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nubian-nutcase · 7 months

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Inspection (TCW oneshot)

I CAN SHARE MY SW WRITING NOW >:D I wrote this story literally years ago, but it's one of my favorites and I'm proud of it. So. :)

Summary: When Anakin receives word that a team sent by the senate is coming to inspect his fleet per protocol, he isn’t particularly thrilled. In an attempt to dodge dealing with the team, Anakin decides to instruct his Padawan in the responsibilities of being a general by ordering her to be General Skywalker for the duration of the inspection.

I.e. Anakin and Ahsoka swap roles and chaos ensues.

The bridge of the Resolute was quieter than usual. Many clones sat at stations, sifting through information listlessly. A few stood towards the back, equally engrossed in their work on some data pads. The Force hummed along with the destroyer’s engines. It was a calm end to a calm day.

Anakin hated it.

The Jedi general leaned heavily against the holoprojector at the back of the bridge. His fleet had been stuck in the same plot of space for the past week and he was about to lose his mind. They had pushed the Separatists out of Republic territory and needed to press the offensive, but the senate had suddenly decided that the best strategy was a solid defense.

In other words, they just didn’t want to do anything. Anakin had heard from the most recent HoloNet report (he didn’t care to keep track of senate affairs, but at this point it was his best way of seeing what Padmé was up to) that the senate was frantically trying to draft a new bill that would aid in the war’s funding. He didn’t know much about it, but he knew it meant that they would basically be grounded until the useless morons could come up with the money required to continue the war.

Anakin curled his lip in disgust. He was positive the Separatists weren’t having the same problems. It wasn’t like the senate couldn’t get the money somehow. They just needed to decide upon it and then kriffing do it!

The room spun, and Anakin’s skull felt like it was being pinched by impossibly powerful fingers. He bit back a moan and closed his eyes, leaning forward some more. He’d been staring at the same holograms all kriffing day, watching as reports from the Strategic Information Services trickled in with the latest updates on Separatist activity. He was chomping at the bit to get going, and he’d figured he could spend his time strategizing how best to eliminate all the fleets he saw sitting around waiting to be destroyed. He’d come up with at least four different plans in that time.

Blast it, he couldn’t stand this much longer. When he wasn’t strategizing, he was tinkering; when he wasn’t tinkering, he was sparring with Ahsoka or by himself; when he wasn’t sparring, he was tearing up his boots and the floor by pacing endlessly in the observation deck. He hadn’t slept in roughly two days (at least he thought it had been two days – all nighters made one day blur into the next to a point where he’d lost track). He needed to move, he needed to do something!

Restraining a growl of frustration, Anakin pulled away from the holoprojector (and quickly tried to ignore the sudden wave of dizziness) and headed towards the exit.

“General Skywalker.”

Pausing, Anakin turned and saw Adm. Yularen approaching him. A small flare of hope dared to light itself in his mind, and he faced the man fully. “Yes, admiral?”

“We’ve received a message from command, sir,” the admiral informed him. Anakin’s hope brightened exceptionally, and he nearly interrupted the man to ask where they were being sent when Yularen continued, “We’re expecting an inspection team from the senate. They should arrive by the start of the day cycle at 0600. I’ll send further details in writing, sir.”

An inspection?! What?! How the blazes was that going to help anything?! Anakin clenched his jaw, biting his tongue. He flinched and nodded in acknowledgement, exiting the bridge wordlessly.

After storming to an empty hangar, Anakin pulled out a data pad and looked at the information sent to him. He grew steadily more annoyed as he read through it, and eventually he found himself rearranging the entire hangar in a fit of energy.

Ahsoka stumbled upon her master as he was moving all the extra storage crates from one end of the hangar to the other for the fourth time. The rather loud clanging noises the crates made when they were unceremoniously dropped had caught her attention in the first place, as well as the ripples through their slowly forming training bond. It had been five months since she’d become his Padawan, and she was fairly certain she’d never seen him go this stir crazy. Then again, she’d never really seen him have to sit still for so long – Ahsoka herself had been sent back to the Jedi Temple on multiple occasions while her master had remained on the battlefront, much to her annoyance.

“Master?” she asked softly as Anakin kicked a defiant crate into its proper spot. “What’s wrong?”

Anakin faced the stack for a while and then sighed heavily, turning around to look her in the eye. “We’ve got an inspection coming.”

Ahsoka nodded. “I know; Adm. Yularen sent a message out to everyone a few minutes ago. We’re not in trouble, right?”

“No,” her master replied, running a hand through his hair.

Ahsoka shrugged. “Well, at least it’ll be something different; we’ve been doing nothing for the past week.”

Anakin grumbled under his breath, and his padawan gave him a funny look in response.

“What’s so bad about the inspection if it’s not because we’re in trouble?” she asked.

Anakin huffed. “This inspection is just the senate pretending to be doing something productive.”

“What do you mean?”

“The entire military is basically grounded until the senate can free up more funds,” Anakin explained, growing angrier as he said it; he couldn’t believe he was talking such nonsense with his Padawan when he should be instructing her on more important things. He wasn’t mad at her so much as the situation, and it was just making his headache worse. “Because of this, it makes it seem like we’re not doing anything to fight the Separatists—which is absolutely true. So, the senate wants to make themselves look good and keep the people happy by sending inspection teams out to put up appearances and act like they’re actually doing something—ensuring proper protocol and all that bantha poodoo. It’s ridiculous and pointless.”

“It’s something different,” Ahsoka argued with a shrug. “And on top of that, it’s a new pair of eyes to look everything over. Don’t you always say we should use everything as an opportunity for improvement?”

“Terrific; you just volunteered yourself to go over all the reg manuals,” Anakin quipped cheerfully.

Ahsoka pouted. “Come on, Master, why me?”

“Because you’re the Padawan.”

The Togruta teenager grew annoyed. “Fine. I will review them, and I’ll show you that this isn’t a big deal.”

“Let me enlighten you to the delights of inspections, Snips,” Anakin said, walking over to her. Adopting a flawless Coruscanti accent with just the right amount of snobbery to it, he demonstrated what was to come. “I see the lighting in this area is rather bright for the night cycle; do you have it at twenty-five percent capacity, as protocol dictates? You know how important it is to follow energy protocols. And tell me, are these crates stacked in alphabetical order? And—”

“It can’t be that bad,” Ahsoka rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, giving him her typical you’re exaggerating look.

Anakin crossed his arms in retaliation. “Yes, it is.”

The two Jedi had a glaring contest for a few seconds before Anakin was suddenly struck with an epiphany. A mischievous smirk crossed his face, and his body was filled with energy. “You know what? You’re right. It isn’t that bad… in fact, I think anybody could handle it.”

Ahsoka looked a little suspicious, hesitant to acknowledge Anakin’s sudden backtracking. Her expression amused her master to no end.

“Ahsoka, you’ve given me a great idea,” Anakin continued, and Ahsoka’s suspicion only increased. “I think it’s time you start taking on greater responsibilities. From this point forward until the inspection is completed, you’ll be the general in charge.”

Ahsoka blanched. “What?”

“You heard me,” Anakin encouraged, his smile widening. “You’ll be Gen. Skywalker to the inspection team.”

“What’ll that make you?” Ahsoka asked.

Anakin considered it. “I’ll just be some lackey on the ship making sure things are running—”

“You’ll be my Padawan,” Ahsoka interrupted, putting her hands on her hips and mirroring her master’s previous mischievous smile.

Now it was Anakin’s turn to give her a startled look. “What?”

“Well, everybody knows that Gen. Skywalker has a Padawan,” Ahsoka explained as if she were giving him a briefing. “The Separatists and Republic alike have heard of the great exploits of Commander Ahsoka Tano.”

Anakin furrowed his brow, skeptical and exasperated. “They know me, Snips. Even if they do know you, it’s just as my subordinate.”

Ahsoka’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. “They still know about me, then. So I, as General Anakin Skywalker, have to have a Padawan to save my sorry asteroid.”

Anakin could practically hear Obi-Wan griping about Ahsoka’s language, and he knew she’d picked it up from him and the troops. Amusement trickled through him, but it was squished by irritation at her remark. She would pay for that. “Fine. I’ll be your precious Padawan who knows nothing but what her brilliant master taught her.”

“Great!” Ahsoka acknowledged, stiffening. Then her irritation dissolved, and the Force rang with delight. “Now all we have to do is switch outfits.”

Anakin jumped. “What?! I’m not wearing your clothes!”

“I think the leggings would look good on you,” Ahsoka laughed. “Or the top.”

Anakin huffed. “I’ll wear your battle armor, thanks.”

“No, we’re not in battle.”

“I’m not wearing a tube top!”

Ahsoka lost all composure at the thought of it, irritating Anakin all the more.

“You still have to wear the beads, though,” she eventually said, pushing past the argument.

Anakin restrained a sigh. “All right, all right, hand them over.”

Smiling triumphantly, Ahsoka removed her Padawan braid and held it out for him to take. Then she paused, realizing that he wouldn’t have anywhere to hang it, and she took off her entire headdress. Anakin, who had been hoping she wouldn’t come to that conclusion, was all the more annoyed for it. He snatched it irritably, but he refused to put it on just yet.

“So what are we going to do?” Ahsoka asked, suddenly serious. “I mean, when the team arrives everybody will introduce us as Master and Padawan… and it’s not like the records don’t talk about what we look like or our genders or anything.”

“Relax, Padawan,” Anakin assured her. “These people are coming from the senate; they’re not military. The only information they’re armed with are regulations.”

“They’ll also be armed with whatever HoloNet’s been spouting,” Ahsoka pointed out. “And I don’t think they haven’t mentioned your gender.”

Anakin waved a careless hand. “Propaganda, my dear Padawan. SIS wanted to make sure the Seps couldn’t figure out who the real threat was.”

“Master.”

“Yes?”

“No, I mean you should say my dear Master,” Ahsoka corrected him, smiling slyly and crossing her arms. “You are my Padawan, after all.”

Anakin felt his eyebrows twitch in annoyance and he huffed. “Not yet.”

“You said from this point until the inspection is complete.”

“I’m amending it,” Anakin frowned. “From the point just prior to the team’s arrival until the inspection’s complete.”

“That could be anytime,” Ahsoka put her hands on her hips, arguing her point. “The inspection—”

“Isn’t until tomorrow,” Anakin pointed out, satisfied that he had gotten the upper hand once more. “So best study the reg manuals, Padawan.”

Ahsoka huffed and turned to leave. “Fine. I’ll see you in the morning, Padawan.”

Anakin grumbled and wandered over to his ship, tinkering on it. Artoo eventually joined him and the two silently worked through the night. When his chronometer read 0530 Anakin finally pulled away and cleaned himself up for the day, heading to the bridge to spread the news about the new arrangements for the inspection.

Ahsoka was already there, dressed in her battle armor and wearing her Jedi robe with the hood drawn to hide her youth. She was currently spouting orders to Yularen, who was looking both baffled and irritated, while Rex stood a fair distance away trying to hide a smirk of amusement. When the admiral noticed Anakin’s arrival, he approached him.

“Sir, your Padawan stated that you two are… switching identities for the duration of the inspection?” Yularen said, questioning Ahsoka’s words. Anakin was slightly annoyed that the officer would doubt Ahsoka or think she would make such a silly remark without Anakin’s permission, but he supposed he shouldn’t blame the man too much; neither Master nor Padawan was exactly the orthodox pinnacle of obedience and decorum.

“She’s right,” he confirmed with a small nod. “You are to address her as Gen. Skywalker so long as the inspection team’s here.”

“And he’s Cdr. Tano,” Ahsoka called cheerfully from where she stood. “Speaking of which, my young Padawan, shouldn��t you be wearing your braid?”

Anakin sighed heavily and pulled out the headdress. Rex’s smirk grew and he coughed harshly, looking away and covering his face with his hand. Anakin felt his cheeks flush, and he held back some foul Huttese remarks as he laid the item over his forehead, trying to put it in a spot where it wouldn’t slide around. Yularen, on the other hand, looked more exasperated than ever.

“Sir, may I remind you that the inspection team will be expecting to speak to the real Gen. Skywalker?” he asked, his voice a little tight from annoyance.

“The real Gen. Skywalker is right there, admiral,” Anakin said stubbornly, pointing to Ahsoka. “If you have any concerns over the inspection, you should address her, not me.”

“Sir,” a clone called from farther into the bridge. “The inspection team has arrived. They’re asking for permission to board.”

Deny permission deny permission deny permission Anakin mentally begged, even though he knew that would be pointless.

“Permission granted,” Adm. Yularen sighed, apparently resigned to his fate. “Guide them to Hangar 12.”

Anakin exhaled slowly, trying to release his frustration to the Force as Obi-Wan had taught him. Instead he felt it morph into amusement as he glanced at his Padawan. Well, it got rid of the irritation in either case.

