirk onto his own features, and though it felt heinously wrong on his face, Andrys didn't seem to notice anything amiss with it. “I'm not an idiot – I want payback, but I know he's still powerful. I wasn't going to provoke that showdown unless I knew I had some kind of safety net.”

Andrys nodded, his eyes glittering; Damien could all but see the pieces aligning in his mind, the world finally taking a shape that meshed sensibly with the young man's own personal mania.

“I see,” he said finally, the springbolt lowering a little more – the weapon was heavy, his arms had to be tiring by now. “It was my family that he slaughtered, you know... but I understand what you're saying, as well. You had to travel with him, endure him, for the entire fight against Calesta – that can't have been easy. I won't deny you have a claim on his head, but I think you must see my point of view as well...”

Damien barely heard his words. His eyes were on the springbolt, watching the nose dip further and further – until, as Andrys rambled on about the weight of their differing claims and his own suffering in having to work with Calesta to put an end to the Hunter, the trajectory of the bolt fell so far that it was aimed at the very ground.

Now!

Damien shoved the word through the link at the same time that he moved, lunging forward with every ounce of speed his tense muscles could offer. He left his reservations behind him, the conflict that had raged through him for so long suddenly silenced, irrelevant; as it had that night in Morgot when Hesseth's tidal Working had hit them, his innate drive to defend those he cared for subsumed everything else, every other voice in his head drowning under the overwhelming instinct to protect.

Andrys was wearing too much armour to try any more delicate method of incapacitating him, so Damien fell back on the basics; closing the distance between them with that desperate lunge, he brought his arm back and punched Andrys in the jaw with all the force he could muster. Even in his exhausted state, his speed and strength were forces to be reckoned with. Andrys had tried to react to Damien's sudden attack, jerking the springbolt back up and getting off a single shot, but Gerald had taken Damien's cue to throw himself to the side out of Andrys's line of attack; the bolt fired at a useless angle, flying low across the room to bury itself in the far wall near the floor. Then, Damien's blow connected.

Damien wasn't just well-trained in combat; as a Healer, he knew exactly how to do the most damage to the human body when he needed to. The gorget of the armour was protecting Andrys's throat too well for a jab to connect, but the sideways force of a blow could be an effective method of knocking an opponent out as well, if the attacker had aimed correctly. Damien had thrown the punch from as much of a sideways angle as he could manage, his fist coming in from the side with terrifying force; as it connected, Andrys's head snapped hard to the side, and the young man crumpled to the ground like a marionette with cut strings, knocked instantly unconscious by the force of his own brain being slammed against the inside of his skull.

The crash of his armoured form hitting the floor was followed by utter silence, broken only by Damien's own heavy breathing. He stared down at the young man, heart pounding with delayed adrenaline, feeling a wave of numbness slowly wash through him and replace the panic that had driven him to action.

God, forgive me... is this what I've become? Is this what You wanted when you brought us together, or have I truly lost myself so badly?

“Damien?”

The soft utterance of his name snapped Damien out of his trance, and he turned, shaking off the fog. Gerald had closed the distance between them in his moment of distraction and was now standing only a couple feet away, staring at Damien as if he'd never seen the Knight before, grey eyes wide. He didn't say anything else aloud, but he didn't need to; the link between them was saturated with emotion. Shock, wonder, gratitude, a fading echo of wariness...

And something else. Something so strong, so deeply felt, that it took Damien's breath away all over again. A sense of devotion, almost akin to his own fierce faith in God yet so much more personal, flooding through the link between their souls. A dizzying awareness that a line had been crossed, and a promise made: not with words, but with actions, unable to be taken back or misinterpreted. Gerald was wholly aware of what Damien had just declared, by stepping between himself and his descendant, by striking out at Andrys in defence of the Hunter – and he was returning the sentiment tenfold.

There would be time to put it all into words later. Damien took a deep breath, finally feeling the ground firm beneath his feet once more, his world steadying from where it had tilted on its axis in the moment he thought that Gerald was going to die.

“Time to grab what we came for and get the Hell out of here,” he said, mouth dry. “I'd say we're pretty definitively out of time.”

As Gerald nodded and turned to find the books they'd risked so much for, Damien moved to help, marveling at the way the link remained open and resonating between them, emotions flowing freely back and forth – and wondering what it meant for the state of his immortal soul that none of those emotions, from either end of the link, was anything like regret.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #Do You Trust Me?#coldfire trilogy #fic #evil is what you make of it #gerald tarrant #damien vryce #the neocount writes

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