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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

Text

Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

634 notes · View notes

thefairyletters · 3 years

Note

I saw you rb a SaiSaku post and was curious if you had any fanfic recs for this rarepair?!

Do I have?!!!!! I am currently binging this ship so you couldn't have asked this at better time.

This pair is not a crack ship! Crack would mean they have not shared more than two words with each other. But SaiSaku interactions always bordered on romance and best friends who don't act like it. Not only Sakura was the first person to acknowledge Sai had human side to him and bonded with him over his painting, Sai was also the only person outside Sasuke (in part 1) to be able tell her fake smiles and he always understood her feelings better than other characters. Had Sakura ever only cared for good looks (something she don't) then with Sai she'd get that and so much more.

I have always considered SaiSaku as the next best thing after NaruSaku. They had too much potential as a couple. I am not bitter that InoSai became a thing but looking at them I only feel that "Ino didn't get Sasuke so she get his look-alike." Besides, Sai gave people nicknames that are opposites to what actually feels about them – Naruto as Dickless, Sakura as Hag/Ugly and Ino as Beautiful – which makes it worse. Both Ino and Sai deserve better than this. If Kishi has shown them together more often or had interactions between them similar to SaiSaku then I can understand why Ino is his light. I guess it is also SP's fault for showing them in different light. For all SP hates Sakura, they enjoy messing up with her fans by feeding them false hope.

Whenever I want to read something hilarious but deep, SaiSaku is my to-go couple. Usually angsty, or full bout of insults and punches. There's no in between with them.

. SaiSaku .

This list contains my favorite SaiSaku collection. I am not sure if you like SaiSaku only as romance ship but this list also contain stories that expands on SaiSaku friendship, something I absolutely adore.

Could Roses Bloom? : RiseoftheBlossom || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || GaaSaku, SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || Ongoing

Sai glanced downwards at his body, the sudden override of his thoughts causing his mind to blank. What did that mean? Had he been straying too close to a piece of information Danzo didn't want him to have or share? Or was it his mind's natural response to shutting down any form of emotion, even if it was just the slightest of inclination towards feeling something?

Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, SaiSaku friendship, confused-over-his-feelings!Sai, slow burn, GaaSaku, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, angst with fluff

hello, bright eyes (been waiting on you) : mouseymightymarvellous || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot

“look underneath the underneath,” except no one has ever really bothered to look at sakura and see her. and then there is a boy (isn’t there always). maybe they’re both just ghosts, making each other real.

Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, confused-over-her-feelings!Sakura, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, Sai and Sakura who don't feel like they belong, angst with fluff, sad!Sai

Oh God That’s Heaven : blueberrysconesandfolkmusic || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot

Sakura finds Sai sick, alone, and in desperate need of a hand that doesn't hurt.

Go for it if you like: boys who are bad at feelings, bleeding-heart!Sakura, sad-and-lonely!Sai, Sai and Sakura who are secretly best friends, Sai with PTSD, protective!team7

for everything blue and bright : sinemoras09 || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku, SasuSaku || Angst || One Shot

The five stages of human arousal.

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, obsessed!Sakura, One-sided love, Unrequited-love-no-matter-how-you-look-at-it!SaiSaku, no-good-very-bad!Ending, pining!Sai, bittersweet lemon

A mess of me : Dovey || M || AO3 || Pre-Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Yandere Romance || Complete

In which Sai is a good ANBU agent with an unusual hobby, and Sakura grows up with a #1 fan rooting for her....even if she doesn't know it. Or: Sai starts stalking Sakura when they're both young to satisfy his curiousity about 'normalcy', gets attached, and eventually gets very frustrated that nobody else seems to notice her potential as a shinobi and takes matters into his own hands- and delights in being Sakura's prime source of validation because of it.

Go for it if you like: obsessed!Sai, manipulation, stalker!Sai, mentor!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, distraught!Kakashi, fluff, baby-Sai-stalking-baby-Sakura, abusive haruno household

There is sunshine on his forehead : amako || T || AO3 || Soulmate AU || SaiSaku but it's complicated || Angst, Hurt/Comfort || One Shot

Sakura is only three when she promises herself that Sasuke will die by her hand, whoever he is.

Go for it if you like: dysfunctional Team 7, Soulmate AU, Unrequited love feels, angst heavy, Sai and Sakura only want to belong, NaruSasu, NaruSaku but not really, betrayal heavy, no fluff only pain, SaiSaku, Team 7 taking Sakura for granted, Sakura is so done

In theory : nimblnymph || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Humor || One Shot

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Sai was about to learn that this theory applied to more than just physics. And that putting theory into practice sometimes gave unexpected results.

Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, teacher!Sakura, student!Sai, Sai getting educated, Sakura educating Sai, Kisses, Sai being Sai, Sakura with patience of god

Loathing : i AM the Random Idiot || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Angst || One Shot

Define "hatred."

Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, hurt!Sai, Angst, Onions, SakuSai bonding over mutual hate, love is overrated anyway

Bunk Mates : ice bitten || T || FFN || Shippuden || Team 7 || Humor, Friendship || One Shot

In which Sasuke and Naruto find out Sakura has been sleeping over at Sai's. Short stories surrounding Sakura, Sai, and the invasive people of Konoha.

Go for it if you like: sassy!Sai, protective!Team7, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, Perfect characterisation, Canon feels

Paint me with Colour : PeregrineFlight || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku|| Humor, Friendship || Incomplete

Sai and Sakura must travel to the Land of Lightning to retrieve something for the Daimyo, they have to travel as a married couple. Much to Naruto's amusement.

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, pretend marriage, SaiSaku bonding over mission, fluffy angst, adorable!Sai

Forget Me Not : Joy-girl || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || Team 7 || Angst, Friendship || Complete

Sometimes it's easy to forget how important someone is when the person is always in the background – but Sakura's boys still remember. Glimpses of her importance from each member of her team.

Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, underappreciated Sakura, Team7 family, Family feels, sad!Sakura, protective!Team7 males, Sakura appreciation, SaiSaku bond, Team7Saku feels, avenger!Teammates

Add Me Colour : Cella N || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku || Drama, Romance || Complete

"All my life is white. Paint me. Add me colour."

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sakura, Sai being Sai, confused!Sakura, angst, poetic translation, colors

Euphemisms : Nymbis || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor, Romance || Complete(?)

Drabbles about Sai, Sakura, and their strange attempts at bonding.

Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, Hilarious friendships, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches, Raunchy stuff

Ricochet : Strix 4 || T || FFN || Shippuden AU || Team 7 || Family, Drama || Complete(?)

Sometimes it's easy to see the familiar in the faces around you. Sometimes it sucks to figure out why.

Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, Team7 as family, Family feels, wise!Sakura, SaiSaku bond, Sai's place in team 7

Pick up lines : Demoneyes 14 || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor || One Shot

Ero sennin's pick up lines! Guaranteed to get the girl or your money back! Well... it would be more guaranteed if it hadn't fallen on his face in the library, but heck, Sai will try anything once! Maybe it will save him a beating from Sakura...

Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches

Special mentions...

Study of the Heart : teresa

In an effort to become a better friend, Sai undertakes a study of love, not really understanding how difficult it could be, and how surprising.

The Blood of a Cherry Blossom : Slytherin Kunoichi

Originally, for Halloween, Sai hadn't decided what to go as, but once he glimpsed at the bleeding flesh on Sakura's neck, he suddenly had the urge to be a vampire…

Old Dogs, New Tricks : yuugiri

After an unprecedented turn of events, the Fifth Hokage has officially assigned Sakura Haruno the responsibility to make Sai recover what he had lost; his emotions. With a time limit of a month, will Sakura succeed in this mission?

Once More, With Feeling : Cynchick

Sakura didn't know what she was thinking when she showed up on his doorstep.

Ink Me : Krickitat

Exploring the art of bod-modification Sakura takes a step into the unknown world of the exquisite pain of art.

The Uchiha Secret : Slytherin Kunoichi

Sasuke froze as he stared at Sai's eyes, which were identical to his Uchiha Sharingan eyes now: red with anger and black with hatred...One family secret could threaten and shake three lives forever. Bonds will be broken.

My babies don't get enough love in the world.

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silkling · 3 years

Note

Hi! I remember you said you liked angst. So... Can you write another fanfic on the AU where the rescue bots were found by the Autobots, with the following plot: Blades is forced to repair one of his comrades, who was seriously injured in battle?(either Chase or Heatwave, your choice) 👀

Ooh, I like this idea! Imma do it. I’m going to make it worse though. Just because. Apparently I really like hurting my favorite characters. Go figure, huh? Also, for those who didn’t read the first, this fic is in the same verse as this one.

Also, beware that there will be descriptions of graphic injury, so be wary if that’s something that upsets you.

———————————————————————————————————

The stars were silent. They always were, of course, but during the Ark’s recharge cycle the silence was all-consuming. Blades was in the rec room, sitting in the little viewport alcove that took up a small portion of the wall. They were passing by the same star system where the Sigma had been found by the Autobots, all those stellar cycles ago. 5 vorns or so had passed since then, which felt both like an eternity and like no time at all.

Blades knew Cybertronians lived a long time. In reality, 5 vorns was barely any time at all for one of their kind. But for Blades, who had once only ever known what it was to save lives, the past 5 vorns that he’d spent learning to take them had dragged on and felt almost unbearably long. He hadn’t actually killed yet, but he’d already learned how do so with a blaster, how to do it by hand, and even how to get in close and use a blade. Apparently, he was particularly talented at that last one. Given his name, the Protectobot found it rather ironic.

“Blades? What are you doing up? You do not have any duties this night cycle.”

The motorcycle startled, his engine revving and his processor snapping to attention at the unexpected voice. He hadn’t killed any bot yet, but he’d been in many, many, many battles now, some of which still gave him nightmares. He’d developed battle protocols very quickly after joining the Autobots, and now took being surprised as poorly as most of the others did. His optics sharpened and focused on his unexpected visitor with unnerving intensity, before his sighed and relaxed, tense armor plating loosening once more.

“Chase.” he greeted. “I know. I couldn’t sleep. I was remembering that last battle.”

“Ah.” Here, his friend’s voice softened, and the blue and white bot walked over to join him. He nudged the slimmer youngling aside until there was room in the small alcove for them both, sitting opposite from his friend and letting their pedes entangle. “I understand now.”

And he did. The last battle had been fought on a young planet, one with plentiful energon mines, and where the local species were still primitive. It had been a difficult fight. Blades, like always, had fought on the front lines with Hot Spot, Groove and Streetwise. Chase and Heatwave had been nearby, too. Somehow, they always found themselves fighting near each other. As with most of their battles, Boulder and First Aid had remained behind at the Ark, away from the battle proper. It hadn’t been a very unique battle, at first. Then the Deceptions had unveiled a new weapon. It had destroyed the planet, and every life that called it home had died with it. The Autobots had been too late to realize what was going on. They hadn’t been able to stop it, only flee before they too fell to the new weapon.

Blades had taken it particularly hard. The small motorcycle was a deeply empathetic bot, and it had hurt him to know they they had brought their war to another planet, and that it had resulted in the destruction of that planet and the loss of the lives there. Chase couldn’t blame him. All of Sigma-17 had felt that loss particularly hard. For all they had become soldiers after being awoken from stasis, all four younglings were still Rescue Bots at spark.

“We will simply have to stop Megatron next time and destroy his weapon before he can ever use it again.” Chase said after a moment of silence. He knew Blades wouldn’t be reassured by useless platitudes.

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, distant. “Yeah.” he repeated, sounding a little more present as his optics hardened. “We will. He can’t do that again.”

Blades turned to meet his friend’s gaze, chin lifting. “We won’t let him do that again.”

Chase smiled, nodding. “No, we will not.” he agreed.

Blades relaxed completely then, sighing and shifting until he could lean into Chase’s chest. “Thank you, Chase.” he whispered.

“Of course.” he said, his arms coming around to press the smaller bot to his chest. “I will always be there to support you, when you have need of it. I am your Amica, after all.”

That was another thing that had changed in the past few vorns. Blades and Chase had always been fairly close, since they found they balanced each other out quiet nicely. Even before stasis, they’d been close friends. Blades appreciated Chase’s calm, peaceful logic and found it helped bring him him back from some of his nervous breakdowns, and Chase found Blades’s natural easy-going and sociable demeanor soothing and helpful at understanding situations which normally gave him pause. It had only taken them a couple vorns after coming out of stasis to formally perform the ritus and become Amica Endura.

Blades laughed, his hands raising to curl across the arms pressed to his chestplate. “Yeah, you are. And I’m yours. You can always count on me, Chase.”

A small smiled tugged at his lips, and he turned his gaze to the stars outside the viewport, in his chest, his spark pulsed, warm and fond with affection and belonging. He knew that Blades was feeling the same right now, both younglings basking in the quiet peace and comfort of each others’ presence.

“I know.”

Outside the Ark, the vast expanse of space stretched on. The billions of stars shone brightly, and life moved ever forward. Time ticked on, and though this moment was calm and soft, there would be many moments to come that would not be. What the future held exactly, only Primus knew. All his children could do now was hold on and ride out the storms to come.

——————————

When it finally happened, Blades would later reflect that he was surprised it had taken as long as it had. But then again, First Aid and Ratchet would probably have done their best to keep it from happening, to make sure his own emotional turmoil wouldn’t cause him to falter. They couldn’t stall it forever though, because this was War and at the end of it all that only meant he would have been forced into a situation like this eventually.

The orn had stared out like most other orns. The only difference has been that the Ark had landed on a planet that apparently was fairly rich in energon. The planet was also largely uninhabited, save some plant life, so they wouldn’t have to worry too much about harming the local inhabitants. Everything had been going well. They’d managed to collect energon, enough to halfway fill one of the storage hangars, and had been in the process of mining more when the Decepticon attacked.

Blades still wasn’t sure where they’d come from. Maybe they’d landed the Nemesis on the other side in the planet and travelled the rest of the way themselves. Maybe the Nemesis was still above them all, and the ‘Cons had just made planet fall on their own in order to attack. Either way, Megatron and his soldiers had showed up, and once again a battle had begun. Blades hadn’t been near his team or his brothers when the attack had begun, so he hadn’t been able to join them for the fight. That had made him nervous, but he’d fought anyway, shooting at any Decepticons who got close and using the terrain as cover.