“Master,” he called in a sing-song tone. “Shouldn’t you go meet the team in the hangar? I’m sure they have plenty of questions for you.”

Ahsoka smirked. “Of course I should, Padawan, but you should come along. After all, it’s your first inspection; you have so much to learn about it. In fact, since I have such important matters to attend to—”

“Capt. Rex, won’t the team be expecting the general?” Anakin interrupted to prevent Ahsoka from throwing the responsibility back onto him without the perks of being the man in charge. He would not let this plan backfire.

Rex looked like he’d rather be kept out of this feud, but he did agree with Anakin, smiling apologetically at Ahsoka. “The commander’s right, sir. The team will be expecting you.”

Ahsoka frowned, defeated, but not put out. “Very well. Come along, Padawan.”

Anakin followed her cheerfully and the two silently made their way to the hangar in question. When they entered the shuttle had already landed and the ramp was just lowering. The people disembarking were not clones, nor did they look military in the slightest; their clothing made them look more like techs or aides, which was no great surprise to Anakin. A real inspection team would have had clones and would have never been sent by the senate – it would have been sent by military command.

The one in charge, a male red-skinned Twi’lek, approached both Jedi, looking between the two. It was apparent that he did not know the physical description of either person he was going to meet, and Anakin immediately knew they could pull this plan off.

Everyone was silent for a millisecond, and Anakin gently nudged Ahsoka with the Force, reminding her that as the general she was to start the conversation.

Ahsoka flinched a little but quickly covered it, smoothly saying, “Welcome aboard the Resolute. I’m Gen. Skywalker, and this is my wonderful Padawan, Ahsoka Tano, without whom I could have never accomplished all the victories under my belt.”

Anakin glared irritably at his master.

The Twi’lek grew confused. “I was under the impression that Gen. Skywalker was a man. And aren’t you both a little young to be a general? Where is Skywalker?”

“Are you doubting our competency?” Anakin blurted before he could stop himself, rising to his full height and glowering at the inspector. “Need I remind you that our fleet is among the most successful in the entire military?”

“We’re not here to deduce how many victories you have achieved,” the Twi’lek snapped. “And your competency is in question until we can confirm otherwise. That is the purpose of this inspection.”

“Forgive my Padawan,” Ahsoka quickly said. “He tends to be a little defensive. I think all he was trying to say is that you shouldn’t make such assumptions.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow in her direction, surprised at her self-control; he knew how much remarks about her age bothered her. Then again, his surprise disappeared when she added, “After all, even a Jedi youngling could defeat all of you. Rank is based on skill.”

It took all his energy to not laugh out loud. The Twi’lek flushed, annoyed at the remark.

“So now that we’ve got that cleared up, where would you like to start?” Ahsoka continued, radiating satisfaction at shutting the man up. “My Padawan can take you wherever you need to go.”

Anakin jumped. What? No, no, no, he was not letting her slip out of her responsibilities that easily. “I’ll happily escort you wherever needed, inspector. My Master is very busy and must return to the bridge, but I’m sure that’s the first place you’ll want to check anyway. Chain of command and all, right? I wouldn’t know too much about anything anyway; after all, I’m just the Padawan.”

If looks could kill, Ahsoka would have shredded Anakin into tiny pieces. But looks couldn’t kill, and even if they could, his smug confident smirk would have deflected anything she could toss at him.

“I have many questions for you and the admiral, general,” the inspector said, his body rigid from the earlier insult. “Your Padawan will not suffice.”

“Aw, too bad,” Anakin sighed, though he couldn’t muster up any regret in his tone. “Well, I’ll hold down the bridge, then. Have fun, Master!”

“We’ll go to the bridge first,” Ahsoka immediately said, grabbing Anakin’s arm. “That way you can learn as much as possible, Padawan. Though really, I do think you guys could just ask him – Ahsoka is an extremely intelligent and insightful Padawan, and oftentimes I find myself marveling at how much he can do. In fact, I doubt this ship would run so well without him!”

“Everything I know, I learn from you, Master,” Anakin rebutted with as much convincing charm as he could, though it came out through gritted teeth. “After all, you know far more than I do.”

“Nonsense!” Ahsoka shook her head dramatically. “You’ve been tossed around so much between different masters that you’ve picked up far more experience than I could ever impart.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Anakin almost snapped before he bit his tongue to save face; he’d rather have Ahsoka bashing him a little than have to guide the team through their mind numbing tasks. He would make sure she paid for this, though.

The inspection team watched curiously with a touch of suspicion, and both Jedi quickly realized they were slipping at their little game. Clearing her throat, Ahsoka motioned towards the door. “Shall we?”

As everyone walked to the bridge, the team immediately began to take notes, glancing around the hall and at Force knew what else. Anakin rolled his eyes in exasperation, clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to release some energy that was quickly broiling in his chest. Ahsoka glanced at the team a little nervously, and she skipped ahead to speak with Anakin privately.

“Is that normal?” she whispered, nodding towards the team’s extensive note taking.

Anakin nodded, scowling. “If they find a speck of dust out of place they’ll report it.”

“Did we have the place cleaned up?”

Her innocent concern was beyond amusing, and Anakin smiled. “Yularen would have handled that. He takes care of all the useless protocol.”

The group reached the bridge and Rex called for attention on the deck. Everyone saluted and remained still.

And continued to remain still.

Anakin cleared his throat loudly.

Ahsoka jumped. “At ease.”

Everyone returned to their stations, and Yularen and Rex approached the group. Yularen nodded to Ahsoka. “General.”

This alone made the team grow confused once more. It appeared they had half convinced themselves that Anakin and Ahsoka were playing some joke on them, but since the admiral was also acknowledging Ahsoka as the general they were beginning to wonder if it actually was the case. Just watching their utter bewilderment was amusing enough, honestly.

“Admiral, this is the inspection team.” Ahsoka introduced them. “Please accommodate them in any way necessary.”

“We still have questions for you, general,” the Twi’lek noted before she could leave.

Ahsoka stiffened, starting to grow annoyed. Anakin smiled happily.

“Gen. Skywalker?”

Anakin turned automatically at the clone’s voice and then froze halfway. Ahsoka, thankfully, also turned.

A moment passed as everyone stared at the clone trooper, who also shifted his gaze between Anakin and Ahsoka. Then Ahsoka said, “What is it?”

“Eh, sir,” the clone said awkwardly, still looking between the two Jedi. “There’s a transmission for you from Gen. Kenobi.”

Anakin’s eyes widened. Shavit shavit SHAVIT—

“Oh. Is it urgent?” Ahsoka questioned, her voice higher than normal, crossing her arms and puffing out her chest in an attempt to look more confident than she felt.

“Well, he was fairly insistent, sir.”

“By all means, general,” the inspector piped in. “Don’t let us interrupt your day to day duties. Your apprentice might be able to answer some questions until you’re finished with Gen. Kenobi.”

Anakin felt his blood curdle even more. What?!

Ahsoka smirked. “You’re very gracious. I’ll take the call in my quarters, trooper.”

“Master,” Anakin interjected. “This sounds urgent. You should take the call here.”

Ahsoka curled her lips in annoyance. Anakin glared at her. He didn’t care if it blew their cover – he was not going to be stuck dealing with this guy and play Padawan. Besides, he could still make this work. Somehow.

“Master Kenobi can wait the few minutes it takes for me to walk to my quarters,” Ahsoka reasoned, trying to cover her reaction and win this fight.

Ahsoka had a lot to learn. Anakin would never give up that easily. “Master Kenobi wouldn’t be calling if it weren’t important. It would be irresponsible to make him wait.”

Ahsoka’s mouth became a thin line. She was cornered and she knew it. The bridge was silent.

“You’re right, Padawan,” she finally conceded, adding, “Like many other times before, you have proven your exceptional wisdom.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. Oh brother. “I learned from the best, Master.”

Rex coughed loudly in the corner. Anakin glared at him.

“Put him through,” Ahsoka told the trooper, getting Anakin’s attention once more.

The holoprojector came to life with a hum, and Anakin and Ahsoka hastily stepped towards it so they would both be in view when Obi-Wan appeared.

The familiar face of Obi-Wan Kenobi materialized, and he glanced at the two. “Anakin.”

Anakin cleared his throat loudly. “Why, Master Kenobi, it’s so good to see you! My master and I were just getting ready for an inspection, but when they said you were calling we figured it had to be urgent.”

Obi-Wan blinked a few times and then furrowed his brow. “Your—your what? A—”

“Anakin must have something important to talk about with you, so I’m going to do my duty as her Padawan and answer some questions for the inspection team. What questions I can, of course, since I have so little knowledge about these affairs—”

“Oh, Padawan, you’re far too humble, you know almost as much as I do!”

“Oh no, no, I would never presume to be that arrogant—”

“Anakin.”

Both Anakin and Ahsoka shut their mouths at the stern tone. Ahsoka lowered her eyes in an admission of guilt while Anakin glared at Obi-Wan defiantly.

Suddenly, Rex piped in. “Commander, I believe the team still needs your help.”

Anakin and Obi-Wan both turned their attention to Rex. Obi-Wan then automatically looked back to Anakin, as if ready to resume his conversation while Ahsoka walked away, but Anakin quickly took the lifeline Rex had thrown him. “Right! I’ll do that.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, even more baffled, but then exasperation settled on his face and he sighed heavily. Anakin walked towards the inspection team, who looked even more suspicious than ever, but still not quite ready to accuse them of anything.

“So what do you need, Master Kenobi?” Ahsoka asked. Anakin flinched; he addressed Obi-Wan as Master, but he doubted the team would know that.

“Well, I was going to talk to… to you about your report concerning the battle over Ryloth – it needs revision.”

Anakin bit back a groan. Great. The last thing he needed was to give Ahsoka more fuel against him.

Ahsoka crossed her arms, suddenly looking delighted. “Really? I didn’t write the report correctly?”

Obi-Wan stared at Ahsoka for a few moments to see if she would back down from the game, but she stood her ground, making Anakin smile. He sighed. “Your phrasing could use improvement.”

“How so? Did I misspell something again?”

Anakin opened his mouth to retort, whirling on Ahsoka, when he remembered the team watching him and bit his tongue so sharply he tasted blood.

This was ridiculous. He was not going to listen to this. “Master, you know Master Kenobi is really picky and just prefers things written his way.”

Ahsoka only half faced him. “Hush, Padawan. The adults are talking.”

Oh that was it, he was going to kill her—

“Padawan, I do have several concerns about the state of this bridge,” the inspection officer said impatiently.

“I’m sure the admiral can address them,” Anakin snarled with such hostility the man took several steps back.

Thankfully, Adm. Yularen did in fact step in to handle the matter, apparently growing tired of the charade. “What concerns do you have?”

Ignoring the impending boring tirade from the team, Anakin stomped over to Ahsoka, who was trying to encourage Obi-Wan to discuss the report.

“We’ll explain later, Master,” was the only thing he said to Obi-Wan before completely cutting the connection and glaring at Ahsoka. “You’d better watch it, Snips.”

Ahsoka smiled smugly, crossing her arms. “I’m the Jedi Knight. I get to say whatever I want.”

“Is that what you think?” Anakin snapped. This girl needed a reality check – if Anakin could say whatever he wanted—

Well. Maybe he did often state his opinion a little loudly. But he didn’t always—there were times where he held his tongue!

He couldn’t think of any right now, but he knew they’d happened!

“So do you normally mess up your reports?” Ahsoka asked.

“I don’t mess up my reports,” Anakin snarled. “I just don’t write them in a standard fashion.”

Ahsoka laughed. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Pretty sure you have an inspection team waiting for you, general.”

Ahsoka looked over at the team to see them finishing their interrogation of the admiral. She sighed.

“Well, Master, I’d best spend my time in the training area now since you’re no longer busy,” Anakin said loudly as the team approached. “After all, my lightsaber skills are still sorely lacking.”

Ahsoka bristled. “Actually, they’ve improved so much you don’t have to worry about training today. I’m quite impressed with your abilities.”

“Pretty sure I still hold the lightsaber backwards,” Anakin said thoughtfully, stroking his chin and hiding a smirk as Ahsoka grew even more annoyed.

“That’s a certain style of fighting,” she corrected him, and Anakin raised an eyebrow, knowing he’d won this round. She caught herself and faced the team. “I apologize for the delay.”

“Bye, Master!” Anakin chirped happily, rushing for the door.

When he finally reached the hall and the door to the bridge closed behind him, he allowed himself to relax and smile.

I win, Snips.

Elated to be free, Anakin went to the engineering deck and hung out with the clones for several hours as they all tinkered on different parts of the ship. Anakin was particularly engrossed in the hyperdrive alongside Twitch when he sensed Ahsoka approaching.

“Padawan, there you are!”

Pausing from his work, Anakin twisted his torso to look down—he was lying on top of the large hyperdrive after all—at Ahsoka, who stood on the catwalk. He was unpleasantly surprised to see the inspection team with her. However, his amusement returned when he saw the haggard look on Ahsoka’s face – he bet she was sick of dealing with them by now.