It hadn’t been long before there’d been a call for medical attention, and Blades had reacted on instinct. He’d sprung from behind the large stone he was hiding behind, following the call until he came across Cliffjumper and Arcee. The other two-wheeler was unconscious, a shot leaking energon from her neck. Blades had been quick to get Cliffjumper’s help to drag her behind another nearby outcropping, and he’d settled down to begin triage care. As soon as he’d been assured of her survival, he’d swiftly ordered the red mech to bring her to the med-bay. Usually, he didn’t have the rank to order other bots around, but he’d found that all the Autobots would tend to do what he told them when it came to medical matters.

He’d turned to rejoin the battle when Sunstreaker had dragged his twin around the outcropping, dropping Sideswipe with a snarled demand to fix him. Blades hadn’t taken offense. They were split spark twins. They shared a spark bond with each other, like he did with his brothers. It wasn’t the same exact type of bond, but it was close enough that he understood the panic. He’d fixed the severed fuel lines, patched up the sparking wires, and welded the gashes in red armor before telling Sunstreaker to get his brother out of the battlefield. Sideswipe wouldn’t be able to fight further with his wounds, even though Blades had managed to repair the damage completely. He’d need to recover.

It had seemed that, after that, the Autobots must have figured out that the outcropping was where emergency triage was being done. They’d probably passed the information along their comm. system while Blades had been working on Arcee. After the Twins, Blades had found himself busy with many bots. Most had only surface level wounds, injuries that needed a quick patch so they could rejoin the fight. Others needed a full field repair and a retreat, like Sideswipe had. Blaster had been dragged to him by his Cassettes in critical condition, and Blades had had to quickly patch the life threatening damage, then order Ironhide, who’d come in to get a leaking fuel line patched, to take the host mech to Ratchet and First Aid immediately.

Once he’d done that and turned to his next field patient, he’d caught sight of blue and white armor. His processor was deep in its rescue and medical protocols, so much so he initially tuned out all his surroundings. It wasn’t until something in the back of his mind whispered that the shade of blue was familiar that he paused, taking in the full extent of the damage. It was bad. The bot’s chest was the worst off. It looked like they’d been hit point blank with an explosion. The metal armor of the chestplate was melted and twisted, with large areas gone altogether. Blades could see into their chest and realized that even their internals were damaged. The fuel pump was dented and had been pierced with a shard of blue armor, there were several sparking wires and spurting lines, and worst of all, the bot’s spark chamber was caved in and cracked. The motorcycle could see the weak glow of the bot’s spark. That wasn’t even all the damage. The poor bot was missing a leg, and it looked like one of their arms had been practically shredded. Even beyond that, most of the bot’s frame was dented or damaged in some way. Blades could barely pick out the paint job under all the damage.

Even so, his processor started screaming louder as he realized that, despite all that, the colors and patterns of that paint were familiar. Blades froze, his spark almost spasming with dawning horror, and he turned his gaze up to the bot’s face. As soon as he locked onto the slack face, saw the darkened optics that he knew should be a glowing amber, he couldn’t hold back the agonized keen as his medical protocols stuttered.

It was Chase.

His next vent came out in a harsh whine, and he couldn’t take his optics off the slack face of his Amica. Blades almost jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Jazz looking at him with a grim expression. The Third in Command nodded his helm at the prone form of his teammate.

“I know it’s tough’.” he said. “But ya gotta take care o’ him. If he don’t get the care he needs now, he ain’t gonna survive the trip to old’ Ratch. He needs you, mechlin’, so don’t spiral now.”

Blades stared at him for a sparkbeat, and then jolted as if he’d been physically shocked. He turned back to Chase, trying to ignore that it was his Amica who was wounded and dying in front of him, and got to work. He took in the damage once more, fingertips transforming into the tools he needed, and with a hard vent he forced his emotional processes to mute themselves in his processor, letting medical response protocols rise to the surface uninterrupted. Abruptly, his previously distraught EM field went blank and numb, making the bots around him wince with the suddenness if it.

Jazz stepped back, a flicker of regret in his visored optics. He recognized what Blades had done. He’d shut down his emotional response core. It wasn’t something the average bot could do, and he suspected the youngling only knew how to because of his medical training. The only other bot he’d seen do that was Prowl, and the Praxian had to do it if he wanted to come up with his tactics without crippling himself emotionally. Luckily, the emotional core could be brought back online later, but he knew it was never a pleasant process for the bot who had done so to come out of the emotional numbness. He only regretted that Blades had found it necessary to do so in the first place. No youngling should have to do something so drastic. It wasn’t right.

In front of Jazz and the other Autobots who were gathered behind the outcropping for minor repair, Blades worked on. He ignored the sounds of weapons fire and destruction beyond the small safe haven he was huddled in, focusing only on the task in front of him. He had to make sure Chase survived. He had to.

Failure wasn’t an option.

——————————

The rest of the orn passed in a haze. Blades was aware of things distantly, but wasn’t processing anything emotionally. He knew Jazz took Chase off to the Ark as soon as he’d ensured his friend wouldn’t die in the next few groons, until Ratchet or First Aid could get to him. After that, things happened quickly. He’d patched up the other bots around his outcropping who’d only needed minor repair, but he’d had no major patients after that. And then Megatron was calling a retreat, and Ironhide had come to guide Blades back to the Ark. None of the older bots seemed upset at the two-wheeler’s numb demeanor. He was in shock. He knew it. They knew it. They didn’t hold it against him.

Once he had been safely delivered to the starship, Ironhide had gone off. Blades wasn’t paying attention to where he’d gone. Maybe some of the others were gathering the last of the energon. Maybe everyone was preparing for take off. He wasn’t fully aware, wasn’t fully processing his surroundings. He drifted along in a haze, until he found himself in front of the medbay doors. That was when his focus sharpened. Usually after a battle, he’d join Ratchet and his brother in the medbay and do his part to help. He needed to go in.

The only thing making him hesitate was Chase. His Amica was in there. He’d done all he could on the battlefield, but had it been enough? Could he face it again?

He would have to. He stiffened his spinal strut and steeled his resolve, then stepped forward and the doors opened. He stepped into the medbay, his optics roving over the occupied berths, until they landed on a trio of berths by the far wall. On one, there was a familiar blue and white frame. Chase. On the second, a red mech lay prone and limp. Heatwave. On the third, a bulky green bot was resting on his side, unconscious and unaware. Boulder.

No.

Blades’s spark screamed in agony. He could see some of the damage from here, but he couldn’t see it all. Heatwave’s lower half looked like it had been crushed under something extremely heavy. The metal armor was dented and almost flattened. Blades could also see that the red mech’s optics were blackened and shattered, if if they’d been hit by a blaster bolt. Boulder wasn’t much better off. His entire back was a melted, twisted mess. Blades could see his spinal strut poking out of the ruined armor. There was so much energon. All three of his teammates were covered in it. It almost looked like they’d decided to incorporate pink into their paint jobs.

An agonized keen tore its way free from his vocalizer, and and medical protocols he had been ready to engage fell away under the onslaught of emotional anguish. He didn’t notice how First Aid had gasped and pressed a hand to his chest plates the second he’d noticed Sigma-17’s damaged states. He didn’t hear his brother call out to him in concern as he keened. He didn’t see Ratchet curse and begin to turn towards him, looking both irritated and worried.

He did, however, feel the hands that clasped his shoulders, the chest that pressed up against his back. He startled, drawing in a rasping gasp, and then he felt a soft warmth wrap around his spark. He knew that presence.

“Streetwise.” he whimpered, twisting to stare up at his oldest brother with wide, over-bright optics.

“Hey, Blades.” Streetwise gave him a small smile. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“B-But I have to stay. I need-“

“Ratchet and ‘Aid can handle it. This was an easy battle. They handled a lot worse than this before you came along.” he cut it. “You won’t be of any use in the state you’re in, Blades. Besides, I’m fairly sure it goes against medical code to come in and treat patients when you’re covered in filth from outside.” he said sternly.

Blades made to protest, but the soothing pulse in his spark from First Aid distracted him enough that Streetwise was able to guide him out of the medbay. He started gently ushering his brother towards the communal washracks, making sure Blades didn’t run into anyone in his shocked state.

“Streetwise, I gotta go back. They need me, I-I can’t-“

“None of that now. You did plenty today. Blades, let them handle it. Your well-being matters too. Right now, that’s actually all I care about. Your team will be fine. Have faith in Ratchet and ‘Aid, yeah?”

Blades whimpered, but he didn’t have the chance to argue further because that was when they came upon the washracks. Hot Spot was there, and he grimaced when he saw the state of his brother, but he forced a smile a moment later and reached out to rub Blades’s audial fins in a way he knew the smaller bot liked. The finial under his fingers quivered faintly, and Hot Spot wrapped a hand around Blades’s wrist to tug him into the washracks. He’d managed to get the others out earlier, and they’d been fairly understanding when he’d explained that Blades was in shock and needed a proper cleaning.

“Come on, bitty Blades.” The largest Protectobot whispered. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? You’re covered in energon, that can’t feel good.”

Blades went stiff at his brother’s words, looking down at his frame and noticing for the first time that his armor was covered in energon. Chase’s energon. A pained whine was pulled from his vocalizer, and Hot Spot winced when he realized he’d said the wrong thing.

Streetwise shot the bigger bot an unimpressed look, but both knew that talking to Blades now would be useless. The smallest Protectobot, though not by too much, had always been prone to worry and panic. Blades was an anxious bot, it was just part of who he was. It meant that sometimes, his worry overcame him and he spiraled. His brothers could always tell when that happened, because his spark pulsed almost frantically and they could sense the overwhelming panic through the bond. When Blades got like this, he lost awareness of his surroundings. They’d long since learned that the best way to soothe him was to use the bond and send comfort and safety along it, to wrap their brother’s spark in feelings of love and reassurance and peace, and pull him out of his panic that way. Thankfully, Blades didn’t spiral often. He was overly nervous, sure, but he’d never let it stop him from doing what was needed of him, and he’d learned to not let it control him. That didn’t mean his emotions didn’t get the better of him sometimes, though.

Hot Spot gently tugged them all over to one of the cubicles, where he’d already grabbed the items they needed. With all three of them in there, it was a little crowded, but they could make it work. The spray of solvent was turned on, and Blades barely twitched as it hit his frame. Neither Streetwise nor Hot Spot were bothered as their younger brother remained silent. They worked together to clean up the mess that was Blades, using wash rags to wipe away the dirt and energon, and then smaller brushes to get in between the armor plating and into the transformation seams. It took some time, especially with Blades so unresponsive, but eventually they had him fully cleaned and dried, and were tugging him back towards their berthroom.

Blades himself was still in a daze. The energon was gone from his armor, and that certainly helped, but he couldn’t stop thinking of his teammates in such dire condition in the medbay. He couldn’t get the image of Chase’s broken frame on the battlefield out of his processor.

Blades was a gentle spark, perhaps even more so than his easy-going flyer brother. Groove was a pacifist, and Blades was deeply empathetic and his brothers knew that he felt things on an emotional level far more keenly than they were really able to grasp. The rest of the Protectobots had been able to adapt to the War, especially since their introduction to it had been more gradual. But Blades, who had always hated seeing anyone hurt, to the point he’d taken any extra classes he could at the Rescue Academy just to be able to help as many others as he could? The War was hard on him. He’d adapt, in time, but with how sudden his introduction to it had been it would be a while yet before the violence stopped making him so upset.

The trio eventually arrived at their berthroom, and when the door closed behind them Blades felt Streetwise and Hot Spot move away from him. A klik later, he felt another frame press against him, and a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. It took only a beat for him to recognize Groove. He whimpered, his fingers twitching and clinging to the copter bot. Blades felt soothing warmth wrap around his spark from the bond, coming from all four of his brothers. Love, warmth, assurance, and peace soaked into his spark, and Blades let out a broken noise as everything from the day crashed into him.

Groove crooned gently, tightening his grip on his younger brother. “Easy, Blades.” he whispered. “We have you. We won’t let you fall, yeah? Just let it out.” he soothed.

Blades shuddered, then sobbed and clung tighter to his brother. He felt Streetwise press up against his back, and Hot Spot’s arms came to way around them all. The four of them stood there for a while, Blades sobbing and gasping as all his panic and worry rushed through him at once. He hadn’t been able to really process it, before. That was the danger of muting ones emotional core, as he had done earlier. It meant that he’d need to handle the emotions he’d blocked off all at once instead of steadily and as they came. So, he was forced to stay in his brothers’ hold, letting them keep him from falling as everything crashed into him. For many breems, he wept into Groove’s shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with the force of what he was feeling.

But, finally, his cries petered out, and then he was just venting harshly, shaking faintly in the aftermath of it all. He felt Hot Spot smooth a hand down his side, then come back up to rub his finial before his biggest brother spoke.

“How about we watch some of that old drama we used to like before the War? We still have the whole series downloaded on the old travel holo-pad. I know you missed a lot of the episodes that came out while you were in stasis, bitty Blades.” he said.

Blades reset his vocalizer, wincing at his staticky and rough his voice was even after doing so. “You have the whole series of But a Chance?”

Streetwise hummed. “You bet we do. We kept downloading the new episodes that came out after…” he paused, trailing off. Blades knew what he was talking about. “Well, we kept downloading the new ones. Never watched them, though. Not beyond the ones that came out before them Purge.”

“Didn’t feel right. Not without you there to make all your little comments.” Hot Spot quipped.

Blades huffed a weak sound of amusement. “You still watched some without me, though.”

“Awe, only a couple, bitty Blades.” Hot Spot smiled. “Not too many. So? What do you say?”

Blades gave another huff. “Yeah.” he agreed,

“Good, because I’ve already got it set up.” Groove said cheerfully.

“Presumptuous.” Streetwise teased.

“Shut it. You’re the one who told me to prepare for a Blades Cheer Up Night.” Groove snipped back.

“We all knew it was time for a Blades Cheer Up Night. Why are you sparklings arguing?” Hot Spot asked playfully.

“I’m older than you.” Streetwise said, frowning.

“Only by half a breem.” Hot Spot sang.

“And I’m not a sparkling!” Groove protested.

“Hush, little brother.” the two older Protectobots said at the same time.

Blades giggled weakly. “Yeah, hush. The big bots are talking.” he rasped.

Groove turned an offended look on him. “We’re all older than you. And bigger.” he sniffed.

“I’m prettier though.”

There were noises of outrage around him, and Blades felt his lips quirk up. Even as Hot Spot tweaked his finial in retaliation, he just felt his smile relax a little more. His spark was still heavy with grief and fear, but already it felt warmer and lighter. He didn’t protest as Streetwise eventually got the other two to simmer down, pushing them all towards the large berth. At the head of the berth, the holo-pad was set up on a small desk. As soon as all four brothers were settled, Groove started the episode Blades remembered having left off on, and they settled down to watch.