“Hello, Master,” he greeted with a knowing smile.

Ahsoka’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you were doing lightsaber practice.”

“I did briefly, but I recall you saying I was too good to worry about it today, so then I decided to practice on my mechanic skills. Force knows I need it.”

Ahsoka bristled and then bit her lip to prevent a retort from flying out.

The team leader took this opportunity to pipe in. “I wish to speak to the chief engineer.”

Ahsoka jumped, her eyes widening, and Anakin had to cover his laugh for a cough. Ahsoka knew many of the men in the 501st, but not all of them, and she was particularly unfamiliar with the engineering deck. She had no clue who the chief engineer was.

“Right,” she replied, rubbing her hands together. “Right. The chief engineer.”

Looking around desperately, she pointed to the first clone she saw. “Soldier! Get the chief engineer.”

Anakin curled in on himself, hiding his face from view because he was about to lose it.

The clone, Dune, stared at her awkwardly. “Uh, I am the chief engineer, sir.”

Anakin again coughed, this time in a fit so bad that his head was spinning by the time he was done.

“Well, there you go,” Ahsoka said, embarrassed and likely gesturing to the engineer for the team. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to—attend to important stuff.”

Anakin sensed Ahsoka flee the room and he rolled onto his back, still trying to catch his breath from laughter. Twitch was trying his best to maintain the decorum so typical of clones, but Anakin could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek.

Glancing at his chronometer, Anakin realized it was close to dinnertime. By the time the inspection team finished in the engineering deck, they would either be departing or staying the night, depending on how long it had taken Ahsoka to guide them through the Resolute. Anakin prayed it was the former.

Subtly exiting the area, Anakin headed towards the mess hall and ran into Ahsoka on the way. “Having fun?”

“Shut up,” Ahsoka grumbled. “I didn’t know people could get so picky about the stupidest things.”

Anakin smirked knowingly.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Fine, you were right.”

“Ready for dinner?”

“Yes.”

As they entered the mess, Anakin asked, “So how far along are they?”

“I don’t know. Do they ever shut up?”

Anakin barked a laugh. “Not really, but if you go through all the areas, then you can at least cut them off.”

As the two grabbed their food, the clones acknowledged them with smirks and snickers, and Anakin had to laugh at it all. Today had been crazy.

“How did you like running the ship?” he asked, his stomach tightening at the sight of the rations on his plate.

Ahsoka shrugged. “Hard to tell considering I spent all my time dealing with them.”

“Welcome to the headache of bureaucracy,” Anakin snipped, waving a hand dismissively.

“Regulations are important, though,” Ahsoka tried to reason. “They keep everything universal and they keep people in line.”

“They can also get in the way, and this is a prime example of it.” Anakin corrected her.

Ahsoka bit her lip, looking away uncertainly. “I guess.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments as Ahsoka nibbled on her food while Anakin merely pushed it around with his utensil. Then she asked, “So if the team has to stay the night, does that mean I get to sleep in your room?”

The utensil scraped the plate loudly as Anakin jumped. “What?”

“I mean I’m still Gen. Skywalker right now.” Ahsoka explained, tilting her head to the side and smiling.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Sleep wherever you want.”

“And you can sleep in my room!”

Like I’ll be sleeping. “Sure. Wait—I need my pillow.”

“It’s my pillow now!”

“No, it’s mine!”

“It’s Anakin’s—”

“I don’t want you drooling on it!”

Ahsoka huffed. “I won’t!”

Anakin crossed his arms. “Please. My tunics beg to differ.”

Ahsoka’s orange cheeks darkened in embarrassment, and she didn’t know what to say. Anakin felt a little bad for pointing out that he’d helped her fall asleep and stayed with her during the first month or so of their time together, but it wans’t like it was a big deal, at least not to him. He would be damned if he left Ahsoka feeling lost and alone and terrified in the middle of the night, haunted by nightmares of the battlefield.

Pushing the matter aside, he said, “Just eat your dinner. I’ll grab my pillow.”

Mumbling some kind of reply, Ahsoka lowered her gaze to her plate.

“Anakin.”

Anakin nearly jumped out of his skin alongside Ahsoka as Obi-Wan’s Force presence suddenly appeared out of nowhere just as he heard the clipped accent say his name. Leaping up, his foot caught the bench of the table and he nearly face planted into another table before Obi-Wan caught him.

“Master!” he yelped.

“What in the blazes is going on?” Obi-Wan asked, already sounding resigned to whatever insane plan Anakin had concocted.

“We—we were—what are you doing here?!”

“I was going to tell you that I was en route to your location, but you cut me off.”

Anakin blinked. “Oh. Well. It’s good to see you.”

Obi-Wan gave a small smile and tipped his head in acknowledgement as he steadied Anakin. Then he frowned. “You look terrible.”

Anakin swallowed. How the blazes did Obi-Wan always see through him? “I’m fine.”

“Master and I switched places for the inspection team,” Ahsoka explained with an excited smile, not quite catching the subtle change in conversation.

Obi-Wan gave Anakin an appalled look. “Anakin—”

“Hey, it was a good learning experience for her,” Anakin tried to reason, raising his hands in defense.

“Inspection teams suck,” Ahsoka added helpfully.

Obi-Wan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Now let’s talk about that report!” Ahsoka piped up eagerly.

“No, Ahsoka,” Anakin immediately replied. “Finish your dinner. Obi-Wan and I will handle the report.”

Sighing, Ahsoka complied, probably because she was too exhausted from the day to argue any further. Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan and motioned for him to follow. Obi-Wan took a brief look at the table and then accompanied Anakin to the hallway.

“You didn’t eat your dinner,” he remarked.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.”

“I’m fairly certain starvation and sleep deprivation aren’t fine, Anakin.”

“Master,” Anakin begged tiredly, leaning against the wall. “Not now. Please.”

Obi-Wan watched him worriedly and sighed. “All right. Let’s discuss the report. Follow me.”

Reluctantly, Anakin followed his former master, tiredly and confusedly noting where they were going. “This doesn’t lead to the bridge. Or the observation deck. Or… where are we going?”

“Your room.”

“Technically it’s Ahsoka’s room right now.”

Obi-Wan threw an exasperated look over his shoulder. “Should we go to Ahsoka’s room, then?”

Anakin thought about it, scrunching his nose, and then shrugged, too tired to care. Obi-Wan didn’t change direction, and Anakin didn’t argue anymore.

The two continued in silence until they reached the small quarters provided to Anakin aboard the Resolute. It was a standard officer’s room, roughly the same size as his bedroom in the Jedi Temple. A cot was in the far left corner, a dresser along the left wall, and a sink and mirror on the right wall. Obi-Wan pulled at the covers of the cot and looked at Anakin.

“Master,” Anakin grumbled. “I told you I’m fine.”

“We’re going to talk about your report,” Obi-Wan said to appease him. “But you’re going to lie down.”

“But—”

“Now, Anakin.”

Grumbling under his breath, Anakin slipped his boots and belt off and settled on the mattress. At Obi-Wan’s raised eyebrow, he reluctantly slipped his feet under the covers and lowered his head to his pillow. He felt the mattress shift as Obi-Wan sat at the bottom edge. Immediately his eyes felt heavy, and he fought his hardest to keep them open.

“Now, about this report,” Obi-Wan said, his voice suddenly soft as if he were trying to be quiet, “You know you can’t write tricked the idiotic Seppies into believing my surrender so my Padawan could kick their asteroids, right?”

Anakin snorted in a confused response of laughter and cringing. He’d been particularly tired when writing that report and he supposed he’d forgotten to edit it before submitting it. Oops. “I mean it’s not wrong.”

Obi-Wan sighed heavily.

Whatever response his master had in store for him as his eyes suddenly closed and he jumped, rising into a seated position in what felt like a heartbeat.

A warm, gentle hand pressed against his shoulder. “Rest, Anakin.”

“The report—”

“Can wait.”

Trying desperately to find an argument to stay awake, Anakin said, “The inspection team—”

“I’ll handle them,” Obi-Wan assured him softly. “I’m sure you and Ahsoka have done enough damage already, anyway.”

A giggle escaped Anakin’s lips, and he saw Obi-Wan’s face soften at the sound of it. He still didn’t really want to sleep, feeling like he hadn’t accomplished anything the entire time they’d been floating around doing nothing. He’d needed something to do. But now, with Obi-Wan’s warm, familiar, calming presence humming in his mind, he finally let his exhaustion catch up to him. Obi-Wan always managed to quiet his mind, to make the constant drone of life and death that bounced around in Anakin’s mind settle and melt away for a time. And if anything did finally happen, Anakin knew they were all safe with Obi-Wan there.

Or he would wake up to have to rescue him. Either was a possibility.

“Night, Master,” Anakin mumbled, finally succumbing. Something brushed the hair out of his eyes, and he felt the blankets get tucked around his chin. “Good night, Anakin.”

#writing #WOW I did NOT realize this was 19 pages on a word document lol #I... should probably post this to AO3 but #I'm not a huge fan of attracting attention of the Star Wars fandom as a whole #so for now they're staying here

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youarestrongerthanyouthinkyouare · 1 year

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(DON’T) LET THIS BE THE END - CHAPTER 10

Maddie's mood has never been worse than now. She tosses and turns in that uncomfortable hospital bed, hissing everytime cause she feels some pain, and she can't stop huffing. She knows she has to be grateful, because it could have been worse, and she is, but that doesn't stop her from being angry, sad, worried. She finds herself hearing Doug’s words in her ears again and again, when he told her she was ruining the lives of the people she said she loved, and she can't deny that she’s thinking about it. She knows the concern that Chim and Buck felt and are still feeling, she sees it in their eyes every time they went to see her in the hospital, and she feels guilty because she know they risked their life to protect her, especially Chim that day at home. Doug could have noticed him and react and hurt him, maybe even kill him, but Chim had given a damn and gone there to help her anyway, and while it warms her heart that someone did that for her, she feels pain at the very thought of what could have happened.

The sound of a video call interrupts her thoughts, and she shakes all her worries away when she sees Chim on the other side of the screen.

“Good morning princess, how are you feeling today?”

“Good morning, I’m fine, a little uncomfortable. You?”

“How are you feeling?”

"I'm fine, uncomfortable, you?"

“I’m fine, I've been at work for a couple of hours.” He looks at her and she sees love "You are so beautiful,"

“Ok you're my boyfriend and you have to say it but I have two purple dark circles that almost reach my chin, I haven't washed my hair for three days, I'm really not beautiful today, Chim” she laughs and looks at him “You look so tired. Did you sleep last night?”

"Yes... I slept, even if I missed you.”

She smiles "I miss you too, can't wait to sleep in your arms."

“I'm coming to the hospital when I finish here, do you need something?"

"No, don't come Chim, it's useless due to the short duration of the visits.”

"I’d come even if I could only see you for 2 minutes.”

She shakes her head "we can have another video call as soon as you finish work.”

"As you prefer. If you change your mind, tell me.”

She nods then hisses, fluttering her eyelids and trying to find a comfortable position "I'm going now, mh? The doctor will come in a bit, be careful ok?" She quickly sends him a kiss and closes the call before letting him answer, then she puts her cell phone on the pillow and puts a hand on her face.

[...]

He puts the phone down as Maddie hangs up, sighing and fighting back a yawn. He is tired, physically since he hasn't slept for days and above all mentally. He thought he could be stronger but apparently he was wrong, he couldn’t get those images out of his mind. He sees her bleeding everytime he closes his eyes, he sees Doug’s evil smile and keeps hearing his words on repeat his mind, he seems to taste her blood every time she tries to kiss him. He kisses her back every time, he needs to kiss her, but even then his mind goes back there, in that house on that floor, to what they thought would be their last kiss. He doesn't want to talk to her about it, he doesn't want to victimize himself, but really he doesn't want to talk to anyone else about it, he just hopes that everything will pass quickly and that he can get back to normal with himself and with her.

MORE ON AO3

#911 fox #maddie buckley #chimney han #madney #maddie x chimney #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #madney fic #911 fanfic

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loneberry · 1 year

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What have I done today? Very little. (Secretly, I like doing very little—if I had my druthers I’d spend my days in bed, reading and writing in my journal.)

If I had to make an inventory of my day’s activities it would look something like this:

Megaformer pilates class

Grocery shopping

Reading by the sea

Cooking

Yet at the end of the day, as I was crying during the conclusion of Woolf’s first novel, The Voyage Out, all the details of my day surged forth with such a powerful force that I felt, how can I describe it, it was something like pure love. I want to be better. I want to tell my beautiful friends how much they mean to me. How full a day is, even when nothing happens. Isn’t that what Bernadette Mayer taught us in her durational poem written on the winter solstice? It began with a dream. So did my day.

Every night for the last week I’ve woken up in agony—it is the recrudescence of my mysterious autoimmune condition, which waylaid me for 6 months this year. I wake up in the middle of the night covered in hives and can’t go back to sleep. During the day I struggle to focus or function. At night I take four different antihistamines and every otc sleep remedy (magnesium, melatonin, valerian, kava, Benadryl, herbal tea, CBD) plus my prescription sleep med. Nothing works.

When my hives woke me up at 3am I was dreaming. Of Laura. I go to check the time on my phone. Uncanny, the only notification is a text from Laura. She sends a picture of Walter Benjamin’s memorial. Half-asleep, I write her back:

Wow I was just dreaming you wrote a brilliant novel called “diaries of a terrorist” (funny my friend wrote a book w that title)… it was somehow about the geometry of revolt, about an elaborate coordinated action in Red Square that took the shape of a pentagram, aimed at revealing an invisible structure… but the action misfired because there was a flaw in the original hidden design of the structure. There were more points than the five of the pentagram…

Red Square… was it Russia? No, it was somehow Germany. But it looked like the Red Square of Moscow… perhaps because earlier in the day I was thinking about my trip to Russia. Was the pentagram of the dream drawing attention to some latent demonic presence in Russian society? Lord. How I wish I could sleep.

What do I do when I can’t sleep… listen to podcasts with my eyes closed while in bed, my usual rotation of news, political economy, politics, and war. So much emotion in the voices of strangers, how it stirs me. Richard Fierro, the man who disarmed the Club Q gunman in Colorado Springs, is talking about the incident, calmly narrating the actions, when suddenly he starts weeping about the people he could not save. It cuts through everything, like the testimonies of Ukrainians I listen to daily. On another podcast, Ukrainian writer Victoria Amelina speaks beautifully about her memories of Maidan, of the university of the streets, the transformational eros of revolt, and how useless literary writing feels during times of war, how she switched from writing novels to investigating war crimes.

News. It never stops. Ariana’s mother is dead. Bernadette Mayer is dead. A 2-day old Ukrainian baby, dead. More civilian infrastructure in Ukraine has been destroyed by Russian missiles. A maternity ward. All the cities in candlelight. No water in Kyiv. Germany builds an LNG terminal. Meanwhile in Virginia: another mass shooting. Turkey is attacking the Kurds. Who will help the Kurds?

I rearrange my wilting gillyflowers into smaller vases. There’s the smell of clove as I cut the stems. Gilly…I knew you simply as “stock.” Others call you “hoary”—a word I once used in my journal to describe a vision of my future: “…a hoary woman alone in the stone house, clutching her shimmering memories.”

Meditate on Sophrosyne. When will I ever get a handle on this monkey mind? Cook tilapia and pasta. Think about the dead. Call Ulysses. UC on strike. Call from Lily, mom in the hospital again. “Toss a penny to the sky. Heads or tails. Who knows, not I…” Conversations on the pier, while the crows, seagulls, and pigeons loitered for scraps. How the pelicans flew overhead in their enormous formations, then dipped and glided just above the water. The face of the young man with the fishing rod as he looks up when I bike past him.

All the words I read. Free associating in the marginalia, that tender compassion I felt for Virginia Woolf, the exposed nerve that was her mind, too sensitive for the world. I think of the death of her brother Thoby, of the sexual abuse she endured in childhood, all the things she never got over. The sea, the water closing over the head. So much in a day. There are people I can’t protect. You can’t protect the dead. I think of the dead. She died without dignity. Does anyone die with dignity? Yes, some do. “Poetry doesn’t tell you how to bury the dead,” though I often think, as I’m looking at a patch of light while tidying my house, that poetry is the last defense of the sacred.

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wordsfromthesol · 3 years

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Avengers or Justice League (2/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial @anousiemay Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Word Count: 1.2k

Part One

You woke up several hours later, still in the passenger seat. It had definitely been longer than 2 hours. How were you not in New York yet…Before you could ask, Jason spoke up.

"So…welcome back. It's been a while. A lot has changed."

"I can see that. What happened?"

"Well I met the spider thing. Very helpful, definitely a child. But he said Bats was about 3 hours north of here. In a small town called Croatoa."

"Seriously?"

"I couldn't believe it either. Couldn't even find it on a map…but the kid gave me directions. Should be there in…now." Jason commented as he turned onto a dirt road. You had a feeling this wasn't going to end well.

You had been in this weird town for a few hours. All you had done was sit on the roof of the hotel and listen. The conversations…something was just off. You couldn't put your finger on exactly what. You were so zoned out that you didn't even hear Jason come up behind you.

"Something is off here. Right?" His voice broke your trance.

"Definitely." You nodded, reassuring him that he wasn't crazy.

"There's no crime here. At all. In the last 10 years. Not even a speeding ticket."

"Well the town is all dirt roads…" The comment was meant to put your minds at rest. It didn't. "Should we even be staying here? Crime does tend to follow us." Jason's bellowing laugh cut through the tension.

"I've already got us another room. About an hour away. It was the closest town to here." You moved to get up but stopped when you noticed Jason wasn't following you.

"Is there something else?" A look of concern graced your features.

"Why am I here? Good ole Bruce doesn't need me. Never has. I don't fit into the mold of his superhero gang. I shouldn't even be alive. Who thought I was worth saving?" It was as if someone dosed him with a truth serum. All the insecurities he felt began to pour out.

"Honestly…I have no idea why you were saved. Then again, why was I? Why didn’t that blast kill me? Why did Tony create something to save me? And why did Bruce teach me how to control the catastrophic energy inside of me?" Now you couldn't stop. There was something about this place. "We need to leave." You were barely able to muster up the words.

You still weren't sure how the two of you made it out of town, but as soon as you did it was like a switch flipped.

"By the way, Bruce's way of doing things…it's not always right. You don't need to fit into his mold." Even though the effects wore off, you still remembered everything Jason had said. Everything you had said. Those fears and uncertainties, you don't think you'd ever actually said them aloud. You could tell Jason hadn't either.

"Do you think he's there?"

"It's a pretty small town, I would've heard him…unless there was some underground bunker…" You turned towards Jason, realizing that that was an actual possibility. The rest of the drive was ridden in silence. Neither of you wanted to talk about the things that were said.

You had no idea where Jason went, but it had been hours. The two of you had to come up with a plan. It didn't take long for you to find him in an alleyway wailing on some drug dealer.

"Hey, Hood." You casually walked up next to him, leaning against the adjacent brick wall. He sent one final punch towards the dealer before turning towards you. "Don't you think we have more important matters?" Jason just stared at you, confused. You scoffed and starting walking back to the hotel, as you reached the end of the alley you called out, "If you want a lecture we'll have to find your dear ole dad."

You weren't surprised to hear Jason's footsteps quickly behind you. "Well do you know where to begin?"

"Kinda…I was thinking. And the power to affect people's minds like that has to be constantly going. Especially since it affected us."

"Yeah but that could be anything. A sound, emitting something into the air, even widescale mind control." You let out a defeated sigh as Jason continued. "I can call Miss Martian. If it's the latter."

"Alright, get her on standby. I'm going to call Tony. Maybe he has something we could use if it's a sound or air thing." You stopped dead in your tracks and turned towards Jason. "I just don't get why they would have Bruce. I get that he is inherently violent…but he still helps people. And they wouldn't need him if there was no crime…"

"I…" Jason started walking again, not wanting to think about the answer. "I'll get Tim on it. Just don't go back there until we know more."

Your eyes widened, "Yeah no, of course not."

Once you were sure Jason was asleep, you flew just outside the town limits and began circling the town. There had to be something you missed. It took almost 30 minutes for you to notice the sound. You stopped, hovering about 30 feet in the air, as you focused in on the noise. The next thing you knew you were plummeting to the ground, yet you couldn't stop yourself. It seemed as if Jason was at your side as soon as you hit the ground.

"Y/N! Are you kidding me?!"

Your eyes fluttered open to examine the damage around you. "I thought you were asleep."

"And I called bullshit the moment you said you wouldn't come back here." You didn't protest as he scooped you up and gently placed you in the car.

"It's sound." You mumbled as you fought off the headache.

"Guess I'll have to talk to the tin can again." He rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he watched your face contort in pain. "You okay?"

"Just karma for not listening to the all mighty Jason Todd."

A week had passed and it seemed the mission grew stagnant. Tony had developed a device that blocked the sound, which you had already tested, but there were still too many unknowns. Every meeting consisted of hypothesizing different situations and possibilities that could be encountered once everyone was inside.

"Enough already!" You shouted at the arguing heroes. "We could do this for months. It's pointless. We need to go now. Batman may not even be there anymore."

"Oh, uh…he is." Spiderman chimed in.

You furrowed your brow, "How do you know that?"

"I put a tracker on him. It's still there…" As the whole room burst out in laughter, Spiderman just looked around, confused. "What?!" His voice broke through.

"Oh…sweetheart." You began as you regained your composure. "There are three reasons that tracker works. One, he was brainwashed and actually didn't know it was there. Two, he put the tracker on something useless to send you on a wild goose chase. And three, he put the tracker somewhere he wanted you to go."

"Considering the creepy town, I'd rule out the second one." Dick chimed in.

"So do we just split up and find the entrance to the tunnels?" You could tell that Tim was ready to get this mission over, so you started doling out responsibilities.

"Tony starts at the north end, Nightwing and Robin at the east, Red Robin and Spiderman, the west. Red Hood and I will start at the south. We can't go in costume though. It will be too obvious."

"So we must reveal our identities to these inane people?" Damian was not happy with the situation, especially having to work with members of the Avengers.

"Just don’t say your name? We're trying to find Batman, this is more important than your secret identity."

You prayed that the sonic dampeners Tony developed would hold for the duration of the mission. You had no idea how long this would take. This situation seemed much more involved than some low level, one-off criminal. It was a demonstration, a practice round.

The town was small enough, so one of the groups had to stumble upon this entrance. The only tricky part was not drawing attention to yourselves. Seven strangers come to town at once…you were hoping whatever brainwashing protocol overlooked this fact. And you were right. No one gave you and Jason a second glance as the two of you strolled down the street. It had been almost an hour before you stumbled upon a potential entrance. As discreetly as possible, you opened the hatch and lowered yourself through the hole.

"So which way do we go?" Jason commented as he followed in suit.

"Left?" You figured you had a 50/50 shot, so you went with your gut. After all, if you went right, you wouldn't be in town for too much longer. "You should probably call the others. Have them rendezvous here, in case we run into trouble."

"Trouble from who? The townies?" You shrugged off his condescending tone. The two of you had been walking for a few minutes when you started to hear footsteps. People were running towards you.

"Uh, Jason…we need to move." Jason didn't bother to argue, as the urgency was pasted over your face. The two of you raced down the corridor until you saw something. "STOP! There's a room. There." You pointed towards the concrete block to your right.

"And does this room have a door?" You could tell by his tone, Jason wasn't afraid to make one. Your eyes scanned around the area until you found it. Not bothering to answer his question, you rushed towards the opening.

"And it's locked."

"Not for long," Jason smirked as knelt down to work on the lock. It was opened in seconds. Your eyes searched around the room in awe. There was video and audio of the entire city. Even inside people's homes.

"How do we --" Your question was interrupted by a loud banging against the door. "Just subdue, don't maim or murder." The comment was a reminder to both yourself and Jason. These were innocent unsuspecting townspeople, not criminals.

"Didn't need to be said!" You shoot a glare his way, to which he responds with a shrug of the shoulders. Just as the two of you braced for a fight, the banging stopped. Seconds later, Tim swung open the door.

"In a bit of a bind?"

"Does it look like we know how to operate this?" You pointed towards the various machines behind you. Tim nodded and got to work.

"So, no evil mastermind or Batman." You had convinced Jason to come back to the hotel with you and let the rest of them deal with the groggy and confused townspeople.

"Guess not."

"There's probably going to be more towns like this. You'll have to keep an eye out…"

"Oh. So you're leaving Earth then?" Jason's chest sank at the thought.

"Is there a reason I should stay?" You knew the answer, but you wanted him to say it. You wanted to make sure you weren't imagining everything.

"I can probably think of a few…"

#BatFam #batfam fanfic #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #batboys #batboys fanfic #batboys imagine #batboys x reader #batboys x you #Jason Todd #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood fanfic #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #jason todd x you #red hood x you

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iamverysmall-andihavenomoney · 3 years

Text

Finding Out That Their Career is Over

Haikyū!! Masterlist

Pairing(s): Oikawa Tōru x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Talk of knee injuries, angst,

A/N: Apparently, I just love giving Oikawa knee injuries.

If the pain hadn’t been enough, here he was, stuck in a rehabilitation program. With a few more months, his knee was looking towards a recovery, or at least, that’s what the doctors had told him, at first.

The pain was bearable, in his opinion. If he had his way, he’d have been back to the team, as soon as he’d recovered. But his doctors, nor his teammates would allow that. Most of all you, the lover who’d been with him, every step of the way, wouldn’t allow him to continue playing, until he was given an ‘okay’ by the doctors.