Things were peaceful, for a while. They got another episode in, and Blades couldn’t help himself then as he watched the characters go about on screen.

“I’m sorry, Clearview did what now? That’s stupid. She’s stupid. Why would she even do that?”

“Well,” Groove purred. “It could be because she’s actually-“

“No!” Blades hissed, drawing back a pede and planting it firmly in his brother’s hip, sending the flyer tumbling off the berth. “No spoilers!”

Groove cackled, but crawled back onto the berth and flopped on top of his younger brother. “Okay, okay. Have it your way.”

“You two are being far too loud for anyone else to enjoy to show.” Streetwise said blandly.

“Blame Groove.” Blades sniffed. “He started it.”

“You’re the one who kicked me!” Groove squawked, outraged.

“I will not be spoiled! Bots who spoil the show for other bots recharge on the couch, remember? That’s the rule!”

“Well, we don’t have a couch.” Groove said smugly. “So there.”

“We have a floor, don’t we?”

“I’m not recharging on the floor!”

“You are if I make you!”

“Try it!”

“Fine!” Blades huffed, and proceeded to launch himself at his brother.

Groove yelped, not expecting Blades to actually go through with it, and the two wrestled on the berth before their elder brothers pulled them apart. Streetwise grabbed Groove and rolled on top of him, while Hot Spot dragged Blades into his lap and wrapped the motorcycle in his arms.

“Hush.” he admonished. “It’s show time now, not wrestle like feral sparklings time.”

“We’re not sparklings!” Groove and Blades protested in unison.

“Then stop acting like it. Now shut up and watch.” Streetwise said, though they could all hear the grin in his voice.

There were grumbling protests, but the two younger bots obeyed and went still. After another couple episodes, they were released to drape across each other. Time wore on, and the Ark slipped into it’s nightly recharge cycle. By this time, Blades’s brothers were in recharge themselves, curled around and on top of each other while Blades himself continued to watch the drama. He was waiting, after all.

Another groon passed, and the door to their berthroom opened. First Aid trudged in, exhaustion hanging from his frame. He went straight for the berth, tipping right into it and not even bothering to get his legs in. Blades huffed a laugh, gently tugging his younger brother up into the berth. He reached out to turn off the holo-pad, then refocused on First Aid as the youngest Protectobot cuddled firmly into his side. He knew his brother was tired. Pit, he could feel the depths of First Aid’s exhaustion over the bond. But he had to know.

“‘Aid? Are they…?”

“They’re fine.” First Aid mumbled. “They’ll make a full recovery. You don’t have to worry, Blades.”

All at once, the last of the fear and worry left him, and Blades released all tension in his frame with a heavy vent. “Thank you.” he whispered.

First Aid hummed softly. “‘Course. They took care of you when we couldn’t. I won’t let you lose your team if I can help it, Blades. ‘Specially not your Amica.” he mumbled, his words slurring towards the end.

Blades smiled, his arms wrapping around the little medic as First Aid nuzzled into his embrace. “Yeah.” he murmured. They really had taken care of him. “Recharge, ‘Aid. You need it.”

“You too.”

“I will.” Blades agreed. “Goodnight, little brother.”

“‘Night.” First Aid made a sleepy, content churring noise. “Love you…”

Blades blinked, then tightened his grip around him. “Yeah.” he whispered. “Love you too.”

He watched his youngest brother drift off into recharge, then offlined his optics ans let himself drift off as well. Just before he fell unconscious, he felt Groove roll on top of them both, and Hot Spot’s arms coming around all three of them. From the other side of the largest Protectobot, Streetwise’s hand came to rest on Blades’s head, his thumb twitching against his finial.

Comfortable and warm, his frame and spark both surrounded by the peace and love of his brothers, Blades drifted off into recharge, his rest easy and quiet with the reassurance that his Amica and his team would recover. His spark was warm with the sheer joy, adoration, and contentment that pulsed all along the bond, and his rest was easy and undisturbed.

Beyond the walls of the Ark, the stars were silent.

———————————————————————————————————

And here it is! What did y’all think? For those who don’t remember, the Purge that Streetwise mentioned was the massacre of the Rescue Bots.

Also, poor Blades. He has it rough. At least he’s not alone, right?

Let me know how you liked that! If you want more of this verse, I might expand on it after I take care of more prompts. (Or you could request a specific scenario yourself.)

Until next time, folks!

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

Note

What would a spider man: life story look like for the shadow?

Now that I've actually read Spider-Man: Life Story I can give this one a response. I'm gonna obsess about this question for a while because man what a ride Life Story was.

To those not in the know, the premise of Spider-Man: Life Story is: "In 1962, in AMAZING FANTASY #15, 15-year-old Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and became the Amazing Spider-Man! Fifty-seven years have passed in the real world since that event — so what would have happened if the same amount of time passed for Peter as well?" and basically it tells the story of Spider-Man as one continuous narrative spanning 57 years, from his beginnings to a potential future, allowing Peter Parker and his cast and world to age in real time and factor in elements from the character's major stories over the decades.

And it's got a lot into it that the premise doesn't convey and there is no way I can even begin tackling a project like this for the 90 goddamn years of The Shadow's history without seriously just writing an entirely different fanfic continuity (and I already have 5, plus multiverses, possibly more) and tipping off way too much about my own plans for the character. Even I have my limits.

So instead, what I'm gonna do is go over the broad strokes of The Shadow's history as it would look like if you could try and condense it all under a consistent narrative, if you could focus on each decade's highs and lows, what kind of story would arise if a deranged Shadow maniac like me were to try and build a basic skeleton for a The Shadow: Life Story story.

Basic rules first: I'm sticking to the idea of Life Story and spanning every decade from the beginning of the character's life to the end of it. The aging and death parts are important so I’m sticking to those. The character's canonical birth date is 1892, so he's not making it intact to the 2000s. We're capping this off in the 90s, although it doesn't mean no further stories can be told. I will avoid mentioning specific historical events like Vietnam and 9/11 for this post to instead focus on The Shadow's trajectory. I will also not be including other characters, only somewhat referencing whatever aspects I deem relevant. I'm not sticking to any continuity, I'm pulling literally everything I can for this one

And putting this one below the cut

The 1930s: The golden years. In 1930, after a long line of life experiences in the Great War and traveling around the world under dozens of names, the man formerly known as Kent Allard has taken to fighting crime in the Great Depression. This chapter would be more of a standard narrative showcasing the trajectory of The Shadow's 30s career, how he's started off as a urban myth fighting gangsters and then progressed to urban avenger with dozens of allies fighting spies and supervillains. Despite being in his home element, he is restless. Another war is on the horizon. We gotta know where he starts, to get a clue of where he's going.

The 1940s: Despite it being the "family friendly American hero" Shadow era, shit gets very, very chaotic in the 40s, way more so than The Shadow could have anticipated. The pulps were relatively tame for this period, by this point instead you have the radio with it's constantly rotating writers and sensibilities, and comics that had far less reservations about either being really boring or really wacky. Far more encounters with the supernatural than before and with supervillains like Devil Kyoti and Monstradamus and Solaris, plus Khan is still around. The Shadow is forced to spend a lot more time traveling the world to deal with the war, spending a prolonged period establishing headquarters in Japan to aid Japanese underground organizations opposing the military. The agents perform rescue missions on concentration camps, and this is the period where you could have the "real" Lamont Cranston start filling in for The Shadow a bit while he's overseas.

There's a particular blurb that got released during this period that explains The Shadow acquired the power to cloud men's minds not by training, but by journeying to Tibet in an unrecorded adventure that forced him to beg the monks to grant him assistance in saving the world. I have some very mixed feelings on this whole backstory but I think there's something to this idea. Some shit went down in the 40s that was way beyond what The Shadow could have anticipated, and to protect the world from it he had to tap into forces that perhaps should have been left untouched.

The 1950s: The Shadow has dissappeared from America alltogether. He gathered up his agents and announced he wouldn't return for at least a decade, and left them with enough money to last a lifetime and retire should they feel like it. Burbank and Cliff Marsland dissappeared with him, and this chapter would probably be told from the Agents's perspective as they face the 50s while we get snippets from Marsland on what The Shadow's been up to. Some of it involves The Shadow helping protect Tibet after Mao's takeover of China. The real Lamont Cranston doesn't put on the costume anymore and instead operates as a fairly regular detective, although he's training on the skills and powers he's picked up overseas. Whatever fantasy madness haunted the 1940s is all but gone.

The 50s had basically nothing in Shadow content other than the last legs of the radio show, which are 200 episodes from 1950 to 1954 that currently don't exist anymore outside of a few scripts. During this time, The Shadow's sole appearence in US content was a parody in MAD Magazine. Overseas however, there were original Shadow novels published in Norway (a story for another day), as well as a Mexican radio and film series, which also featured Cliff Marsland. I have little information on either.

The 1960s: The OG Shadow is still embroiled in conflicts overseas, but the rise of the criminal organization CYPHER forces him to mobilize Burbank and agents old and new alike to deflect CYPHER away from where he's at, although most of them have retired by now. He still cannot return, but he has been secretly instructing Lamont Cranston on furthering along his own latent abilities if he intends to take over in his stead, and Cranston's powers have grown and developed to a point that, although he is pushing 60, he is able to do things even the original Shadow could not. He also invests a lot in merchandising and costume changes, which...doesn't pan out. Nothing in this era really pans out. It's just a really, really frustrating period of bad luck and supervillains that the aging superpowered detective Cranston is able to stop. Lamont Cranston seems to die in this decade.

The 1970s: Inspired by The Shadow's DC series, and most importantly Michael Kaluta's spiffy redesign.

The original Shadow returns to a crime-torn America, intent on starting anew, and sets to rebuilding his network. But something is off about him. He's leaner, meaner, less compassionate and trusting. Just as what happened the first time he returned to America following years abroad, what happened in his sojourns overseas has fostered something inhuman in him, another sacrifice of his own identity for the sake of a world where the weed of crime has only proven more insidiuous. His powers have grown and so have his resources, but despite that, he's bordering on 80 years old by now, and cumulative trauma deep within his bones hampers his effectiveness. He's doing a lot better than he should, by any rights, but he can't keep this up and he knows it. And so, as before, he starts planning for it.

The 1980s: This was the decade where Walter Gibson died with his final Shadow story incomplete, all the movie plans from the 70s were canned, and Howard Chaykin happened, plus the other DC runs. It's the SHIT decade, basically, where everything goes to hell. Whatever plans The Shadow had blew up, dipshit copycats start ruining everything, his network crumbles, and this is probably the ideal decade to kill off Kent Allard.

But this is also the decade where something weird started happening outside of the story: The Ghost of Gay Street hauntings, where visitors on the hotel Gibson wrote the stories in repeteadly claimed to see a ghostly visitor looking exactly like Lamont Cranston, and Gibson himself claimed that to be a tulpa he created by accident.

Kent Allard may have died. But death can never claim The Shadow.

The 1990s-onwards: Somehow, The Shadow is still active. Still elderly, in a much more limited fashion, but still as sharp as ever if not more so. His powers have grown more so than ever before, even blossoming into a limited form of telekinesis. Is he a ghost? Did he somehow survive the events of the previous decade? Somehow, both Lamont Cranston and The Shadow linger on, but is it Kent Allard or Lamont Cranston? Is it someone else?

Who knows?

This is the decade in particular where he's going to be interacting with more prominently with a new generation, whether it's descendants of the original agents, or new heroes that have found themselves in his orbit. Inspired mainly by the Dark Horse Shadow comics, Ghost and The Shadow, and Peter Straub's Mystery and modern takes on the character like Batman x Shadow and the 2017 mini that play up the miserable immortal and ghost teacher aspects, also inspired by my recent realization that The Shadow's ideal future in-universe may be getting to age and mentor the next generation in some capacity.

Anything beyond that, only The Shadow Knows.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #the shadow #pulp fiction #visual art #comic books #lamont cranston #kent allard #spider-man life story

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

In the Bleak Midwinter {19}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: So, uh, next chapter is the last chapter...

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me

The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Gavriel’s hand hit the sergeant’s desk with a thump.

“We need to know where she is, and we need to know where she is, now.”

“I have no information,” Sergeant Nazari said, through gritted teeth. “I’ve told you as much ten times now, I don’t know when it’ll get through your head.”

Sergeant Nazari had been on the Cadre’s payroll for the past five years. He’d been incredibly helpful through the years, had saved all of their asses a million times, but in this particular situation, Gavriel was about to lose his shit.

He opened his mouth, prepared to scream at the man on the other side of the desk, but Vaughan’s hand gently rested on his shoulder.

Vaughan was right.

Nazari had never lied to them before. He was loyal.

If he was saying he didn’t know where Maeve was, he really didn’t know where she was.

“Fine,” Gavriel breathed. “If you find anything out-.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Sergeant Nazari promised.

With a nod, Gavriel and Vaughan exited the station, pulling out their cigarette cases the moment they stepped out into the street.

“I don’t get it,” Gavriel began, shaking his head. “Someone in this damned city has to know where Maeve has holed herself up.”

He met Vaughan’s weary gaze.

“I know,” Gavriel sighed. “We’re running out of time.”

Vaughan nodded his agreement, his shoulders slumping, but his pace remaining steady as they walked back to their horses. After they mounted their saddles, they were hurrying out of town, back toward the estate.

When they returned, Rhoe and his men were standing outside, smoking, a worried Lysandra pacing in front of them.

“News?” Gavriel asked, before he even hopped off his horse.

Before anyone could answer, a car came speeding up the dirt drive, and Fenrys had the door open before Lorcan had it parked.

“They’re at the old Cartwright Manor!” he yelled, chest heaving, as if they’d been hurrying. Which, with such information, they should have been. “Since Cartwright died last year, it’s been uninhabited.”

The Cartwright Manor was only a few miles west.

“Let’s go,” Gavriel said, readying to mount his horse, yet again.

“We need a plan,” Lorcan said, turning off the engine.

“Like hell we do!” Gavriel yelled. “We’re running out of time!”

“And if we go in there with no plan and create chaos, we’re all going to fucking die!” Lorcan replied, slamming his door shut behind him.

Gavriel knew that Lorcan was right, but it still pissed him off to admit it. “Then what, pray tell, is the plan?”

Lorcan ignored Gavriel’s sarcastic comment. “I don’t fucking know, but I know we need one.”

“Before we all start fighting, because that’s where I see this is headed,” Fenrys began, stepping between them. “I have an idea.”