Watching him shakily stand from the seat beside yours, in the doctor’s office, you allow him to gently grasp your shoulder, to stabilize himself. He’d only just gotten off of his crutches a month ago, and after four months of dealing with them, he was relieved.

Tōru sends you a grateful smile, leaning over and gently kissing your temple, “Thank you, Y/N,” he whispers, moving his hand so he can place his arm gently over your shoulders, walking with him towards the office.

It had taken him a while to get used to putting some of his dependence on you. Tōru was an independent person. So getting used to having to place his hand on your shoulder to get up, to having to have you help him do mundane things like get up in the morning, to get into the shower, to get the bulky brace on, every morning... It was hard. He was trying to get used to it, he truly was. But going from an Olympic level athlete to, in his opinion, a below-average man who needed to depend on everyone around him, wasn't something that happened overnight.

Making it back to the room, you move to sit in the seat next to the small, plastic and paper encased bed where the patients were supposed to sit, while Tōru moves to take a seat on the bed. His legs hang over it, spread open a bit to allow his hands to rest in between his thighs, fingers picking lightly at his nails - a habit both of you had thought he'd dropped a long time ago.

Reaching over, you grasp the hand closest to you, giving it a gentle squeeze. Brown eyes shift to you and soften at the sight of your reassuring expression. Bringing your hand to his lips, he gently kisses each of your fingertips. "I love you."

You tilt your head, "I love you too, Tōru."

The wait for the doctor to come in only worsened Tōru’s steadily growing anxiety. Long digits fiddle with the fabric that keeps his knee supported. If you hadn’t been there to hold his hand through it, you were sure he would have lost his mind, trying to just wait for the doctor to come in.

Though the anxiety building up in you through the duration of your wait in that little room was nothing compared to the way your stomach dropped, when the doctor entered the room. His expression was near emotionless, despite the smile plastered on his old, wrinkled face.

“My boy,” both you and Tōru visibly cringed at the display of unwanted familiarity. You’d both been in this office far too often, recently.

“Hi, doc!” Despite his own worry, your husband manages to keep a clean face about things. “So, tell me: when am I due to return to volleyball?” He sat on the edge of the table, leaning forward in anticipation... Almost like a child might... You could only hope that there would be only good news, from here on in.

The hope that was filling his expression nearly broke your heart. He wanted to return to volleyball so badly. He deserved to go back. If only the universe wasn't so cruel.

The mood of the room changed and the smile slipped from the doctor’s features. “My boy, I’m afraid I don’t think that will be possible.”

Toru’s expression darkens, though it’s only for a moment. “That - That’s not true -... You and Dr.-”

“While we thought a full recovery was possible,” the older man continues, “After reexamination, we’ve realized that your knee, while you will have the strength to walk again, without any pain, will never be able to handle the type of pressure that your jumps put on it. Even with how remarkable your recovery has gone, thus far... You shattered your patella, Señor Oikawa. You were lucky to have made the recovery you did, as quickly as you did.”

You couldn’t breath for a moment, just staring at your husband. He’d worked to be on this team, doing what he loved, his entire life. It wasn’t fair that now he found himself not able to play. Watching the way emotions scattered through his features, you swallowed the lump in your throat. If the recovery hadn’t killed him, the grief of losing his entire career and livelihood might.

Disbelief, anger, denial, terror... The all struck his features faster than he could stop them, leaving him not only feeling lost, but leaving him feeling vulnerable in front of this near stranger. And he hated feeling vulnerable.

But how could he stop these emotions? His whole world came to a stand-still. All of those nights he'd stayed away for hours, before coming home to find you having fallen asleep trying to wait up for him, dinner now cold, on the table; all of those weeks at different training camps, when he wouldn't get to see you for what felt like an eternity; all of those years of perfecting his techniques and making a name for himself... It was all for nothing.

He wanted to leave. Now.

Without a word, he shoves himself up from where he was seated, walking haphazardly towards the door. He’s swinging it open by the time you can stand up and take the steps to reach him. “Don’t touch me.” His voice holds a bite you weren’t used to as he turns his back towards you, walking... Or rather, limping, away from the room.

You frown and turn to face the doctor, offering an apology and asking him to send the medical bill to your residence. Then, you take off after the tall male.

Making it to your car, you slide into the driver’s side, silent as you turn on the car. You don’t say anything until the car is running, “Tōru, you can’t just-”

“Why can’t I?” He snaps at you, shooting you a withering look, as if you were the cause of his injuries. “Why can’t I lose my temper? Please, give me a reason, Y/N. Please tell me why I can’t act the way I want to, when my life is in pieces."

"Since you seem to know so goddamn much, please tell me why I can't lose it. I've waited my entire life, only to fall just short of the Olympics? What good am I if I can't even do that?" Tōru wasn't made. It was upset, call it heart-broken, if you will. But all he could find himself doing was lashing out in anger, kicking his bad leg out to his the glovebox of your car.

Pain courses through his knee, making his let out a pained noise as he slowly sinks down into his seat. "I fucked it all up... I'm never gonna be..." He lets out a shaky breath. "I'm never going to make it. I should have fucking known, I-"

"Tōru, I love you, but shut up." Your tone makes watery eyes shift to you. "You are not going to sit here and tell yourself that you're useless and push me away." You grab his hand and lift it up, "You see these rings? Through hell and high water, Tōru. That's what we promised one another. You made it here. This is a setback, but it doesn't mean your career is over, with volleyball. Let's just... Go home. You can get mad, scream, hit the wall or something, whatever you need to. Then we can sit down and talk about what's next.

"I love you... You are going to make it through this. And I'm going to be here with you, every step of the way. Understood?"

Your husband lets out a shaky exhale, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I understand. I'm sorry I yelled at you," he slowly puts his head on your shoulder.

You could tell by the way his lip quivered that he was trying to hold it all in. But what good would that do?

Sliding back the center console you shift so he can lean into your embrace. No words are spoken as loud sobs begin to rip through his body. His lean form shakes against you as he cries. His sobs break your heart, though you couldn't imagine the pain he was in, at the moment.

His sobs didn't quiet for a while, in fact, as you soothed a hand through his soft hair, he only seemed to sob harder, almost as if he thought he'd disappointed you. Though, as he wore himself out, his sobs slowly quieted into soft whimpers. No matter if his sobs had quieted down or not, you weren't moving until he said something.

"I wanna go home."

That was all it took, before you were both back in your seats, on your way back to your shared home. You weren't sure how long it would take Tōru to be okay, again, or if he ever would be. But you'd fallen in love with him and made your vows. He's the love of your life and you promised that you would see him through it, to the end.

General Taglist:

@thathoneybee3 @bratkugo

#🤍.suna #tōru oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa tōru #saffrons works

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years

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Hello, I had a really cute idea for a request if you dont mind. Since it's been lockdown and stuff could I get a Zim x S/o where they're finally able to see eachother after isolation. Bonus for fluff if that's ok with you?

This request??? Amazing. Absolute perfection. And of course there’s going to be fluff!! Chaotic and feral Zim is great, but I love me some soft Zim.

Oh, and there’s no specific age here. Could be high school, could be adults, I’ll leave that up to the reader.

Blinking furiously, your eyes eventually settled on a squint as your phone cast painfully bright light into your face. The surrounding comfort of darkness was fended off by the harsh screen you continued to stare at. Nothing had changed in the past hour, nothing new was written. You weren't sure what you were hoping for.

A simple 'FINE' within a chat bubble marked the end of your conversation. Normally, you would snicker to yourself about how he flat out refused to write in lowercase, but the anxiety gnawing at your stomach prevented you from doing so.

Sighing, you rolled onto your side, hanging half off the bed in order to plug your phone in for the night. After that was accomplished, you flopped onto your back, staring into the black abyss that was your bedroom ceiling.

Quarantine had been a lot more difficult than you had originally thought. At first it was fun, you could be as much of an introvert as you wanted and could take care of your responsibilities on your own time and schedule, for the most part anyway. But once the weeks turned into months, and those months began to increase exponentially, it became a problem. Going just a bit stir crazy was bad enough, but the worst part was being unable to see Zim.

Again, at first, you didn't think it would be such a bad thing. He tended to get a bit clingy and possessive, so you thought a little me time would do you some good. But as time stretched onward, you realized that you missed the little roach bastard more than you had anticipated.

Of course you couldn't see him, considering not only the high human-to-human spread, but neither of you were quite sure to the extent Irkens would be affected, if it would be much more dangerous for Zim than an average human. As if that factor wasn't bad enough, Zim was already a huge germaphobe, so he rejected the idea of even socially-distanced hangouts with masks and all that.

So, being responsible and considerate, you had agreed to stick to text communication. It was fine at first, and you both talked regularly. Until about a month ago. Your worries began at the occurrence of two solid weeks of radio silence. Assuming the best, you waved it off as maybe he went to space and therefore couldn't get Earth cell reception. Finally, he had contacted you again, but brushed off any questions regarding the period of being off the grid. However, any response he gave you was short and simple, often a yes or no without elaboration, even to prompts where those answers weren't even valid.

This is where the unease began. Your mind began to run rampant with thoughts on the matter. What if he had gotten tired of you? The reasonable person inside of you told you that if that was indeed the case, then his loss, but that didn't mean you had to be happy about it. Just when you would convince yourself everything was fine, you managed to come back with something else, always a variation of the last negative thought. What if he had realized that he liked being alone, that he missed being a lone wolf soldier focused on destroying the world with no one to care about? You could never fully refute that one. After all, was a genetically modified alien soldier truly content being tied down by something such as a relationship?

The only thing that brought you any solace was that he had reached out to you that morning, requesting your presence at his base. Things had gotten better, allowing for the two of you to meet with contact, person to person. Well, person to Irken. Of course, your brain wouldn't let you enjoy that. It just had to spin some tale that would send you into a spiral of dread. Now, as you laid in your bed, sheets bunched in your fists, you were convinced that he wished to break up with you. Well, at least he had the decency to do so in person, if that even was the case.

You wanted nothing more than to be overjoyed that you would finally be able to see him after all this time. You had become quite attached to Zim, more than you ever would like to admit. You should be filled with excitement. However, you felt nothing but a sinking feeling that made your skin crawl.

"Just...please let me have a good night's sleep, would you?" You pleaded with your mind, shifting onto your side to face your wall, letting your eyes shut tight.

(more under the cut)

Unfortunately, you and your brain have two very different ways of defining 'a good night's sleep'. Trudging into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead, you couldn't hold back the massive yawn. Stretching, about ten different joints popped as you remembered tossing and turning for a majority of the night. The worst part was the two or so hour period of staring blankly at the ceiling, mind racing with ideas of nothing at all.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror revealed you to be looking like hell...and not on wheels. More like hell discarded on the side of the road next to an empty shopping bag. Dark circles rested under your eyes, which weren't only from the previous night. Your sleep schedule had been almost non-existent thanks to quarantine, some nights you wouldn't surrender to slumber until three in the morning, and other days you would succumb to sleep's tantalizing claws at four pm.

Not to mention that you could barely remember the last time you had worn anything but pajamas or sweats. Groaning, you pulled on presentable clothes, as if this was the largest inconvenience you could ever be faced with. Not that Zim would care, but you didn't want to be shown up in the outfit department by a being from beyond who wore the same saturated pink military uniform every day.

You didn't even bother to glance at the time, it wouldn't matter. Either way, Zim would most likely chide you for being late, even if you were an hour early. You weren't sure if the construct of time even existed in the reality that was Zim's mind. Now that you thought about it, you couldn't say for certain if you had even set a specific time arrangement. All you had agreed upon was to be there some time in the morning.

It didn't matter regardless, he would be there whenever you decided to show up. He hadn't left his base once for the duration of quarantine. Zim had patience when it came to being cooped up for long periods of time, you would give him that much. It was about the only time he had patience, but it counted nonetheless.

That negative feeling wouldn't cease tugging at you as you meandered your way to Zim's base, quite literally dragging your feet down the sidewalk. Occasionally, you would come across a stray stone or pinecone, and you'd strike out with a half-hearted kick, watching it skitter across the pavement.

The entire walk was forgettable, and you had made the trek enough times for your brain to transition into autopilot until you made it to the fence line. The first few times you went to his place were unsettling. Now, you were completely unfazed as the security gnomes eyed you when you padded up the sidewalk, approaching the door. Their beady laser eyes tracked your every breath, but by this point you were unbothered. Besides, you were fairly sure that Zim had put you on the white list, so they shouldn't shoot at you unless it was a direct order.

You pressed the doorbell, folding your hands neatly in front of you as you waited for Zim to answer, scrambling to get a heartfelt speech together in your head. Whatever string of words you had managed to stitch together was thrown out the window when the door swung open, revealing a very animated GIR decked out in his doggy disguise. He frantically waved a black 'paw' to you, a grin splitting his face.