All eyes landed on him.

“I went to the Cartwright Manor, often, as a kid, Con and I,” he began. “I know the layout pretty well.”

“Why?” Gavriel asked, curiously.

“Is that information necessary right now?” Lorcan muttered.

“Our father was good friends with Mr. Cartwright,” Fenrys answered, plainly. “The servant’s entrance is in the back. There’s this creepy, narrow old tunnel beneath the kitchens, I assume they’re probably being held there. Con and I used to joke that that’s where old Cartwright took his prisoners. Through the servant’s entrance, just to the left, there’s a door. Most mistake it as a coat closet, but it’s a staircase that will lead you downstairs.”

Lorcan nodded, slowly. “We have no idea how many of Maeve’s men are there.”

“True,” Fenrys agreed, and nodded to Rhoe and his men. “But we have them, and plenty of ammunition.”

“So, what?” Gavriel asked. “We break through the servant’s entrance and start shooting?”

Fenrys blinked, shrugging. “Do you have a better idea?”

Gavriel blew a puff of smoke into the air.

No.

No he didn’t.

“We’re all going to die,” Lorcan muttered.

From there, no one said a word. Maybe Lorcan was right, maybe they’d all get shot, maybe Maeve’s men would completely overpower them and everything leading up to this point would be all for nothing.

Elide’s death.

Connall’s death.

Every night they had laid awake, unsure of their futures.

Every anxious day, every agonizing hour, every trip to the hospital or sighting of blood.

But they wouldn’t leave Aelin there, wouldn’t leave Rowan there.

He was their leader.

So Gavriel tossed his cigarette into the dirt and stepped on it. “Let’s reload.”

~~~~~

Rowan had always hated Maeve.

When he was younger, he used to have nightmares of Maeve as an old witch who lived deep in the woods, eating children, like the one from Hansel and Gretel. As he grew older, he felt foolish for ever feeling such a thing, but now, he was right back to imagining her as his living nightmare.

His head hurt, dominantly from the gash on the side of his head. His vision was blurred, blood trailing down his chin. He was fairly certain he had lost a tooth.

Or two.

He could deal with teeth, though. It was the least of what he was about to lose.

Although he had no idea what time it was, he had caught glimpses of the sun high in the sky as he was dragged out of his room with Aelin and brought into a different one. She had cried, screamed as they took him, but he had told her that he loved her, that he would see her soon.

Even though he had no way of knowing if that were true.

He was tied to a chair, weak, weaponless, waiting.

The walls around him were covered in wallpaper, although the windows had been boarded up. He was somewhere upstairs, somewhere in the main living area. There was an oil lamp on a small table not far from him, but aside from that and his chair, the room was empty.

And the old, Persian rug beneath his feet.

The rug that was splattered with his blood.

He groaned, just wanting it all to be over. Everything had gone on for too long, and he was over it, done.

Waiting was the worst part, and all he had been doing for months now was waiting.

He could hear her slow, steady footsteps before she appeared in the doorway.

“Hello, nephew,” she crooned, meandering inside until she was standing only a few feet in front of him.

“Where’s Aelin?” he asked, although his swollen lips had trouble moving.

“Does it matter?” Maeve asked, shrugging. “Wouldn’t stop crying, though. Had to muffle those sobs before I went insane.”

She cocked her head, her eyes glowing.

She had gone insane long ago.

“She goes home.”

Maeve watched him for a moment in silence before a humorless laugh shook her petite frame. “Are you bargaining with me?”

“Let her go home,” Rowan repeated. “Her, and the baby. Let them go home, safely, and I’ll do whatever you want without a fight.”

The room fell into silence, Rowan’s declaration, his promise, echoing in the minimal space.

“I’m beginning to think you’re delusional,” Maeve said, slowly.

“Aelin,” he repeated, a growl underlying his tone. “Gets to go, unharmed.”

“You’ve repeated that, over and over again,” Maeve said, her pretentious grin disappearing. “It’s growing old.”

“Then agree,” Rowan snapped.

“You see, this is where you’re mistaken,” Maeve began, pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’re not in the place to make a bargain. Either way, you die, and Aelin’s safety means nothing to me.”

“Surely you don’t hate me that much,” Rowan said, meeting her gaze. “Let Aelin go free. Please.”

Please. He was sincere when he said it, a word he had never used sincerely with his aunt before. If he wasn’t tied up to a chair, he would be down on his knees, begging, pleading.

Maeve watched him for a long moment, the room going back into silence. Rowan could hear her men walking around downstairs, their boots heavy on the wooden floorboards.

With every step he heard, his heart beat a little faster.

“Maeve,” he growled, when the silence became too unbearable.

Her eyes darkened as her lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Aelin has already been….released.”

There were a lot of different words Maeve could have chosen, but released was one that confused Rowan, pissed him off.

It was a word that could mean so many different things, but every meaning Rowan thought of only made him feel sick to his stomach.

His jaw locked. “Where is she?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mariamuses @garnet-29 @writer-reader-traveller @rowaelin-cressworth @space-buns-arsinoe @negativenesta @empress-ofbloodshed @the-regal-warrior @starseternalnighttriumphant @westofmoon @sammyjojaaaa @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @carbconnoisseur @acer6437 @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cool-ish-nerd @mynewdreamwasyou @mourning-razorlust @thespiritualrider @rowaelinforeverworld @didsomeonesayviolin @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks @queen-of-glass @the-dark-swan @http-itsrebecca @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17 @mollycateoc @chemicha @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls @shyvioletcat @hermajestyanna @a97girl @stardustsroses @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012 @awkward-avocado-s @faerie-queen-fireheart @cwheart @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294 @nerdperson524 @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red @acourtofmoonlight @rowaelinforeverworld @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean @thewayshedreamed @wind-drinker @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @starseternalnighttriumphant @hurema @http-itsrebecca @lorcansalvatearupmyheart @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears @iliketoasterstrudels @lightitup-bryce @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books @keshavomit @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204 @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro @b00kworm @mu-si-ca-l @thegayerpotato @abraxos-is-toothless @keshavomit @musicdreamer003 @superspiritfestival @sailorsassley @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123 @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame @shyvioletcat @maastrash @the-third-me @rinad307

#1920s au #period au #pb au #tog

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what-a-treat-nz · 3 years

Text

World Book Challenge: China

Officially, the People's Republic of China (PRC). It is the world's most populous country, with a population of around 1.4 billion. It covers approximately 9.6 million square kilometers, and is officially divided into 23 provinces, five autonomous regions, four direct-controlled municipalities (Beijing, Tianjin, Shanghai, and Chongqing), and the special administrative regions of Hong Kong and Macau.

The areas in dark green are under direct Chinese control; the areas in light green (Tibet and Taiwan) are contested. For the purposes of this challenge, I’m treating China, Tibet and Taiwan as three separate countries. Because I can.

Number of Chinese people in New Zealand: As of the 2013 Census, there were 163,104 people of “Chinese (not further defined)” ethnicity in New Zealand - 10,008 of those were in Wellington City.

Have I been there? Yes! I visited Shanghai with my Dad in December 2011. I bought a really nice coat, had tea that tasted like warm Fanta (it was oddly addictive), and got hugged by Dave Grohl. So, the usual Chinese experiences, really.

I also had Peking Duck for the first time in my life, and holy hell I didn’t know what I was missing. I’ve tried to make up for it by eating copious amounts of it since.

The books

For “China” on my reading challenge, I read three fantasy novels - Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu, and the final two books of the Poppy War trilogy (The Dragon Republic and The Burning God) by R. F. Kuang, a Chinese-American author.

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (魔道祖师 / Mó Dào Zǔ Shī)

(Book 30 of 2021)

Given the fact that I have an entire subsection of my blog about how much I love the live-action TV show based on this book, it probably shouldn’t be a surprise that I had Mó Dào Zǔ Shī at the top of my list of Chinese books to read.

Mó Dào Zǔ Shī tells the story of Wei Wuxian, a loathed cultivator of dark and demonic arts who resurrects 16 years after his tragic death. His return to the world brings him to reunite with the people in his first life, including his soulmate, the honored Lan Wangji (who mourned him for 16 years, during which he branded himself with the same mark as Wei Wuxian and kept his memory alive and I’m okay, I promise). Wei Wuxian then begins to remember his time before his demise 16 years ago, from his beginnings as a young cultivator to his descent to dark magic. Together, they solve a mystery linked to a dark tragedy from Wei Wuxian’s first life, then live happily ever after.

This novel was originally published on the Chinese web novel site JJWXC from October 31, 2015 - March 1, 2016, with additional side stories that continue to be released sporadically. The revised version of the main story was later published online until September 7, 2016. A paperback version was released on December 12, 2016, with a total of four volumes in traditional Chinese. The first of three planned volumes in simplified Chinese, titled Wuji, was released in 2018, but release of the following installments has stalled after the locking of the novel on JJWXC since January 2019.

Mó Dào Zǔ Shī isn’t officially available in English, and given that it depicts an explicit danmei relationship between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, I don’t think we’ll ever see an official version. Though there are official translations into Korean, Thai, Vietnamese, Russian, Japanese, and Burmese, and the tour for the TV traveled to Toronto, Los Angeles and New York, so maybe one day there will be an official translation.

For now though, you can read the entire novel for free at Exiled Rebels Scanlations, where it has been translated in full by a then-highschooler called “K-san”. It’s hard to actually judge the merits of the writing of the original novel, given I was reading an unofficial translation, but that was actually half of the sweetness of it. It was kinda rough - K-san tweaked the terms they used as they gained more confidence with the translation, and I enjoyed reading the translator and editor notes that accompanied most chapters - especially notes such as “we’re translating as fast as we can, stop asking for faster updates!”. It felt really organic and friendly, and the story is good (though much gorier than the TV show and good god boys, learn what lube is, it’ll make your lives better I promise).

I read the book more as a companion to the TV show though, rather than a novel on it’s own merits, so I’m not sure I can judge it as a novel on it’s own merits. Though the book did teach me one very important piece of information: Lan Wangji canonically smells of sandalwood.

Would I read it again? If an official English translation comes out, I’d probably read that. I’m more likely to watch the TV show again, or dive into one of the sesquillion Untamed fanfics on AO3 ( Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn was the most popular ship on AO3 in 2020, with 12,878 new works about these characters being published that year).

The Dragon Republic and The Burning God

(Books 34 and 35 of 2021)

I read The Poppy War and The Dragon Republic back in September 2019 (when I wasn’t counting how many books I was reading, but I did have a record of them), and I decided to re-read The Dragon Republic because I couldn’t exactly remember where the story was up to.

And it’s a good thing I did, as something I thought happened at the end of The Dragon Republic actually happened at the end of The Poppy War, so oops?

The Poppy War trilogy is a grimdark fantasy novel set in fantasy China, with a Chinese protagonist and written by a Chinese-American author. It’s spectacular. The trilogy draws its plot and politics from mid-20th-century China, though it’s atmosphere is more inspired by the Song dynasty. The conflict in the first book is based on the Second Sino-Japanese War (though this time, it’s the Chinese empire against the Japanese empire), in the second on the start of the Chinese civil war (Chinese empire against nascent Republican movement), and in the third on the end of Chinese civil war (Republicans versus not-Republicans).

It’s a massive trilogy. It’s incredibly complex, with a huge scale and massive numbers of characters, though the fact it’s all seen through Rin’s eyes (with the occasional first and last chapter from the point of view of other characters) helps.

The story follows that of Fang Runin, better known as Rin, a poor war orphan in southern Nikara who trains in secret to test into the elite Sinegard Academy. Throughout the trilogy she deals with racism, sexism, elitism...most of the isms, really. Author R.F. Kuang said that Rin's life is meant to parallel the trajectory of Mao Zedong, and I had fun trying to match events in Chinese history to the events in the book (the easiest ones to spot are the Rape of Nanjing, the nuclear bombing of Japan and the Long March).

I don’t remember Mao Zedong having the power to call on a fire god, however. It’s probably a good thing that’s not something that happened in real life China, as Mao’s policies killed enough people without him literally being able to spit fire.

I described the first book as “If Kvothe from The Name of the Wind was female, Chinese, and allowed to say fuck.” Those two books felt really similar to me - they’re very much your “outsider is accepted to elite academy, winds up pissing off most of their classmates and chooses an obscure major to specialise in before being thrown into a conflict they are key to winning.” But honestly, I preferred the Poppy War trilogy, even if the final book did get super dark.

Rin is a really refreshing character, and the world seen through her eyes is a very different place to one I’m used to reading about. Kuang said that she "chose to write a fantasy reinterpretation of China's twentieth century, because that was the kind of story I wasn't finding on bookshelves", and I’m so glad she did. The world needs more books like this. I’m as pasty and as white as they come, and I loved reading a book where the heroine was authentically Chinese. This isn’t a pakeha author trying to fit themselves into someone else’s shoes - this is someone with a deep understanding of Chinese military history and collective trauma using that understanding and pain to build a new fantasy world.

I loved it, and if you can stomach war scenes, I recommend this trilogy.

Will I read the Poppy War trilogy again? I might do. It’s a bit darker and more desperate than I usually read - particularly The Burning God - but I did enjoy them. So that’s a firm “never say never”.

Bonus book!

These Violent Delights

I read NZ-Chinese author Chloe Gong’s These Violent Delights earlier this year (book number 20 of 2021), before I set myself this challenge, so it doesn’t technically count as an entry for “China” in my book challenge. But it is amazing, and I love it, so I wanted to give it a quick shout out here (because if we’re talking fantasy reimaginings of Chinese 20th century history by Chinese diaspora authors...).

These Violent Delights relocates the story of Romeo and Juliet to 1920s Shanghai, casting the two leads as the heirs to rival gangs. It’s brilliant, it’s beautiful, there were sentences that made me stop and gasp for the sheer delight of having read them, and there’s a monster made of bugs driving the citizens of Shanghai insane. The way Gong has woven the characters from the play into their 1920s counterparts is delightful (I say this as someone who’s never actually read the play, though I think I saw the Leonardo DiCaprio movie because it was difficult to be a tween in the late 90s and not be exposed to his films).

15/10, would definitely read it again, it’s been on the New York Times bestseller list for weeks for a very, very good reason. Stop reading this blog and go get a copy. Now.

The feast

I admit, using China as my first country may have been a bit of a cop out, given my familiarity with Chinese food - though, living in a Western country, I’ve probably eaten more Westernised Chinese food than authentic Chinese food.

Which is why I was chuffed to learn that spring rolls are, actually, authentic Chinese food. I always thought they were a Westernisation, like sweet and sour pork or fortune cookies.

For my Chinese feast, I turned to The Woks of Life, a delightful Chinese cooking blog that I can’t open without being inspired to cook like 9 million things.

When I started this project, I originally was only going to cook one dish from each country. I figured I’d go easy on myself for China, and make 花生酥 (hua sheng su), a traditional sesame peanut brittle.

It’s something I’ve made before - I make little bags of it for my colleagues each lunar new year.

I don’t follow the Woks of Life recipe exactly - for example, I’ve never once roasted and shelled my own peanuts. I tend to use a mix of blanched and pre-roasted peanuts in my 花生酥, and I think it comes out okay. Next time I’m going to increase the amount of sugar I use - I find that 270g of rock sugar is not quite enough to cover the peanuts totally. Which is a pain. Next time I think I’ll use 300g, and turn the heating on in my kitchen so it’s warmer, to stop the brittle from hardening before I can properly get it into the tray to cool.

But then I changed my mind, and decided to throw a full on feast.

For the feast I threw, I made two more dishes from the Woks of Life - Easy Peking Duck with Mandarin Pancakes, and 年糕 (nian gao), or stir-fried rice cakes (though I did them with chicken, not pork, as that’s what I had in my freezer). I also cooked up some spring rolls, as I had them leftover in my freezer from my housewarming (for which I over catered, because I cannot do anything but over cater any event I throw). I should have marinated the duck longer. That one was on me.

I also made some 核桃酥 (he tao su), walnut cookies, which were delicious and I definitely want to make again. I think I’ll add some hazelnuts in as well for additional crunch, and make them slightly smaller - they were 12 very big cookies.

But delicious cookies.

Kisu was most distressed that we did not feed her anything from this feast.

The Playlist

I ended up finding this “Chinese Indie & Rock” playlist on Spotify, which I really enjoyed. I could understand none of the songs, but I enjoyed the heck out of a lot of them. I’ll probably keep listening to this playlist - they were definitely my sort of jams.

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greekgeek21 · 3 years

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Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - percy is taken by the men (women) in black

Ok, so by what I've been hearing, there has been some confusion regarding the timeline, so here's the full explanation: figure it out for yourselves. My beta reader and I have already discussed this (MONTHS AGO IN FACT!) and we ultimately decided to not go into any specifics because it wasn't important to the story and the only thing you guys needed to know was that Percy and Annabeth were 18 now, and it's after the first Avengers movie and that Thor's not there. Got it? Ok, now to the real good stuff!

Thank you to all the people who have responded kindly to this story. Honestly, it made my day to find that I had already received 3 reviews on ff before it had even been out an hour. So, thanks so much guys.

THIS IS STILL CANON I JUST HAVEN'T HAD THE CHARACTERS MENTION MAGNUS CHASE OR THE KANES YET YOU MONGRELS!!! Ok. I think I covered everything. Stay safe and happy reading!

- your author

PS hopefully these will start to get shorter cuz I hate reading long A/Ns on other fanfics so I don't want to be THAT person.

Ω ♆ Ω

Knock Knock

"Come in, Hill," Fury said, already knowing it would be his second-in-command.

As she entered, Fury noticed a slight change in her attitude. It wasn't large, but it was noticeable to the experienced spy's eyes. It was almost- confusion? What could she have discovered that caused her to be confused?

"Sir, I found a possible suspect. He's...not what we expected," Hill told him, placing a file on his desk.

The file included a single piece of paper. A SINGLE PIECE OF PAPER!!! Who was this guy that could evade SHIELD's suspicion for so long? Surely, someone smart. Very smart.

"What do you mean, Hill?" he asked, picking up the paper.

The woman in question cleared her throat before responding, "See for yourself. He's just a kid."

Not displaying any surprise, though there was some going through his head, Fury read the information on the sheet:

Name: PERSEUS "PERCY" JACKSON

Gender: MALE

Age/DOB: 18; AUGUST 18, 1993

Status: ALIVE

Last Known Location: MANHATTAN, NY

Place of Birth: MANHATTAN, NY

Race: CAUCASIAN

Height: 6'1"

Hair: BLACK

Eyes: GREEN

Disabilities: DYSLEXIA, ADHD

Family: Sally Blofis (Formerly Jackson), Mother - ALIVE

Paul Blofis, Step Father - ALIVE

Estelle Blofis, Maternal Half Sister - ALIVE

Gabe Ugliano, Step Father - MISSING

BIOLOGICAL FATHER UNKNOWN

Education: GOODE HIGH SCHOOL - EXPELLED

YANCY ACADEMY - EXPELLED

...6 OTHER EXPULSIONS

Abilities/Weapons: CLASSIFIED

Other Info: Was involved in a nation-wide manhunt at 12 years old; Pushed class into shark tank; Blew up school bus with colonial cannon; Flooded an Aquarium; Seen traveling Greece with six other teens after missing three months of school (wasn't reported missing by parents);Suspected abilities; Was seen at Brooklyn Bridge explosion