"Hi, Sparky!!" He hollered in your face, greeting you with a name that wasn't yours, per usual. Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he began talking again, in very much an outside voice. A chip right off the old Irken block. "Didja bring the pizza?!" The little robot inspected your arms curiously, stepping around you to make sure you weren't hiding the greasy pie behind your back.

"I, uh, wasn't aware I was supposed to be bringing pizza." You knew this was just an instance of GIR being GIR, but you went along with it anyway. He couldn't help himself, it was just the way he was wired. Or, maybe it was the fact that his brains consisted of useless pocket junk. It didn't really matter. GIR moved back to stand obediently in the doorway, you peering around the frame to see if Zim was anywhere to be found. He wasn't, which only made the nerves worse. Despite your worry, you kept your voice even and neutral. "May I come in?"

"Mhm!" He hummed, jumping aside to let you in. You closed the door behind you, standing around awkwardly for a moment before turning back to GIR, who was already shimmying out of his doggy suit.

"Do you know where Zim is?" Something seemed to click with GIR, however, it was not something that would answer your question. The poor robot burst into tears, which also wasn't out of the ordinary, falling face first into the floor and pounding his metal claw on the tile.

"That boy missed you so much!! He so sad, he even cried!! He loves youuu...!" He wailed, loud enough to draw Minimoose into the room who offered a soft and sad 'Nyah', seemingly agreeing with the statement. You couldn't confirm, since only Zim and GIR were fluent in the language you lovingly called 'Moosinese'. Tears continued to stream down the robot's metal face as he screamed, Minimoose resting a comforting purple nub on his back.

"Is that true?" Your response was calm, having dealt with GIR's outbursts many a time. You couldn't attest to the accuracy of his words, considering correct information was almost similar to a Russian roulette wheel when it came to GIR.

And as if nothing had ever happened, the robot immediately perked up, popping up to his feet with a smile, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Yep!! Master's been down in the base the whole time!! Just sittin' there all shmoopy-like!" A giggle followed, pushing his previous bout of sadness into the past.

"Nyah!" Minimoose showed you a bucktooth grin as he looked to you purposefully.

"Really? Fascinating." Again, you couldn't speak Moosinese, but still, you nodded. The purple moose appeared to be satisfied with your response, floating off to who knows where.

"You wanna come play with the piggy with me?!" GIR bounced up and down, eager to drag you off to roll around on the floor and have a tea party with whatever pig he had brought home this week.

"Maybe some other time, GIR." You weren't opposed to spending time with the little robot, but he wasn't exactly who you were here to see. He didn't seem offended, all he did was shrug his metal shoulders.

"Okie dokie!" He brought his claw up to his forehead in a salute, turning away from you and making a mad dash to the kitchen. You heard a noisy metallic clang echo from the kitchen, and you didn't need to witness the event to visualize GIR smacking face-first into the cabinet.

"Careful, GIR! My milk squid experiment is in there!" A familiar voice rang out from the kitchen, and two immediate questions sprung to mind. The first was why in the name of anything would you keep milk in the cabinet (even if it related to a squid)? The second being just what in the hell had he been doing all this time?

The whiny complaints had quieted to low grumbles as just the alien you wanted to see paced into the living room, eyes cast downwards, antennae drooping. The words that had been forming in your throat were choked into barely a squeak when you got a closer look at him. Zim still didn't seem to notice you, red bug eyes trained on the tile, hands clasped behind his back. That wasn't the surprising bit. A jacket you thought you had lost some time ago was thrown on over his invader uniform. You couldn't remember if maybe you had left it there or maybe Zim had taken without your knowledge, but either way, he was swimming in it. The sleeves were rolled up to meet his wrists, gloved hands peeking out from the fabric. Most of the jacket itself was well past his thighs, stopping just above the knee. It had been just a bit big on you, so of course it would be massive on him. You felt any unease you were feeling immediately leave at the sight. Clearly, he hadn't been enjoying the separation as much as you thought.

"I was wondering where that coat went." A chuckle slipped past your lips. Finally, Zim seemed to notice you, head snapping in your direction, antennae perking up to attention.

"Eh?" He didn't quite register your phrase, almost as if he had been wearing your coat for so long that he had forgotten it wasn't a part of his usual attire. "Y/n, I don't-" Zim looked down at himself, finally realizing why you were staring at him like that. He wriggled out of the jacket faster than you could gush about how adorable it was, throwing it forcefully behind the couch. "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!!" He shrieked, pointing a clawed finger at you, antennae flattening against his head in curt embarrassment.

"So, you like my stuff, huh?" You asked cheekily, relishing in his refusal to look at you as he unknowingly clutched the hem of his invader uniform, scuffling his boots on the tile. You couldn't help but snicker. It wasn't often Zim would let himself be sheepish, since he normally knew nothing of shame.

"Nonsense!" He waved a hand dismissively, eyes still refusing to meet yours, although without his contacts, it was a bit hard to tell where exactly he was looking if his head wasn't turned. Crossing his arms tight to his chest, he wracked his brain for possible excuses. "I was just, er, working on repairs and didn't want to get my clothes dirty! Yes! I found this filthy piece of clothing and figured it would suffice." You rolled your eyes, knowing full well he would never admit to the true motivations behind his actions.

Lucky for you, someone else chimed in to voice your exact thoughts. "That's a lie." The computer spoke up from nowhere in particular, monotone voice bringing a growl to rise from Zim's throat.

"YOU'RE LYING!! There is no evidence of this!" The Irken jabbed a claw up towards the direction of the many cables and wires strung across the ceiling. This wouldn't be the first time you've witnessed him get into a spat with his computer. They could be quite entertaining to watch, actually.

"Proof." The computer said in a matter-of-fact tone, the gargantuan TV screen buzzing to life, static clearing to reveal a recording of internal base camera feed. The date was in Irken, but you were wise enough to surmise that it was from some time over the quarantine.

The screen displays Zim begrudgingly wandering over to the voot cruiser in the hangar. In the video feed, he looks decently depressed, antennae slack and hanging limp, posture slouched. He climbed into the ship, looking for something. Whatever it was, his search came to an unresolved end as he lifted your jacket from the seat. Apparently, you had left it in there the last time he had taken you for a flight. His eyes darted around to make sure he wasn't being watched, slipping on the coat and hugging his arms to his chest. The sleeves extended well past his hands. He brought them to his face, sniffing them. A delighted smile ghosted his mouth as he rubbed the sleeves against his face.

"Why would you record that?!" His voice cracked at the end, and you were trying your best to hold in a laugh as the TV faded back to static for a split second before opening on another instance.

This time the video depicted GIR and Zim sprawled out on the couch, watching something on the TV. Zim was wrapped in your coat as if it were a blanket, seeming to be content enough with it. GIR had reached out a claw for the article of clothing, wishing to share. Zim hissed, yanking the coat away from his grip, swiping a clawed hand out like a cat. Clearly, he wanted it all to himself.

This time you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. You tried to apologize, especially since the Irken standing next to you looked absolutely horrified. You were sure he felt his dignity had just faded away right along with the video feed.

"Oh, and my personal favorite." The computer added helpfully as yet another recording presented itself on the TV. This one was a bit tougher to make out.

Zim was down in the depths of the base, and much was dark, the only light being cast from a large monitor just off screen. You were able to see Zim, sitting on the floor, sporting your jacket. He stared longingly at the sleeves that covered his hands. After a moment he shoved his face into his arms and knees as tears slipped down his face. You could only make out the tears due to the light being thrown from the monitor, making them glisten like jewels. Separation appeared to be much harder on him than you had thought. Maybe that was why he had been ignoring you, although it seemed counterproductive. It was possible that texting you made him miss you more.

Zim was not amused in the slightest by this particular clip. He stamped his foot on the tile, making frenzied cutting motions with his arms.

"COMPUTER!!!" His voice was high in volume, but a nervous chuckle laced each syllable. "I think that is quite enough!"

The computer groaned, cutting the feed back to static, eventually switching the TV off completely. "I was just trying to be accurate."

"You only seem to care about accuracy when it is of no benefit to Zim!!" You could only imagine what was going through Zim's head in the moment, because from the outside, he was a ball of red hot rage. However, the computer was having none of his antics, going dormant once more.

"Zim? You're up here." You raised a hand above your head to indicate his anger level. "I need you to be down here." You lowered your hand to your abdomen, knowing that was a complete stretch to ask for. Especially since he was so upset he was stringing together curses in Irken. He would only speak in his native tongue around you when he was incredibly furious. His teeth were gritted tightly, foot tapping audibly on the tile.

"That damn computer." His growl was closer to that of a feral animal, and although he was calm enough to speak in English, he still required some de-escalation.

"Relax, we'll just pretend it never happened."

"Good. Forget about those recordings." His eyes were narrowed, but he was relenting his irritation.

"What recordings?" You shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Zim seemed appeased, and in a split second, all of his anger was gone and replaced by something else entirely. All the fight seemed to leave his body as he looked to you, red eyes softening completely when they caught your own. He seemed relieved to see you, as if being away was one of the hardest things he had been through in years.

Wordlessly, he strode over to you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your chest. Soft Zim was a rare occurrence, but these moments were something you absolutely treasured. It almost made the months of isolation worth it.

You returned the action, and the second you put your arms around him, every muscle in his body relaxed. It was a bit strange, really. To have a hardened alien soldier all but melt in your arms. He wrapped his legs around you as well, clinging to you like a koala. It wasn't hard to maintain balance since he really wasn't all that heavy.

"Couch." He mumbled, his chin resting on your shoulder as his arms were draped around your neck, your own arms supporting him under his legs. A chuckle fell from your lips at his behavior. At first it seemed like he had no energy, but in reality, it was closer to him being soothed by your presence. You were about the only living creature, scratch that, the only thing in the entire universe that could ease him like this; even he wasn't sure why you had this effect on him.

"Sure thing." You walked him over to the couch, using one arm to snag your jacket off the floor before sinking down into the cushions. There was a bit of a strange smell emanating from where you sat, most likely due to GIR spilling countless snacks, messes that weren't completely cleaned up. It wasn't super potent, and in that particular moment, it wasn't one of your concerns.

As you sat on the couch, Zim remained cuddled into you. A snicker slipped out as you tossed your coat over him as if it were a blanket. At first you assumed he would protest, proclaiming that he wasn't cold, nor a weak little smeet who needs to be cared for. So when he removed his arms from you, you were bracing yourself for a lecture and/or rant. However, all he did was tuck the jacket around him better, silently snaking his arms back around you afterward.

"You really did miss me, huh?" It was a redundant question, since without even saying, you both were aware of the answer. Still, you wished to hear him say it. It would put you in good spirits.

"Your absence was...not pleasant." His voice was uncharacteristically hushed, muffled by your clothes. His words were chosen delicately, as they always were when he didn't want to admit to something that he knew to be true.

"So you missed me." The smile that was spread on your face shone through your voice.

"If that is what you would like to think." Zim made an attempt at being snarky, but any mockery in his words was half-hearted at best. Breathing a sigh, you let your head fall back against the back of the couch. You knew full well that was the best you could hope to glean from him, even in his current subdued state.

"For the record, I missed you too."

"As you should. Zim is very great." Looking down, you were met with a sight that melted your heart. The coat still wrapped around him, arms still clinging to you as if you would walk out any minute. Zim's eyes were closed as he laid his head in your lap, quiet purrs rising from his throat as your fingers absentmindedly played with his antennae. You almost thought he would fall asleep.

"I know. You're the coolest Irken I know." You may have only known one, but still. Zim was pretty amazing in your book, despite being a self-absorbed idiot at times. A pleasant silence settled over the room for a moment as you continued to twirl his antennae between your fingers.

His eyes still closed, Zim spoke again, mumbling, "Zim's next plan is to eradicate these abhorrent human pandemics." The words slurred together a bit, and although you knew Irkens to not sleep due to lack of biological necessity, whenever he was completely relaxed, he tended to get drowsy.

"Good luck with that. I support your efforts one hundred percent." Despite the first statement harboring a twinge of sarcasm, the second was completely genuine.

"Does Zim detect a hint of ridicule?" His words may have been a challenge, but not a single eye opened even a crack, not a single muscle in his body so much as twitching.

"All I'm saying is I haven't seen much progress on your original plan of eradicating the humans, and it's been how many years?"

"Quiet or I'll steal another one of your inferior human zip-cloth thingies." He may not have technically stolen the first one, but you had to make a mental note to keep track of your jackets and hoodies. Or at the very least, make sure to keep the ones you wore often out of reach. You supposed in the end it didn't really matter. You would know where to find them if they did happen to go missing. And besides, he did look rather cute in them.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim x reader #zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim one shot #invader zim oneshot #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #request

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grailfinders · 3 years

Text

Fate and Phantasms #122: Tristan

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re building another member of the Round Table, Sir Tristan, the “child of sadness”. This knight’s bowstrings are equal part deadly weapons and musical instruments, but his most dangerous weapon is just look at that final ascension art all the KotRT were so close I’m not crying you’re crying.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: Sun’s out, guns out.