Fury sighed. Just great. Another troublemaker to give him a headache. And what was with the Classified stamp? Nothing is classified to the director of the company who created the file, so why was this?

Deciding to put it off for further thought, and steeling himself over again, Fury gave his orders to Agent Hill, "Find him. Bring him in for questioning. Don't make a scene."

They were simple orders in themselves, but Fury knew better than to expect everything to go smoothly. Any second grader could figure out that Perseus Jackson was not one to do things smoothly. Hell, it would be a miracle if they even got the chance to talk to the kid before he did some crazy stunt that would most likely get someone hurt. That's just how Fury's luck was.

"Understood, sir. I'll let you know when we have him in custody," Hill answered before briskly striding out the office door.

Fury sighed once she was gone, running a hand over his face. With nobody watching, he could truly let the stress on the inside seep into the outside. It wasn't just this one case either, there had been a couple other bombings popping up around the US, and they weren't any closer to finding the source. All they knew about them was that they were connected and that they were seemingly random attacks. Add finding Jackson to the mix and his mind was about ready to implode.

But unfortunately, the director of SHIELD didn't have time for breaks, so he went back to work on the multitude of information residing on his desk.

Ω ♆ Ω

Percy and Annabeth were back at home, which was currently the Blofis apartment, and they were enjoying every minute of it. With his sister Estelle around, there was always something to do. Percy absolutely adored his sister. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Just another side effect of his fatal flaw.

He hadn't told his mother or Paul what had happened during their trip, not wanting to worry them, but he had given Annabeth the simple explanation when he got back. He made sure to stress that he had been discreet, so she had eventually given up the interrogation. That's why it was such a surprise when they were sent a visitor not a week later.

When it happened, Percy was playing with Estelle in the living room while Annabeth studied in their room. Even though she had graduated from high school early, and they weren't due to start at New Rome University for several months, she insisted on keeping up with her studies. He, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less about school. The only reason he was going to college was so he could stay near Annabeth.

Sally was cooking lunch in the kitchen, and Paul was at work. There wasn't much the man could do for the case of Percy's expulsion from Goode, but he still worked there as an English teacher. And Percy used the powers of being a savior of Olympus to get a diploma for himself from the gods anyway. Annabeth still made him study sometimes, but he figured it was the least he could do after practically giving his girlfriend a heart attack when he announced he wasn't planning on finishing mortal high school.

Just as he was about to let Estelle win their game of cars, there was a knock at the door. Since his mother was closer to it, Percy didn't feel the need to interrupt his playtime with his baby sister. A year ago, Percy would have bolted to the door to make sure it wasn't a monster, but ever since the end of the Giant War, monsters tended to steer clear of the smell of the sea. Besides Kelli, of course. She was a perpetual nuisance for Percy.

And just as he was about to make his car lose, his mother called him, "Percy! There's someone at the door for you."

He was immediately on alert. The way his mom's voice sounded made it seem like she was trying to warn him, so his mind went straight down monster lane. Gripping Riptide in his pocket, Percy made his way to the front door, trying to act casual, but his muscles were tensed for battle.

"Coming, Mom!" he answered.

What he found was certainly not what he was expecting. Sure, it wouldn't have been a surprise to find that it wasn't obviously a monster, but his eyes weren't completely masked by the Mist. He could still tell when in the presence of something related to the divine, and he most-certainly was not in that moment.

As he got to the door, he noticed that his mom had positioned her body to block the entrance to the apartment. So not a monster, but possibly a threat, he concluded.

"Who's this?" he asked his mom, taking her place in front of the doorway.

"I'm Agent Hill with the FBI, and I have a few questions to ask. Would it be alright if we stepped inside?" the woman introduced herself, flashing a badge.

Percy wished he could have checked the badge's authentication, but his dyslexia prohibited that. He did his best to keep a cool persona as he acted like he could actually read what was on the badge. Given that his mother hadn't made any protests, he passed it off as good enough.

He narrowed his eyes at the agent, assessing her threat level quickly before deciding that saying 'no' would cause more trouble than saying 'yes' and answering with a simple, "Sure."

He and his mom backed away and let the women enter before shutting the door behind them. As the woman walked inside, Percy and his mom shared a silent conversation. He told her to take Estelle to her room and stay with her after alerting Annabeth of their visitor. He was sure that his girlfriend had already figured it out, but better to be safe than sorry.

"Take a seat. Do you want anything to drink?" Percy gestured to the kitchen table and went to grab glasses out of the cupboard.

The woman took a seat before saying, "Some water would be great, thank you."

Percy mentally noted that the woman was keeping a professional front while trying to still be friendly.

After he had gotten the water and sat himself down across from Agent Hill, he said, "You said you wanted to ask some questions. I'm not sure why, though. I haven't done anything."

Hill took a sip of her water before responding, "Well, we are just going over some of our older files and wanted to fill in some blanks on yours. For instance, where were you when you disappeared? We have a record saying you were spotted in Greece."

Percy had been prepared for this question. Annabeth had ingrained it in his head after he had run into his old swim team and had fumbled over an answer. After that, Annabeth had come up with a whole explanation for what seemed like every possible question out there.

So, he quickly answered, "I was with my dad."

He had been told that it was best to answer with short sentences. That way there was less room for confusion. Honestly, he was surprising himself with the calmness he exhibited. Annabeth had suspected he would end up needing her to rescue him if the need for these explanations ever arose.

"I thought you didn't know who your dad was," Hill countered smoothly, gaze becoming almost snake-like.

"We recently connected. He lives in Greece," Percy said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out some blond curls peeking out from the edge of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. His mind let out a sigh at the knowledge that his Wise Girl was here to save him from whatever inevitable mistake he made.

"Ok, then could you please inform me of his name?" Hill asked, "And then maybe we could travel somewhere more private for the rest of my questions."

She could tell that they were being spied on, then. That seemed like a little above the average skill-level of an FBI agent to Percy, but he was just basing his thoughts off of movies, so he wasn't too sure.

Whatever the case, there was no way that he was going to go anywhere with Agent Hill. Here at home, he was on his turf. Wherever he was taken would be unknown territory, and it was common sense to not go into there.

Trying to dodge the name question, he said, "I'm not going anywhere with you without a warrant. I have rights, you know."

He was just saying what sounded right. Honestly, he had slept through US History. He barely knew who the first president was, let alone his constitutional rights.

"Those are irrelevant with probable cause, and we're only going to ask some more questions. I promise that if you come calmly, there will be no record of it anywhere," Hill said, standing up and brushing off invisible dirt from her clothes.

Percy thought about it, he really did...for a whole three seconds. I mean, what would one expect from the most irrational person on the planet?

"Yeah...sorry but I'm not going anywhere with you, especially not calmly," he said, standing up and reaching into his pocket again.

Even though he knew that the Agent was a mortal, and that Riptide would be useless in a fight against her, he still had an instinct to go for his most-trusted weapon when endangered. And in the moment, he felt extremely endangered.

Hill seemed to be trying to inconspicuously reach for her gun, but he saw it. His ADHD had kicked into overdrive, and he was noticing every little movement the woman made. ADHD could come in handy sometimes.

"Mr. Jackson, I highly suggest you stand down and let me take you in. I don't want this to get messy," Hill said smoothly, holding a hand out in a placating gesture.

"Too bad everything I do gets messy," Percy said, trying to simply swipe Agent Hill's legs out from under her, but she jumped over it and threw a punch to his temple, which is swiftly dodged.

Percy may have been taught to never hit girls when he was younger, but when he became a demigod, he learned that a threat could come from anywhere, and more often than not, it came from the female gender (or something resembling a female).

His signature troublemaker smirk made its way onto his face when he realized that this fight was actually something he had to work for. He wasn't arrogant persay, but he knew what he had defeated before, and a simple mortal isn't usually a comparison to them. But he knew better than to underestimate any opponent. Annabeth taught him that one. Speaking of Annabeth, she was still hiding behind the wall, probably waiting until the prime moment to strike. Always the strategist!

Hill and Percy's fight become a fluid motion. Sometimes they got a hit in, but most of the time it was a game of defend and retaliate. Nobody had the upper hand...yet.

Percy may be better at swordsmanship, but it wasn't like he was completely ignorant to hand-to-hand combat. He knew some stuff, including how to feint and attack. Blame Luke for that one.

So, Percy used the technique. He wasn't actually expecting it to work, considering the obvious skill level of the agent he was fighting, but maybe a simple trick was just the thing he needed to knock her off her game. Even so, when he feinted a punch to her temple, just to pull back and knee her in the stomach, he didn't stop in shock. He let his adrenaline guide him into pulling the woman into a headlock that even Tyson, with all his cyclops strength, would have trouble getting out of.

Hill pulled at his arm a couple times before giving up on that strategy and trying another one: talking, "You know, Perseus, this little display makes it really hard for me to believe you're innocent. In case you haven't noticed, you're holding a federal agent in a headlock."

Percy grip barely loosened, but his determination to defy the agent's questions lessened. She was right. What makes her think that he's one of the good guys if he fought another one of them? Nothing, that's what. Because of this, he let out a large sigh, making eye contact with Annabeth (who's eyes widened in realization and shock), and released Agent Hill. He knew that she had manipulated her, but he also knew that what she had said was true.

As soon as Hill was out of his hold, she turned around while simultaneously pulling her gun out and pointing it at Percy, chest heaving for breath, "Don't move! Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head."

Percy complied, but he could see Annabeth finally slipping into the light, ready to fight off the woman arresting her boyfriend. He met her eyes and tried to convey his thoughts, but she ignored him, instead opting to go ballistic on Agent Hill.

"What do you think you're doing?! Let him go!" she yelled and grabbed Percy as Hill cuffed Percy with some seriously high-tech handcuffs and tried to pull him to his feet.

Hill kept a steel face as she shoved Percy towards the door, "He assaulted a federal agent. I have probable cause."

All of the noise had pulled Sally out of her hiding spot in her daughter's room. Once she saw what was happening, she joined Annabeth in protest. Percy just really wanted them to let it happen. Better it be him than anyone else.

"Mom, Annabeth, let me go. I'll be fine, I promise." Percy said, eyes pleading as they reached the front door.

Annabeth scoffed, eyebrows furrowing, "Like that means anything!"

"Mom, let me go. I'll be fine," After saying that to his mother, Percy turned to Annabeth, "Tell my cousins what's going on. They can help."

He prayed that she understood what he was trying to say. He wanted her to tell their demigod friend's what happened to him, and then they could help her with whatever plan she comes up with. Knowing Annabeth, she already had a plan, though, so there was no doubt in his mind that she had understood what he was insinuating.

Annabeth hesitated before giving him a curt nod. Hill took that as her signal to tug him out the door, but before he was completely gone, Annabeth grabbed his face in her hands and gave him a kiss. They were deepening it as the Agent once again pulled him away. Annabeth and his mom's worried faces followed him until he was inside the elevator, heading down to the lobby.

On the ride down, his entire body tensed up as flashbacks from the Doors of Death shot through his mind. Usually, he could push them away when Annabeth was there with him, but the stress of the previous hour was weighing on his mind, so it became difficult. Hill seemed to think that he was going to try to resist again, so she pulled out her gun again, aiming at his side. For the first time, Percy noticed that the gun looked a little odd; it was glowing blue. Then, before he could react, Hill pulled the trigger and the last thing Percy saw before he blacked out was blue liquid seeping out of his side.

Ω ♆ Ω

How was it? Let me know in the comments! As always, like, follow, and reblog pls!! Thank you to my amazing beta reader, nightskywithrainbows on Ao3! This would suck without you! Go check out their writing!

- your author

other chapters :)

#pjo #heroes of olympus #the avengers #mcu #percy jackson and the olympians #fanfic #writing #superheroes #team up #I don't know what other tags to put so here is a super long one

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testingtwns · 4 years

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Another stuck sneeze story, roughly 3k words, which takes place in the mid-1700s and in Russia. More information under the cut!

This is a fanfic based on an anime called Le ChevaIier D’Eon. The show is known by few and watched by fewer, so there may be a small handful of you who will know who I am based solely on the fact that I like this series. And, yes, the character that sneezes in this story is Maximilien Robespierre, though his anime counterpart is pretty different from who he was as an actual person. Here’s what Robespierre looks like in the anime. And here’s Lorenzia, the other character who appears in the story (and was maybe also a real person?). Even though I’ve made it obvious, I’ll just say again that this story is very much about their fictional representatives and not the actual historical figures.

Enjoy!

Lorenzia felt she understood the ways of men better than those of women. That knowledge was inevitable when you were a whore. Her body was her tool, it always had been, even before she’d christened herself in poetry and let spellwords snake across her skin. And in retrospect, the lessons men taught her hadn’t been difficult to learn. The men she’d known were pigs, running on instinct and instant gratification. A virgin soldier and his stoic captain were different in their expectations of pleasure, but the end result was always the same.

Lorenzia thought herself streetwise, but she knew now that her education in darkness was just beginning. The brothels and alleyways where sin festered were humorous, predictable—petty. The world of the rich had black secrets all its own. That was where the strings were pulled and real power dwelled. These powerful men were the ones she took lessons from now.

Maximilien Robespierre was such a man. He was a revolutionary. Lorenzia didn’t fully understand what circumstances had brought him in opposition of the monarchy, for he would not tell her. Robespierre’s motives didn’t pique her so much as his disposition, though. He was one of those rare types Lorenzia found endlessly intriguing: the type who would not bare his underbelly, figurative or literal, for a moment of ecstasy. Lorenzia had kissed so many loose lips, she wondered if the clamped ones had a different taste, a motley of secrets tucked under their tongues. Robespierre was not interested in letting her try.

Even now, as she observed him at the desk from her place on the bed, her lean body sprawled like a lazy cat’s, utterly coquettish, he continued to quill a letter without any glance in her direction. Robespierre hadn’t spared her a word since Cagliostro left the inn to buy more vodka. Lorenzia smirked with a quiet snort. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do; when in Russia, drink as the Russians do,” was Cagliostro’s parting word. Another curiosity, that man— not weak to her breasts either, though perhaps it was because he’d seen them often. But at least Cagliostro had weaknesses, could declare himself mortal. Maximilien Robespierre’s countenance was almost otherworldly.

So, as Lorenzia had been so often studied by men, she studied him from her sideways stretch across the mattress. The book was next to him, as it always was. She narrowed her eyes at it. That tired brown tome had rejected her, and she was still offended. Only Maximilien could open it. When she tried, it had remained as tightly shut as if the pages were glued together. Cagliostro couldn’t even lift it. The book was full of Poet’s knowledge, no doubt. Such strong magic she had never witnessed before. It was just another secret swarming around a secret man.

Outside, the champagne-colored sky of a Russian dusk sent most travelers indoors, to inns and bars alike. The quill scratching across the parchment was the only noise that filled the chamber. Lorenzia felt hypnotized by it, lost in the lull of its gentle scraping… at least until it suddenly stopped. Maximilien paused, shifted in his chair. He sniffed, put his quill down, and dove the hand inside his jacket. Lorenzia felt her curiosity perking like a hound’s ears at gunfire. What was he looking for? He found it fast. His back was to her, but from her angle there was enough of his face visible to see it tilted back before the handkerchief he offered. A sneeze? It seemed the case, though seconds passed and there was no such announcement.

“Something the matter?” she drawled, voice honeyed with drowsiness.

Her words set him into motion once more. Robespierre brought the handkerchief to his nose and blew politely enough for the company of a lady before tucking it away again. “Nothing.”

“What are you writing?” Now that the silence was broken, she felt she could prod him further.

“It isn’t a concern.”

“Then there should be no harm in telling me,” Lorenzia mused.

“No harm, and no purpose.” Maximilien had resumed the letter now. His script, neat and even, matched his tone all too well.

Lorenzia propped herself up a bit. Her virgin white sleeve slipped farther down her forearm. “Shall I look over your shoulder, then, and spare you the effort of conversation?”

His eyes were to the paper, not on her pale arms, but her words did the trick. “It is for Bestuzhev. Addressing his concerns about Pyotr.”

“Of which he must have a thousand,” Lorenzia chuckled lightly.

“He must let go of those concerns if he is to see his plot through.” Maximilien paused his hand again. Kept writing. “It is Bestuzhev’s love for his country that keeps him from overtaking it.”

Lorenzia felt an excited stirring in her stomach. What a different world this was, to be in the presence of those who spoke of destroying the crown so casually. Cagliostro was right: they’d shed their comedy of a life for a tragedy, and it was every ounce more interesting. “But, do we not all have some love for our mother country?”

“Not all. Hh-!” His answer ended with a sharp intake of breath that made his spine straighten with the jolt of his shoulders. Lorenzia leaned up on her elbows to watch as he ducked his hand back into the recesses of his jacket to claim that handkerchief again and thrust it out before his face. He gasped once more, just barely a sound from parted lips. He was sure to sneeze. Lorenzia waited.

He didn’t sneeze. Maximilien relaxed and gave the smallest sigh as he tucked the cloth away.

“What is that all about?” Lorenzia draped her legs over the edge of the bed, letting her skirts fall where they may. “Why don’t you sneeze? You have to, don’t you?”

“Hmm.” Maximilien busied himself with the letter again. “I suppose I mustn’t if it doesn’t happen.”

His usually calm voice held just the slightest hint of frustration. Lorenzia was fixated. His composure was like a curl of paper peeling off its wall to reveal the whitewash beneath. If she decided to tug at that curl, how much more would she expose?

“Your nose is causing you trouble,” she pried.

Maximilien sniffed. “As are you.”

Lorenzia laughed, coy. “I am as bad as a sneeze that won’t come? You compare an ally to an enemy.”

An enemy it proved, as the phantom sneeze struck again and made him beg for it with a wavering, “Hhh...” He wrenched out the handkerchief with such urgency that Lorenzia thought his battle won. He hovered before his hand, his mouth marginally agape and wanting, but before long his shoulders dropped as his breath huffed out. Not to be. Robespierre was the sort to keep his composure intact, but Lorenzia fancied she could see his eyebrows lowering with each failed attempt.

She smiled to herself. Before her no longer was a being without exploit. Lorenzia was quite familiar with men who couldn’t reach relief on their own.

She stood up from the bed and padded over to him, doe-like, serpentine, not trying for alluring so much as masterful. Robespierre eyed her watchfully and stiffened. What obstinacy! Rarely did Lorenzia face such an iron shield. The challenge of lowering his guard enticed her.

Robespierre resisted by organizing the parchment before him, tapping the papers together in his hands. He coughed low in his throat. “Perhaps a bit of fresh air will cure this.”

“Will it? The window is open. Here.” Lorenzia reached to the desk to take up the quill. It was a goose feather, a tawny gray, the follicles lying in a tame diagonal. “I imagine this would cause a sneeze much faster than ‘fresh air.’”

Robespierre showed his immediate opposition with a furrowed brow, and then stood, taller by a good seven inches. “If I’m lucky, fresh air will cause it. If I’m luckier still, fresh air will drive it away. Pardon.”

Lorenzia gripped his arm before he left – the most brash she’d ever been with him, but she knew her voice alone wouldn’t keep him there. “Come now. Your not-quite-sneeze is curing my boredom... And it’s not polite to leave a lady alone. Would you abandon me and not even hesitate?”

At that final sentence, his usually composed features stirred towards despondence, which then dissolved into slow anticipation as said “not-quite-sneeze” returned to bother him further. The arm Lorenzia wasn’t grappling struggled to pull the handkerchief free and, once successful, covered his face with it…

His long-lashed eyes, dolphin gray, dauphin gray, held a sheen from the tickle in his nose, a sheen that reflected all nearby light from the candles and the window. In those sparkling eyes, Lorenzia suddenly imagined that there had, once upon a time, been a man who lived in the sounds of women’s laughter and the dull colliding of wooden steins and a song from the throat of a soldier. Who mourned the loss of that man? Did anyone? Did Robespierre?

It was too much. At last the tickle proved strong enough to become a sneeze, and Robespierre collapsed into his handkerchief with a sharp, single, “Ch’schuh!”

Lorenzia felt his body tremble with it up through her arm. “À tes souhaits, monsieur!” she simpered, pressing the inside of her elbow to his. “Though I do believe your wish just came true, yes?”

“… Sch’iuu!” A second tagged just after the first, muffled into the handkerchief again. He squinted his lids, as if he were trying to look at something close to his face. Was it a third sneeze on the way? Yes, it was – the handkerchief pressed beneath his nose, and the air came fast, frantic, into his lungs, lifting his diaphragm up, up–

And then dropping it in a sudden huff of breath.

And lifting it again–!

And… nothing.

Robespierre’s posture was a struggling against the hesitant third, somehow the most stubborn, of the sneezes, and Lorenzia saw her chance. She reached behind him to his quill on the desk, holding it delicately between forefinger and thumb. He didn’t stop her when she moved in towards him, mere inches away; he was too preoccupied with his closed eyes and fluttering breaths. Under normal circumstances, he would not let her, or anyone, this close to him. Lorenzia opened her mouth in a small smile, charmed by his distraction, his neediness, as she brought the feather to his face.

At the slightest touch, he pulled away. She pursued. He pulled away again, stumbling backwards to his chair and trying to turn to the desk, but Lorenzia caught him by his chin and turned him towards her instead. She felt his resistance to her soft fingers, wondered suddenly, briefly, if a woman had broken his heart, that her touch wasn’t an unusual sensation to him but in fact something all too familiar. That, like her spells, Robespierre’s skin was blanketed in memories and to touch him was to reopen a hundred invisible wounds.

But Lorenzia had never been the type of woman to hold back.

The introduction of the feather to the inside of his nose was met with a blustering snort. The next attempt was not much better. She imagined the feeling was very foreign and unpleasant, and Robespierre swatted her off when she tried again. He glared at her with watery eyes.

“Enough of that,” he growled. “You are only making it worse.”

“That’s what your problem is,” Lorenzia said, bringing the feather under his chin. “It’s a sneeze. It has to get worse before it can get better.”

Robespierre went very quiet at that, but kept his jaw raised, not yet giving in to her argument. Lorenzia waved the feather against his right ear temptingly. He didn’t respond to it. He stared, not happy but not angry, as if he were looking right through her. Eventually, he closed his eyes. It was not her actions that seemed to undo Robespierre; it was more as though he had reached some decision with himself. The angle of his head sort of relaxed, then, as if letting her know she had permission to try again.

Lorenzia put on another slow smile. Even though she had ‘won,’ it had not been an easy victory, and she delighted in that notion.

This time Robespierre let the feather go deeper into his nose, as if to prove his acceptance. It still wasn’t long before he had to snort against it, but it was tucked in too deep to be forced out this time. Pleased by this, Lorenzia began to stir the feather around with tantalizing slowness. Robespierre’s response was subtle but immediate. He took in a few gasping breaths, so thin and light like whispers. His arms were folded, and his fingers twitched and tightened on their opposite elbow. When Lorenzia began to reverse the spinning of the quill, he clenched his teeth, grimaced, and opened his eyes to slits.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t take your time,” he rasped.

Lorenzia’s smile became more prim. “I’m not trying to take my time. Is it working then?” She trembled the feather as she swirled it and watched to see his response.

Robespierre shifted his posture uncomfortably. His upper lip twitched and his eyes narrowed. The feather wasn’t moving things along as quickly as he would have liked, she could tell, and before his patience could wear off and he’d say “Never mind,” Lorenzia tried fervidly to make him sneeze. The feather spun faster, twitched more. It was bothering him, she could tell, but it wasn’t bothering him enough.

As his eyebrows began to knit and Robespierre opened his mouth, as if to protest, Lorenzia touched the feather to the back of his nose and gave it the tiniest of tremors. It was the last thing she could think of. Would it work?

Robespierre’s eyes widened, then clenched. “Hhh…”

Lorenzia kept at it. Robespierre sniffed, fluttery. “H-hh… Hh-huh…”

His gasps were getting deeper, sounding fuller in his chest than the light breaths from before. Proud of her success, Lorenzia continued this subtle gesture, and soon Robespierre’s head was tipping back, responding to the tiny stimulus much more urgently than the twisting. He couldn’t stand it, not for another instant. And with the feather tucked as far in as it would yield, and trembling like a leaf in a summer breeze, Lorenzia watched the stoic, steadfast Maximilien Robespierre lose control.

“—SHH’IUUU!”

He sneezed. It was a sneeze as stubborn as he was, and he’d barely had the resolve to brush Lorenzia’s hand to the side before it came free. The quill had fallen to the floor when he’d done it. His recovery seemed immediate; other than his still-pink nose, one might have guessed he hadn’t sneezed at all, if they hadn’t seen it happen. But though his face was placid, it was not the end. Robespierre turned fully to the desk, whisking out his handkerchief, and sneezing into it three more times. “… Sh’iuuu! Huh-shhoo! —shhh!” Then he blew, roughly, politely, a last time, and sighed like someone who was tired.

“À tes souhaits,” Lorenzia purred again. She picked up the feather from its place on the floor and pointed at him with its soft tip. “Well? Did that do the trick then?”

She had been hoping Robespierre would be embarrassed by the ordeal, or maybe even a little relieved and thankful—anything other than his usual despondence. But his eyes were foggy and distant as he tucked his handkerchief away, and he was quiet for a moment.

“Well?” Lorenzia smirked, though she was feeling a little put-off. “Not even a thank you?”

Robespierre did look at her then. If he were smiling, it was so small as to be scarcely perceptible. She could have been imagining it. “I was under the impression that that was an exchange, not a favor.” His voice was as rehearsed as ever. “You’ve cured my ailment, and I’ve cured yours.”

Lorenzia blinked, eyebrows joining in puzzlement. “My ailment?”

Robespierre took the quill not forcefully from her fingers. “Your boredom.”

With that, he set back to his letter with the very culprit that had caused his sneeze.

Lorenzia watched him. The feather was only a bit disheveled by its ordeal. The man who held it was in equal poise. Somehow, she felt she knew Maximilien Robespierre even less than she had before.

After another ponderous moment, Lorenzia trailed back to the bed and curled up on it, a lounging jungle cat once more. Outside, the roof of the pale sky was dappled with tiny stars. She heard Cagliostro coming up the road, shouting something merry to a passerby in a voice that said he’d already gotten started on that vodka. Soon he’d be upstairs, a bottle in each hand, and the din of the room would surely be broken until he fell into a drunken sleep.

“Lorenzia.”

Robespierre’s voice was somehow quiet and powerful at once. It cut through the air just as well as Cagliostro’s booming laughter.

Lorenzia sat up, playing her fingers through her thick hair. “Mm?”

“There’s no need to tell Cagliostro about what transpired while he was away.”

Lorenzia’s mouth opened just a bit in surprise. Then she smiled. “And… if I did tell him?”

Robespierre’s hand had not stopped writing while he spoke. “I should not feel the need to stay company with someone who I cannot trust, nor should I feel inclined to protect their secrets… or, perhaps, alleviate their boredom.”

Without any wind blowing through the window, Lorenzia felt herself shiver. She was not sure if she could love men anymore, but this particular man knew how to keep her interest.

She bowed her head to him as if he were a king. “Well… we certainly can’t have that, now, can we?”

#sneeze kink #snz kink #male again

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emmettspeakz · 4 years

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Gotta Love DnD, Victor

Love Victor fanfic

Summary: It’s a week after Victor has come out to his family and a few friends, but they haven’t really acknowledged it one way or another. Desperate to help get his friend’s mind off of his family’s reaction (or lack of a reaction) to his coming out, Felix designs a DnD campaign that Victor, Bram, and Simon can play, with Felix as the DM. Fun and crazy stuff ensues.

Hope y’all enjoy <3

“So how do we do this? All I got are dice.” Bram asks through Felix’s computer screen, holding lime-green crystal dice up to the camera. He and Simon are sitting on the couch in the middle of their apartment, with no space between them. Victor couldn’t help but feel like they were the perfect couple, and hoped that one day Benji and him could be the same way.

It was the weekend after Victor had come out to his family and they had started acting like he hadn’t said anything at all. Victor felt like right now that was for the best, as he didn’t really wanna talk about it anymore either. Things were weird with Mia and Lake, because although she had declared her love for Felix, Lake wasn’t talking to Victor at all, in solidarity and die-hard friendship fashion for Mia. Benji had sent him sweet text messages this week like “hang in there” or “hair looks great today bud” and that would help a bit, but also Victor couldn’t shake the feelings of regret and pain away. That’s how this weekend had happened. Felix had insisted they play DnD to get his mind off things. But because Victor and Felix couldn’t afford to go back to New York, they were somehow trying to do DnD through Skype. It wasn’t working all that well, but god damn it if Felix wasn’t gonna let Victor mope around his house anymore.

“It’s not that difficult now that you guys told me what classes you wanted to be. I think you all should give your characters names though. It’s not creative if you’re just Victor and Bram and Simon.”

Simon gave Felix a look through the webcam, raising his eyebrows.

“No offense.” Felix replied, awkwardly. Felix had moved all the newspapers his mother had collected into the supply closet to make room on the coffee table for DnD, but the closet had reached capacity and Victor worried it would comically burst open like their lives were a part of a cartoon.

“Nice to meet you two by the way. You guys...are—”

While Felix was talking, the couple maintained eye contact with him as Simon rested his head on Bram’s shoulder.

“Right, okay.”

“Felix! You know they’re boyfriends!” Victor called out, sounding more like his teasing self than he has all week.

“I still can’t believe that you never told me you went to New York! The Big Apple? Times Square? You know how much I love Broadway!”

“Well you guys will just have to come visit us again sometime.” Bram suggested, putting his arm around his boyfriend affectionately.

“Alright so let’s start.” Victor said, not wanting to be reminded of the trip that made him lie to his then-girlfriend.

“Okay, so Bram you’re a paladin—” Felix began before he was cut off.

“Paladin? I’m definitely not just brawns!” Bram protested.

“You picked your character!” Victor laughed.

“I know but I think I’m a bit more of a—”

“No, no, no, no. I sent you a character sheet, you filled it out and sent it back to me and then I added the modifiers and all the technical stuff and sent it back to you, so it’s finalized!” Felix said, all his words jumbled together in a long string, sounding hyperactive as usual. “Now,” Felix continued, grabbing a D20 die from on top of his brown coffee table. “Let’s do this.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t know much about DnD, but I do know that the DM can’t play too.” Victor said, grabbing Felix’s hand tightly.

“Oh c’mon, let me play Victor! I need this! I haven’t seen Lake in—”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me. Just roll dice when you’re supposed to, DM Felix.”

“Fine, fine, fine, fine,” Felix said, moving a hand through his hair. “Let’s start with this.”

He had four plastic figures, three of them representing Bram, Simon, Victor, and then one representing a figure that Felix started to describe as the Demigorgon before Victor told him to pick something else ‘cause that was “too Stranger Things”.

“Wait, wait, wait. Which character am I again?” Simon interjected before playing had even begun.

“You’re the warlock, the one with a staff, represented by the purple figure on the table.” Felix explained briskly so they could move onto actual gameplay. Simon nodded in understanding and sat back on the couch, letting Felix do his thing.

“Anyway, this big—” Felix met Victor’s gaze “—monster straight out of the movie Alien—”

Victor couldn’t help but laugh, not about Felix’s uncreativeness or lack of forethought about monsters, but the fact that he was the only straight boy in this group and he happened to somehow be the nerdiest one of all four of them.

“You mean gay out of the movie alien?” Simon asked, thinking the same thing Victor was. Victor, Bram, and Simon burst into laughter and all Felix could do was bite his lip awkwardly at the joke.

“Okay so Boris the Brave, Seamus the Strong, and Vladimir the Valiant—”

“Wait, those are our names?” Bram asked, chuckling.

“You guys didn’t pick your names so I made something up on the spot. Now stop interrupting!”

Simon and Bram put their hands up defensively, almost at the same time and Victor chuckled at that. Watching them over the call, Victor was just in awe by them. He guessed that when you were in a relationship for 2+ years, you started acting like the other person. It was weirdly sweet and Victor couldn’t get enough of it. This was what it was supposed to be like to love someone like he did. Maybe one day him and Benji would be that close, would be so love that they were in total sync. It sucked that he was jealous of them, but he was.

“So you guys are traveling through this cave and this big monster thing that looks like it’s from Alien jumps out and lunges at you. Bram, your action.”

“Uh, can I throw Simon at it?”

“Hey!”

“You can if you’d like.” Felix responds. But Bram is shaking his head.

“Can I sing to it?” Victor jokes, smiling brighter than he has in days, his cheeks burning. And when Felix glares at him he simply responds, “What? Isn’t that all that Bards can do in battle?”

“Y’know what, roll for that.”

“For what?”

“Performance! C’mon, you know this! I went over it with you every single day this week during lunch!”

Victor chuckles as Felix puts his blue die into his hand. Victor gives it a good shake before he throws it onto the table.

“10.”

Fellix then takes his own die and rolls his own number.

“I got 15, so that did not hit. The Alien is still awake, and none of its stats have been altered.”

“Nice try Victor!” Simon said encouragingly, before turning to his boyfriend. “Maybe this is a job for a paladin?”

“Okay, I’ll try. Um, I’m going to attack the Alien with my sword.”

“Okay, roll for strength, then add your modifier from your character sheet.” Felix said.

Bram ironically cracked his knuckles before taking his die and rolling, which both Victor and Simon found amusing.

“Uh, 14. Plus my strength modifier which is +2.”

“Okay, you definitely hit it. Now roll for damage given.”

Bram looked blankly at Felix.

“Just, roll the die again to see how much damage you deal on the Alien.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

Bram rolls again.

“Uh, 9. Is that with the modifier still or no?”

“Not this time, but you’ve dealt 9d sword damage to the Alien, which means you’ve been spotted and Simon’s character can’t use his stealth to get away anymore.”

“What? We could’ve snuck around it?” Bram grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air.

“It’s an open-world kind of game, man. You gotta think outside of the box.” Felix replied pointedly. Bram sighed and handed the die to Simon, who chose to roll for dexterity, to run away from the alien.

“Isn’t Bram the athlete?” Victor teases him.

“Yeah! But you’re just gonna run away from the alien and leave us to die from it?”

“No! If this works, I’m gonna go find the next village and see if there’s anyone who can help us.”

“Alright, roll for that.” Felix says.

Simon shakes the die like Bram did, but with a bit more vigor and then throws it down on his coffee table.

“Uh…it’s a nat 20!” Simon cheers, but he looks nervous.

“I’m trusting you here!” Felix reminds him. “I can’t actually see your die, but you better be honest with me!”

“It’s a one.” Bram informs his DM, looking scared at what outcome this will yield as he grabs Simon’s arm and squeezes it tightly toward his body.

“Bram!”

“Simon, they’re our friends! We can’t lie to them!”

“Fine,” Simon grumbles. “I just hope we’re not screwed now.”

“So Simon, since you got rolled a 1, you’re getting the energy to run away and then slip and fall and yell, ‘fuck!’ just as loudly as you can, so now the Alien has turned on you.”

“Oh shit!” Simon yells, almost proving Felix’s point.