Race and Background

Don’t worry, we’re not doing anything weird this time. Tristan is, in fact, a human! As a Variant Human, you get +1 to Dexterity and Wisdom, Performance proficiency, and the Sharpshooter feat. Any cover less than full won’t affect your aim, and you can fire at long range normally. Additionally, you can take a -5 penalty to hit for a +10 bonus to damage.

Much like Lancelot, you’re a Knight of the Order, giving you Religion and Persuasion proficiency.

Ability Scores

Make sure your Wisdom is high- you can hit headshots without opening your eyes, that’s some real good perception. Second is your Charisma, your bow is also a harp, and you’re really good with it. Following that up is Dexterity. Your harp is also a bow, and you’re really good with it. Writing deadly lyrics on the fly isn’t easy, so your Intelligence isn’t bad. After that is Strength- bows actually take a lot of strength to use, but you don’t really need it here so...

That being said, we’re still dumping Constitution. You’re famously unlucky, and you died to poison, that’ll affect your HP almost as badly as Okita.

Class Levels

1. Ranger 1: Being a paladin would be nice, but smiting doesn’t work with ranged weapons. You know what does? Being a ranger. First level rangers get proficiency with Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as three ranger skills. Grab Animal Handling, Athletics, and Perception for better horsemanship and archery skills.

Speaking of better skills, first level rangers can also be Canny, doubling your proficiency bonus in Performance. You can also mark a creature when you hit them thanks to Favored Foe. Once per turn for the next minute, you can add 1d4 to your damage against that target. It’s a bit weaker than Hunter’s Mark, how sad. You can also use it a number of times per long rest equal to your proficiency bonus.

2. Ranger 2: For your fighting style, Blind Fighting is almost completely useless, but it does explain how you’re able to fight without opening your eyes. (Seriously though if you want a semi-serious build go with Archery, it’s so much more useful than 10′ of darkvision.)

You can also cast Spells this level using your Wisdom. Grab Cure Wounds for some feel-good music, and Snare for your first rope trap. I said you were really good with that bow, and I meant it. This spell creates a rope trap in a 5 foot cube that requires an investigation check (DC eight plus proficiency plus wisdom modifier) to notice. A creature that triggers the trap has to make a dexterity save (same DC) or it’s restrained above the ground. Each turn, the trapped creature can make another dexterity save at disadvantage or another creature can make an Arcana check to free the creature.

3. Ranger 3: Third level rangers join a conclave, and you’re so depressing you’re a Gloom Stalker. You get Disguise Self as part of your subclass, though it’s not particularly in character for you. How sad. You’re also a Dread Ambusher, adding your wisdom to intiative. You can also move faster on your first turn, and you can make an extra attack with your action that turn as well. The extra attack also deals an extra 1d8 damage. You also gain Umbral Sight, a.k.a. 60 feet of darkvision, rendering that blind fighting almost entirely useless. Also, while in darkness, you’re invisible to other creatures with darkvision.

You also get Primeval Awareness, letting you spend an action and spell slot to sense aberrations, celestial, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, and undead within a mile of you. Finally, you get another spell. Entangle creates a larger area snare that requires a strength save to break free from if you’re caught in the area when it’s cast. Regardless, the area is difficult terrain until your concentration is broken.

4. Ranger 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Dexterity for a higher AC and better archery skills.

5. Ranger 5: Fifth level rangers get an Extra Attack with their attack action, and they can cast second level spells. Your free spell here is another very fancy way to use your bowstrings, Rope Trick. This spell sends a rope 60′ straight up and creates an extradimensional space for you and up to seven friends. You’re relatively safe inside for the duration, just make sure you’re out before the hour’s up. Falling sixty feet doesn’t seem like fun.

You can also create a Cordon of Arrows to protect an area, throwing four arrows at creatures who come too close. Almost as deadly as your bow, and significantly less work for you.

6. Bard 1: I told you we were making that bow a harp. First level bards can cast Spells using their Charisma, and they can mete out Bardic Inspiration as a bonus action, giving an ally a d6 they can add to one skill check, saving roll, or attack roll. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to your charisma modifier.

For spells, Prestidigitation will help you turn your bowstrings into smaller objects; Vicious Mockery, Dissonant Whispers, and Bane give you minor curses you can place with your dirges; and Healing Word and Heroism gives you some more positive energy to hand out to party members. Don’t get those mixed up, that would be sad.

You also get another skill proficiency; you’re good at getting out of the way of attacks, so I’d say that’s Acrobatics.

7. Bard 2: Second level bards are Jack of All Trades, giving you half proficiency on all your checks that don’t already have your proficiency bonus. You also make Camelot a bit more lively with your Song of Rest, enhancing healing done during short rests by 1d6. Finally, you get Magical Inspiration, meaning your inspiration dice can now be used to give spells more damage or healing.

For spells, you can now turn your bowstrings into a safety net, thanks to Feather Fall.

8. Bard 3: Your college of choice is the College of Whispers, giving you the ability to curse people in casual conversation thanks to your Words of Terror. Speaking to a humanoid alone for at least a minute forces a wisdom save or they become frightened of a creature of your choice for an hour or until they or their allies are seen being attacked. You can use this once per short rest. Go on, make your king afraid of herself, I’m sure it won’t backfire.

You also get Psychic Blades, allowing you to burn inspiration to add psychic damage to your attack once per round.

Finally, you get Expertise in two skills, doubling your proficiency bonus. Grab Perception to help you see with closed eyes and Performance because I’m a sucker for quadrupling things.

You can also cast Lesser Restoration for a stronger form of healing music, removing some of your party’s debuffs.

9. Ranger 6: At sixth level your Favored Foe grows to 1d6, making it almost as good as Hunter’s Mark. You also become Roving, giving you 5 extra feet of movement, plus a swimming and climbing speed. You might not get a fancy magic horse like the other knights of the round but... actually no, you should probably still get a horse.

10. Ranger 7: Seventh level Gloom Stalkers get an Iron Mind, giving you proficiency in Wisdom saves. You can also cast Healing Spirit this level for some hands-free healing, so you can heal while you heal! Or curse while you heal, either’s good.

11. Bard 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Charisma for more inspiration and better bard spells. You can also cast True Strike if you need to remember what a tragedy looks like, or Calm Emotions to make your enemies too depressed to fight.

12. Bard 5: Your Bardic Inspiration and Psychic Blades both grow in power, and you become a Font of Inspiration, recharging your inspiration on short rests instead of long ones.

Your final bardic spell is Bestow Curse, allowing you to technically do anything you want with the DM’s approval. Given curses include: Disadvantage on one ability score’s checks and saves. Disadvantage on attack rolls against you. Wasting a turn every time they fail a wisdom save. Dealing extra damage to them. Have some fun with it, they certainly won’t.

13. Ranger 8: Bump up your Wisdom with this ASI for a better initiative and stronger spells. You’re also Fleet of Foot, meaning you can move through difficult terrain quickly, and you don’t take damage from nonmagical plants. You also get advantage on magical plant spells. Not... super useful, but it’ll give you a better shot against Poison Ivy.

14. Ranger 9: Ninth level Gloom Stalkers can cast Fear, in case you weren’t giving your foes enough debuffs as is, and you also get Conjure Barrage to make your Failnaught truly unavoidable. Except by monks. And rogues. Still pretty good though.

15. Ranger 10: You’re now Tireless, meaning you can spend an action (a number of times per long rest equal to your proficiency bonus) to gain temporary hp. Your exhaustion also decreases on short rests too. You can also use Nature’s Veil to become invisible for a round as a bonus action, the same number of times per long rest as Tireless. We’re going a bit heavy on the evade spam here to make up for the fact that we dumped constitution what is wrong with us.

16. Ranger 11: Thanks to your new Stalker’s Flurry, you can’t miss even if you do miss- you can make an extra attack as part of your attack action if one of your normal attacks missed.

You can also cast Protection from Energy this level, because honestly we weren’t sure what to do here. You’ll get more Tristany spells when we get fourth level slots, promise.

17. Ranger 12: For your final ASI, bump up your Charisma again for stronger bard spells and a better performance overall.

18. Ranger 13: For your fourth level spells, Freedom of Movement and Greater Invisibility give you even more ways to avoid capture and damage. Ah, they keep missing. How sad.

19. Ranger 14: Your Favored Foe grows to a d8 now, and you can Vanish as a bonus action, meaning you can hide and nobody can track you without magic.

20. Ranger 15: Fifteenth level Gloom Stalkers can make a Shadowy Dodge as a reaction, giving disadvantage on an attack roll against you if the attack wasn’t made with advantage.

You can also turn your bowstrings into a Grasping Vine, forcing your opponents to dance like puppets. On a- on a string. You get it?

Pros

Thanks to all those evades you can pump out and your ability to maneuver in darkness, you’re very hard to hit. Turn invisible, dodge weirdly, stay invisible, or make your target fear you, it’s all good.

Thanks to your curses and fear building skills, you’re a good debuffer, which can help whittle powerful enemies down while your party starts getting hits in.

Thanks to spells like Cordon of Arrows, Snare, and Grasping Vine, you can also set up plenty of battlefield hazards to control and slow enemy movement. Nobody wants to rush in just to get flung into the air like a Tom and Jerry cartoon.

Cons

Remember how we dumped constitution at the beginning? That’s going to bite us in the ass. Even at level 20, you still have less than 100 hp, meaning if a wizard with Power Word Kill spots you your story’s ending early. This is why going invisible is so useful for you.

Blind Fighting would be more of a gimmick usually, but you’re an archer! Seriously, just take archery.

Being a bard and a ranger means you split your magic abilities between charisma and wisdom, eating up a lot of ASIs that could have gone towards your dexterity or constitution instead for more survivability and bow damage.

#Fate Grand Order #DND 5e #FGO #Tristan #Fate and Phantasms #Ranger #Bard

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2.43 S1 Chapter 2.4 - Dracula and Princess Briar Rose

4. BEAUTIFUL WORLD

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“Suemori-san.”

I was startled when my name was called. It was a calm voice that was humble but not excessively servile.

Kanno stood at a distance of about three meters from me. I was holding the net at the center line, and Kanno’s feet were above the attack line, so he was actually three-meters away. There was a clear difference in height now without even having to stand side by side to compare. I think it was a difference of six or seven centimeters. I didn’t think…it was past ten centimeters, but… When I was picturing myself next to Kanno in my head, even though he squirmed a bit uncomfortably, he didn’t apologize fearfully and meaninglessly like in our first year.

Suemori-san. I pondered the voice that called me. The last time he called me “Ibara-chan” was last September. And I feel like this was the first time he called me “Suemori-san”—we hadn’t called each other’s names once during these nine months. I wondered at what point during those blank nine months did I change from “Ibara-chan” to “Suemori-san” within Kanno.

“About the ballgame tournament, I received the list of who’s in each event for our club, so I have been told by my senpais to consult with Suemori-san and decide the allocation of duties, but…”

He’s still speaking with formal language mixed in, even to someone in his own grade, I thought, and while feeling something that was like nostalgia and sadness, I said, “It’s fine. If that’s the case, let’s do it on our way home today.”

I tried my best to respond in a natural manner, trying to be somewhat distant for the three meters of space Kanno had opened between us, but also not too blunt. I’ll be in your care, Kanno said, bending his long back and quickly bowing his head.

I watched his back as he left, him who was dressed unseasonably as ever with his long T-shirt and long pants, even though it was June. Kanno still participated in the girls’ team practice for half of the week, but ever since they witnessed his seizure on the outside court, no members made fun of him anymore. On the contrary, there was a mood of “Kanno-kun is working so hard even though it’s hard on his body,” and everyone became weirdly nice to him. Even now, when he ran over to the girl who was drawing the net strings to the side of the pole and said “I will do it” as he reached out his hand, he was politely refused with “It’s fine. Akiton should sit down” and ended up having nothing to do. Akiton was Kanno’s new nickname. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard Dracky at all lately.

From where I was looking, I thought that seemed pretty awkward, but anyways, my role as Kanno’s (unwilling) knight was no longer necessary.

I noticed that there was a girl looking at us from the entrance of the gym. It was Ayano, holding a basket lined with drink bottles.

“…I feel like I haven’t seen Ibara-chan and Akiton talking in a long time.”

“Oh, we’re just getting in touch about clerical work, for the ballgame tournament. I’m helping the boys this year.”

I felt like I was being glared at, so I unintentionally made an excuse. It wasn’t even an excuse, it really was nothing more than talk about work. “You don’t have to worry about that,” Ayano said, her lips tapering into a pout and she turned away.

“No, no, I’m not worrying about it at all…”

Nonetheless, my behavior towards Ayano was still mostly filled with a sense of guilt. Ayano might like Kanno…looking at her actions during that incident last year, even I, who was completely unfamiliar with matters of love, could tell that. I wondered if she confessed to him…I didn’t know what happened after that incident, since my conversations with Ayano had decreased considerably since then. I did the worst possible thing—disparaging a girl’s body in front of the boy she liked.

“It’s thanks to Ibara-chan that I lost weight, so I’m really not thinking anything right now…”

Ayano muttered in a slightly soft voice while still turning away.

That’s right. Ayano, who had been chubby, had slimmed down quite a lot since then and, taking advantage of her bust and hips which had been ample by nature, now attained well-balanced proportions. It seemed that my words triggered her to go on a diet. I was surprised at the unexpected willpower that lay sleeping within Ayano. That wasn’t at all. Maybe because her body was lighter, her play became agile and nimble, and she became a bench member in her second year. Since she didn’t have the stature, her spike power was inferior, but she was praised for her thorough and careful defense. What I hated so much and concluded that a strong player didn’t need, Ayano became stronger without throwing it away.

On the other hand, as for me—as evidenced by the fact that I was dispatched as a coordinator with the boys’ team for the ballgame tournament, I had been languishing without being selected for the bench. In middle school, if I worked hard, the results of my hard work came naturally to me, but since I became a high schooler, I kept getting betrayed by myself.

I loved volleyball. I wanted to be better than everyone else. I was willing to cut away anything that would hinder me from that. As a result, I ended up losing my friendship with Ayano, the reverence from Kanno, and my pride as a volleyball ace that should have been everything to me.

“Yeah…now I’ve become the most shameful and useless thing.”

I let out a weak self-deprecatory remark. “Ibara-chan…” Ayano turned her face towards me. The top of her nose was wrinkled, and she looked she was about to cry.

“Ibara-chan, you’re not going to quit the team, are you…?”

I didn’t answer her, only giving a forced smile.

I had actually received a club withdrawal form. The coordinator thing this time made it doubly sure for me, and I had made up my mind. I intended to write my name on it and hand it in after the ballgame tournament work was done, and leave volleyball. I intended to seriously quit it.

——Until the day before yesterday.

The day before yesterday, when I saw the boys’ practice on the outside court——.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The ball that rose high up into the blue sky shone in the afternoon sunlight, burning my eyes. The one who took off from behind the attack line and rushed in like a bullet was that first-year, Kuroba Yuni.

That was a back-row attack? That jump distance was unbelievable. He jumped in with his whole body all the way to the net, as though he was attacking from the front row. His figure, arched in midair, seemed stationary, as though it was a photo. Such a long flight duration. His arm flexed like a spring that had stored up energy and returned it all at once, and he punched in the ball.

However, in the next moment there was a cloud of dust rising on Kuroba’s side of the court. “Daaah—” Kuroba groaned in frustration as he sank down and landed. Even I, who should have been calmly watching on the courtside, lost sight of the ball’s trajectory for an instant, but Aoki-senpai, who had jumped for a commit block, covered it with his long arms and shot down the bullet spike.

Amazing…just amazing. That was so cool. I couldn’t suppress the long-forgotten thumping of my heart. Each moment of that play was bold and so fast that I almost couldn’t follow it with my eyes. Just when I thought the ball had disappeared from my view, a dust cloud leapt up from the ground with a dynamic sound, like something exploding. I squinted many times at the dazzling aerial battle that unfolded while causing grains of light to burst into the air.

For me, the most beautiful sport on Earth was there.

There was a world that I couldn’t stop longing for, so much that it was painful.

For the first time since I reaped what I sow and lost many things, I thought that I did love volleyball after all, and I didn’t want to quit. Perhaps now, I could say this with the purest feelings I had since I met this sport.

I loved volleyball.

***

It took twenty-five minutes riding on a local line that was only composed of two cars to go from Nanafu to Monshiro. Bench seats against the windows were only placed on both sides of each door, and the rest were box seats with seats for two facing each other. Kanno and I occupied one of those seats, and we sat shallowly on them with our knees facing each other.

“…Even assuming we can manage with the staff for the first and second games, the problem starts from the third game and after. When Team C’s match starts, the team members will pack the court, and we’ll have to get the members who went out to basketball and futsal back immediately…”

“I think we’ll definitely not have enough staff at some point.”

“We’ll have to adjust the games so we’ll have enough. We’ll move the fourth game of Team E versus Team F over here, and the sixth game with Team D versus Team F…”

“Oda-senpai is in Team F, so I think it’ll work out well.”

“Oh, I see.”

While we were humming and hawing, at a loss, the two of us wrote on both sides of the notebook that was spread out on our laps. The notes were becoming unreadable due to the flood of arrows, boxes, strikethroughs, and desperate-looking messy lines.

The boys’ volleyball team had just eight members. From that, we would send out four people as staff members for each game, and there were those who took part in each event as competitors apart from that, so it would be impossible to run the boys’ volleyball division without the full rotation of eight people on a meticulously calculated time schedule. A lunch break was out of the question, and we might not even be able to give them a bathroom break. I mean, even if you rotate them at full speed, it was bound to break down somewhere, right?

Looking down at the messy notebook, I got a headache. Ah, I wanted to open the window and just throw it outside.

Around seven p.m., there was still a thin light outside the window. Come to think of it, summer solstice was approaching, so this was the time of the year with the longest daylight. After passing through the cities of Nanafu and Suzumu, the two-carriage train was moving a slow pace through the countryside wrapped in a warm, dim light. Since the rice planting was just finished in May, there were still only green seedlings planted in the fields. The water surface limitlessly reflected the distant mountains.

Every time the car swayed a little too much, I felt ticklish from the rubbing of my kneecap against Kanno’s kneecap beneath his spread-out notebook. I was tempted to retract my leg, but it felt somewhat like a waste of time to do so.

“We both got some irritating work forced on us, huh.”

Though I was grumbling, that was why we didn’t have to finish talking about work for the time being. However, Monshiro Station was already coming up soon. Usually, I slept for the twenty-five-minute ride when I could sit down, but each minute and second felt strangely precious today.

I curled my back and dropped my gaze to the notebook. Kanno also looked down at the same notebook from above my head. I had my toes standing up, and Kanno’s heels were on the floor. The fact that the notebook was kept level meant that the length below our knees was that much different. He just kept shooting up.

He’s got an awfully big lead on me, I thought once again, but strangely, the jealousy and hatred and uneasiness and chaotic feelings I had in my first year that made my heart hopelessly ugly, did not appear anymore. I wonder if I matured a step…that also felt wrong, and I was quite confused about myself.

“I don’t really think it’s irritating. I’m having fun right now.”

I heard a whisper above my head. My heart leapt at the word “fun,” but,

“I only play with the guys half of the time, and I can’t help much with setting up or cleanup, so…I’m glad I’m able to help out with this kind of work, because it makes me feel like I’m doing club activities with everyone else. The senpais didn’t say anything about that, but I think they knew that and gave me this job.”

“I guess you’re more comfortable in the boys’ team, huh?”

I didn’t mean that sarcastically, but it must have sounded like I was, because Kanno flinched and his face tightened. It seemed that he still hadn’t fixed his habit of peeking at my expression.

“The senpais on the boys’ team seem like good people. The girls’ team has a strange atmosphere, and you can’t always go all out, can you? I know you’re holding back in the intra-team games.”

“Well…if I go all out, I’ll blow the girls away.”

In the past, he might have put himself down and immediately apologized with a “I’m sorry,” but he pouted slightly as he plainly affirmed that. It was as if something like the core of self-confidence had taken root within Kanno, and I felt relieved, but at the same time, I felt somewhat sad for some reason.

Even before I realized it, Kanno himself must have been aware that he was starting to outstrip the girls in terms of strength and was out of place among them. And that wasn’t something that could be obtained “without much effort, just by the good luck of being born a boy,” like I had accused him of before.

I happened to see Kanno in his training wear in my neighborhood last year on an early autumn night. He was jogging and entered the park near the middle school, and unconsciously concealing my presence, I watched him do strength training on the bars and seesaw until the end.

Kanno somewhat looked like a normal athletic boy during the night, not wearing his hood completely over his head and frightened by the threat of the sun like he was during the day. It was then that I learned about the side of Kanno who worked harder than others because of his physical disability. No, I was supposed to know that a long time ago. He was the target of unreasonable teasing, and there was no reason for him to go out of his way to stay in the girls’ team to the point of feeling uncomfortable, but he worked harder than anyone even in basic training that was nothing but painful, and never missed a day of practice.

Because, like me, he loved volleyball—he told me that I was the one who taught him the fun of volleyball. Maybe that was the only thing I could be proud of.

He was probably still training at night on his own. He looked stronger, with another faint layer of muscle on his neck and arms. The nails on his fingers gripping his mechanical pencil were deeply trimmed. His fingertips were a bit chapped, but it was an indoor sport, so the underside of his nails wouldn’t be darkened with dirt. His protruding joints was due to the repeated spraining of his fingers. His long fingers were for catching the ball and accurately handling it, and his large palms were for powerfully driving in spikes. The hands that I thought were beautiful were characteristic of male volleyball players.

Kanno had become independent of the “shadows” that had been clinging to my back and only stirred up my frustration and impatience, and after taking some distance and time where I was able to calm down, I was feeling a bit nervous right now, coming in contact with him like this again.

I knew what I was saying was too convenient at this point. There was no way the selfishness of trying to get back something you pushed away but wanted later could be allowed unchallenged. You had to take responsibility for what you have done.

We were approaching Monshiro Station. I closed the notebook and put it in my bag.

“Aaah, we didn’t finish it. Let’s do it tomorrow.”

I secretly cherished the feeling of our kneecaps brushing up against each other, but I quickly stood up and carried my schoolbag and enamel bag with me. It was a one-man operation train, so if you were too slow, it was easy to miss your stop.

“…Kanno?”

Right when I stepped into the aisle, I looked back suspiciously. Kanno hadn’t even attempted to stand up, his behind still stuck to his seat.

“I’m riding to the next station, don’t worry. I can’t walk you home, but be careful.”

“Hah? Why?”

“Um…well…I can’t get up. My knees have no strength…”

“Huh…what’s that about, did you get hurt? You want me to escort you home?”

Worried, I brought my face closer. “N-no, you’re mistaken,” Kanno pulled down the hood of his hoodie and turned his face to the window.

“When I was talking to Iba-Suemori-san today, I was actually really nervous… I summoned up all of my strength to call out to you, and once I did, I surprisingly felt like I could talk to you normally as a friend, so I was so relieved that my muscles went limp…Oh, I know that I already got rejected, so I’m really not thinking about anything more than that now, but it’s hard not being able to talk to each other at all during practice…”

Kanno’s pale face, hidden by the hood, turned red like the old days, and he talked quickly like he was feeling restless. While I was standing stock-still in the middle of the aisle, Monshiro Station’s platform slowly slid into the train window. The scenery stopped along with the vibration of being pulled sideways, and there was the sound of the doors whooshing open. There weren’t a lot of passengers, but some still passed by here and there. No new passengers got on from the platform. The departure bell immediately started ringing. “You have to get off,” Kanno urged, his face still hidden.

My toes hesitated for an instant over whether to go or not, but ultimately I placed my bags on the seats again and sat back down in front of Kanno.

“Wait, Iba…Suemori-san?”

Kanno raised his panicked face.

“It’s perfect. We still haven’t finished the arrangements, so let’s just do it now.”

“Yes, but…”

“And it’s a bit fun to go all the way to the final stop and loop back, so how about it?”

I spread the notebook on top of our laps without giving Kanno a chance to object. Looking like he found it hard to accept, Kanno chewed on the tip of his lip, but…

“Thank you…”

In the end, he gave in and said in a limp voice.

I was slightly discouraged to find out that Kanno had already finished drawing a line between us within him, but I was glad he said it clearly. I shouldn’t be forgiven by Kanno, and I didn’t want to be forgiven by him. I was sure that I would live with this regret for the rest of my life.

The bell stopped ringing, and the train started to move. The view of the platform fell out of sight.

I wasn’t saying to whom, but…if I had to say it, I made a promise with myself. When we got off this train and went our own ways home, I would put a lid on these feelings once and for all. So, just a little bit more. I was ready to carry a lifetime’s worth of regret, so wasn’t it okay for me to draw this out…for just a few more minutes?

***

“Um, it’s hard to say this, but…if we take this train to the end of the line, there are no more trains available to take us back…to Monshiro.”

Kanno brought that up when the curtain of night had completely fallen outside the window.

“What, why didn’t you say that earlier!? What’re we gonna do!”

“We can walk home or something. But it’ll be the middle of the night by the time we get there. I’m fine with nights so I don’t mind it at all. Suemori-san, I’ll carry you on my back if you’re tired.”

Considering that he said it was hard to say it, Kanno had a slightly happy expression on his face as he said that, and my resolve immediately wavered.

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#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43: seiin high school boys volleyball club #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation

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