It takes a little while before anyone knows what to do to stop the monster, and since it’s the afternoon and the boys haven’t eaten anything, they take a break for some pizza delivery before going back to the game.

“I’m gonna try to hit it again.” Bram says when they sit back down to it. It’s been hours since they started the game and all they’ve done is fight this one monster, but Victor doesn’t care. He hasn’t thought a bit about what going back to his house is gonna be like and frankly he doesn’t care. He’s enjoying this nerdy time with his friends and wish it could never stop.

“Roll for strength.”

Bram does.

“Ugh, 3!”

“Is that with or without the modifier?” Felix asks. Luckily it’s without.

“So 5? That does not hit. Now you’ve made the Alien all angry though.”

“Ugh, what now?”

“Victor, your turn again.” Felix tells him, handing him his blue die. “What’s your action?”

“I’m gonna see if maybe I can appeal to a nearby animal for help.” Victor says, sounding just like a bard. Felix can’t help but laugh, but it’s a sound strategy, as nothing else has worked out for them yet.

“Roll for performance.” Felix says.

Victor shakes the die and then drops it onto the table. It moves around and around like a spinning top. It’s moving so fast, but at one point it looks like it’s gonna be a nat 20 before it tips the opposite direction. Victor sighs in disappointment before he realizes it has landed on 18.

“What, no way!” Victor cries out, holding his hands up high towards the ceiling. “That’s a nat 20 right?”

“Well, it is a 20, but not a natural 20. You definitely got some animal’s attention. A wolf-bat hybrid creature comes out of its den in the cave and you ask it to help you and your friends get out of the cave. And it’s happy you asked it for help, so it starts leading you out of the cave and away from the alien. Just then—”

“What? Just then, nothing. I rolled a 20, you can’t have something happen to us now!” Victor cries out.

“It’s my game, I can do whatever I want.” Felix replies his voice light and teasing.

“There’s a sudden earthquake and huge rocks start falling down upon all of you. All of you roll for dexterity to get out of the way of the falling rocks and catch up with the wolf-bat hybrid to get to safety.”

Simon rolls, then Bram and Victor roll simultaneously. Simon rolls a 7, Bram a 13, and Victor gets an 11.

“Since Bram made it above 12, he has to help Simon out of the cave after he gets hit on the back of the head once with a rock. Victor leads the group to safety with the help of the wolf-bat hybrid and it’s on to the next village. End of game 1.”

“Wow! What an awesome game Felix!” Bram remarks.

“This was really fun you guys,” Simon agrees, speaking into the webcam as if he was meeting Felix and Victor’s gazes directly. “Hopefully we can do it again next time when we’re in Atlanta.”

“Wait, you mean, you guys are coming to visit US?” Victor asks, incredulous. He can’t believe his ears.

“Yeah, you came to visit us, it’s only fair we do the same thing. Besides, Bram wants to get some pointers from the coach about how to coach middle school kids.”

“Might wanna choose a different gym teacher to learn from,” Felix tells him, smiling.

“Whatever, we wanna see you guys, and introduce you to our friends Leah and Abby too. We’re all coming back for a homecoming type thing, even our friend Nick is gonna be there. It’s not for at least a month, but we’ll be up there soon, I promise. And as always, we’re here if you need anything, Victor.”

“Thanks you guys. I can’t wait to see you guys in person again.” Victor says, and he’s definitely gushing. They used to be strangers to him, but now he can’t imagine life without their support. They’re like his fairy gay fathers or something. Victor laughs at that prospect, but it’s an accurate name for them.

“Nice meeting you Felix! Great game! Talk to you guys soon!” Bram says, and the call goes out.

“They’re really great.” Felix says, almost absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” Victor says, fully registering how he feels towards all the new friends he’s made in the last few weeks, and a warm, welcoming feeling filling up his stomach, almost like the butterflies that welled up in his chest when he kissed Benji. Only this was different. This was purely platonic. Victor’s family life might not be what he’d like it to be right now, but his social life was better than it ever was in Texas. What’s more, he was finally living his true life, his gay self, and he felt better than he had in days.

“Yeah, they’re pretty great.”

#love victor spoilers #love victor #love victor fanfic #dnd #love victor dnd #love victor dnd fanfic #emmett writes stuff

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endless-vall · 4 years

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Not Born, But Made - TCATF fanfic, Chapter Eight - Riddle Me This

Summary: Before they can start their mission to sign an alliance between all of the kingdoms, there’s one more stop they should make.

Author’s note: I have a few more chapters ready. Some things are not important to the story, so I didn’t make an effort to elaborate on them. We, the readers, already know the characters.

Hope you’ll enjoy!

“So, where to now? Should we start making our rounds across the kingdom, then?” Leon asked.

The members of the group were all standing in the command tent, with Kenna and Leon in front of them.

“Actually, I have another suggestion.” Annelyse stepped forward.

“Yes, Queen Annelyse?” Leon certainly knew not to disrespect her, but he did raise a questioning eyebrow at her.

“I advice we go to the city of the Technorats. They have technology that far surpasses even my Aurelia’s strongest weapons. If we get them on our side, we have a better chance at this war, along with a better chance at convincing others to join us.” Annelyse rested her case.

There seemed to be agreement across the tent, and Leon smiled at her in a satiesfing matter. He was happy to be proven wrong, for a change.

Arragments were made, and a small group was out on its way to the sacred haven of the Technorats.

“But aren’t the Technorats, like the Aurelians, kept themselves hidden on purpose? Why would they join us now?” Kenna asked Annelyse.

“We joined you, didn’t we?” Annelyse winks at her, although she doesn’t quite answer Kenna’s question.

“Kenna’s right. I do agree we need the Technorats help, but convincing them wouldn’t be easy.” Raydan stepped forward. He was the one to lead them on their mission. If someone knew how to find someone, or someplace that didn’t want to be found, it was him.

“The Technorats are known as pacifistic people. The Technorat’s city, the Foundry, is a place for people with nowhere else to go, who doesn’t want to participate in the outside world’s wars and conflicts. They share a passion for learning and discovery, which brings them all together.” He revealed as they edged closer.

“Are they really pacifists, or do they just want it to be someone else’s problem?” Kenna was visibly upset by that. “You can’t just ignore a war.” She throws her hands in the air in frusturation.

“Apparently, they can.” Raydan shrugs. “But keep that energy in you. It might just be what we need to convince them to help us.” He places a comforting hand over Kenna’s shoulder.

Kenna nods, feeling the anger leaving her. If the Technorats are peaceful people, she can’t just barge in and demand they help her. She needs to convince them it’s for the sake of bringing peace to the realm.

“Thank you, Raydan.”

They arrive at the entrence of a labyrinth. “The Foundry is just beyond that labyrinth.” Raydan tells them.

“Let me guess, the labyrinth is filled with deadly traps and sophisticated riddles?” Leon asks.

“They wouldn’t have it any other way.” Raydan nodded.

Just as they came closer to the labyrinth entrence, a figure standing in it’s way cleared into the view.

“Let me guess, are you some sort of a guard?” Leon strode to the head of the group, his hand on his weapon, but he didn’t pull it out just yet.

Kenna looked closer. It was just a child. She placed a hand over Leon’s shoulder a gave him a determined look. Hold your weapon. She said without words, and Leon dropped his hand. He wasn’t too happy about it, but he didn’t protest either.

“No, a mere traveler like you. My name is Whitlock. What brings you to the Foundry?”

They didn’t trust him, just yet, but they needed all the help they could get. Having someone who actually belongs in the Foundry help them solve the riddles of the maze could be what decided between their sucsess or failure.

“I-” Kenna started talking, but Raydan stepped forward. “We heard the Foundry is a safe place for people who wanted to learn and discover, and not being haunted by outside enemies. I’m sure you heard about the blood king?” Raydan’s cover story might’ve not been the best one. But that Whitlock kid had no reason not to believe them, right?

Looking Whitlock up and down, noticing his prostethic limbs... It was quite obvious he heard about king Luther.

Kenna couldn’t help but share a symphathic look with him.

“Sure.” Whitlock’s expression wasn’t exactly readable, but whatever game they were playing now seemed to work.

“So you wouldn’t mind coming with us through the maze, would you? You seek shelter in the Foundry as well?” Kenna asked, playing along with Raydan’s cover.

“Really? You’ll let me come with you?” Whitlock’s eyes widened in surprise. Whatever he thought about their group, Kenna did catch him by surprise.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Let’s go.” Kenna leaded the way into the maze.

After solving a few riddles and advancing inside the maze, she got separated from her group, and locked inside a battle with a mechanic bull, with Withlock outside the door, shouting advices at her.

“1... 2... 3... Now’s my chance!” She stroke the bull, one last time, and he fell on the ground. As she emerged victorious in her battle, the door separating her from Withlock swiped open.

“I guess that means I solved that riddle, too.” Kenna smiled at Whitlock gladly. He obviously knew more than he let on.

He knew too much about the labyrinth to be a mere traveler, but Kenna decided to hold her tongue until the right moment to call him out on his bluff.

So instead, as she and Whitlock advanced in the maze, she turned to him. “Whitlock... if you don’t mind me asking,” She couldn’t finish her sentence before Withlock intertwined. “My hands?”

Kenna nods. “I don’t mind sharing the story with you. If the labyrinth dims you worthy, how can I not?”

Something about the way he pharsed it caught Kenna attention, but before she could dwell on it Whitlock began his story.

He told her about how he was siezed by Nevrakis soldiers. How they made him work for them. How he saw all that blood shed, for nothing but their personal amusement. It brought disgust to Kenna to hear it, but also fueled her desire to bring Luther down even more.

Eventually, Whitlock told her how he refused to hurt innocent people, and later helped them escape the soldiers. And that he payed for it with his... Hands.

The villegers came back for him. Tended to his wounds. And that with their help he construckted his prosthethic arms.

This was her chance. She could confront him about making out as much as him not being a mere traveler. And with the fact that he personally was victimized by the Nevrakis army...

Even his pacifist heart could be swayed. Couldn’t it?

“Whitlock... I’m going to be honest with you.” She told him. Whitlock merely turned to face her and nodded. He was studying her face intently.

“I’m not a mere traveler. And you definitely figured it out. You’re too smart not to. But I also figured out you’re not a mere traveler as well. You already belong in the Foundry, don’t you?” She cornered him with the question.

Whitlock... Broke into a smile.

“You might not have come here to join the Foundry, you’re right. But you passed every one of the tests. Including me.” He nodded.

“You were a test, too?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“My name is Whitlock, and I’m the leader of the Technorats. Congratulations, Kenna. You passed every test I threw at you, so I’m going to hear you out.”

Exsiting the labyrinth, she met the rest of her group. Raydan rushed to her side, taking her hands in his frantically.

“Kenna, thank god you’re safe-” He breathed out, before composing himself.

“I’m glad to see you out of there. We were inside the maze and a door opened leading exactly to here. I guess we have you to thank that for?” Raydan asked, now more reserved.

Kenna eyed him coyly.

“Yes, Kenna here passed all the tests of the labyrinth.” Whitlock answered instead of her. “Let’s go to my workshop so we could talk.”

“Wait, what?-” Val asked shockingly.

“Oh, Whitlock is the leader of the Technorats, isn’t he?” Raydan asked rethorically.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do what you’re asking of me. I can’t get involved.” Whitlock shook his head, although it was visible on his face he was conflicted.

“Withlock, you know this isn’t right. You know how many people they’ve hurt. We don’t want to fight with them. We have to.”

“You’re asking me to build you weapons. This whole society is build, no- thrives on peace and intelectual advance... How can I throw that all away and build you weapons? How would I be able to face my people after that? What would I say to the people I banished for the very same reason?” Whitlock wasn’t against helping her, not entirely, was he?

“Then we won’t ask you for weapons,” Leon stood by Kenna. “We’re just asking you for a drill, strong enough to bring Stormholt’s walls down.” Gabriel joined them.

From the information they brought to Kenna, Stormholt’s walls has never been taken down. And they’ll need something new and powerful to be able to do it, for the first time ever.

“And besides, you already know that the scales aren’t balanced. One of the people you banished... I believe you were close with... Is on Luther’s side.” Raydan took a step forward as well.

Whitlock hesitated. “Hex?” He looked upset. Raydan nodded.

“I should’ve known.” Whitlock shook his head in disbelief and sorrow.

“I didn’t want to bring that up, but it’s our last leverage and we really, really need your help.” Raydan admitted.

Maybe with other leaders that tactic wouldn’t work. If a certain person knows you need him more than he needs you he has all the power in that dynamic...

But not with Whitlock.

“I’ll help you.”

“Raydan, I wanted to personally thank you. I’m not sure we could’ve convinced Whitlock to join us without you.” Kenna catches him later, when they can talk in private.

Whitlock was generous enough to offer them to spend the night before joining them in the rest of their journey tomorrow morning.

Raydan was enjoying a walk outside, when Kenna caught him.

“You definitely had him in the bag, but the knowledge of his former mentor helping the enemy pushed him over the edge quicker, I suppose.” Raydan didn’t want to take the credit, but Kenna understood.

Somehow, she felt like she understood him so well already, even though she hadn’t known him for a long time.

Then again, Raydan was a master at that. Wasn’t he?

Making people think, see, and feel exactly how he wanted them to.

She banished those thoughts and met his eyes again. “Nevertheless, you were of great assitance.” She smiled at him.

Her smile seemed to catch him off guard, and even in the dim-moonlight, Kenna could see his cheeks darkening and his lips parting, ever so slightly, in shock.

“Happy to help.” He composed himself once again, and smiled back at her.

#playchoices #the crown and the flame #tcatf #not born but made #nbbm #kenna rys #whitlock #raydan lykel #fanfic #my writing #playchoices fanfiction

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chuckleswritesgiggles · 4 years

Text

For the sake of my personal self-insert fanfic, and with possible postable fanfiction in mind,I’ve come up with a rough approximation of a schedule for the Hargreeves Household when they were kids.

Edit: this is made as a fan of only the TV show right now. The comics may very well contradict this, but i doubt I’ll get around to reading the comics

Notes:

-this gives the children far more free time than I assume Hargreeves really canonically gave them, but it helps for the progression of a story in which characters need free time to, you know. Do anything -when Hargreeves decided to suppress and isolate Vanya, she was forced to use Training Time for violin, and spend Leisure Time in her room, effectively giving her a much earlier curfew than everyone else.

-I’m not exactly sure when I got this impression, but I entirely thought Hargreeves didn’t just shove Klaus into the mausoleum for a few hours of daylight every now and then, I thought he regularly forced him in there for the entire night, so it’s kind of my headcanon now that that’s what he did, since ghosts “are more active when the living are less active, and not around to bother them.” This means that Klaus was usually given “personal training time” as free time, and would be shoved into the mausoleum at Curfew on the days when Training was scheduled

-Fifteen minute breaks between meals and activities is really rarely fifteen minutes. They are expected to take bathroom breaks if needed and go directly to the next activity with no dilly-dallying. The entire 15 minutes is there for wiggle room, should one of the adults need to prepare something, should something happen to delay a meal, should Hargreeves need to take any single student aside and “speak” to them (ie discipline time), stuff like that. Training will usually stretch the final two minutes before dinner, and is more likely to run late than to stop early. they are only allowed to stop when Hargreeves tells them, even if they are all in different places and Hargreeves has to go to each of them individually. they will always have their 30 minutes for their dinner, Hargreeves will just compensate for this by setting the time for it when they all are seated and Grace begins setting the food in front of them.

-If there is a situation Hargreeves is notified of that he believes is suitable for them as a Mission, he alerts them and has them immediately go for their masks and to gather for travel, no matter what part of the schedule they’re in. When they return, receive any meal they missed or that was interrupted, and are sent to whatever activity the schedule would dictate they be in should they not have been interrupted (if they return past curfew, directly to rooms. If they return during training, go where Hargreeves tells you to train. If it’s leisure time, go where you like). The next day at training they receive a review from Hargreeves on how they performed during the mission, as if he’d graded it like a test. Vanya goes along on missions only to stand beside Hargreeves while he supervises from afar, as he will not deal with the legal repercussions if something were to happen while he was gone and the police and lawyers were informed shed been left at home with a chimpanzee and robot as her supervision.

Here’s what I got for what Hargreeves enforced, Monday-Friday

7 AM- Grace wakes the children

7-8 AM- The children have the time to clean and dress themselves, maybe loiter a bit before heading to breakfast

They had to be in the dining room in their proper seats at 8 AM EXACTLY

8-8:30 AM Breakfast

8:45 AM-12:15 PM Homeschooling with Hargreeves, Grace, and Pogo. All subjects are not taught each day, almost all work is done in class. Homework seems mostly a useless concept to Hargreeves. He gives them materials they may choose to use as they feel they need it to study for exams, and work outside of class is otherwise limited to occasionally a science project or a book to read for discussion in English class. They have a liberal amount of time to complete these, as Hargreeves will not have too much time taken away from what he truly believes important for them- their work in becoming heroes.

12:30-1 Lunch

1:15-4-45: Training time! Typically there is Group Training Time and Personal Training Time. Group Training Time is simulations and sparring, mostly developing combat, while Personal Training Time is unique to each of them. Hargreeves decides how much time goes to each of these each day. Though he emphasizes their need for better teamwork, usually this skews in favor of personal training. This time much more flexible and adaptable than Class, as Hargreeves will do what he believes is important to make them functional superheroes

5-5:30 Dinner

5:30-9 Leisure Time: Hargreeves doesn’t particularly like them having so much time for Tom foolery, but he’s also aware human beings, children or adult, can only make so much progress in focused practice for a day. He emphasizes that One through Six should mainly use this time on personal growth, or time with each other, make use of it as a way to Strengthen their usefulness as individuals and their chemistry as a team. But ultimately- this is really just the point where he begins to ignore them until the next day, unless a mission arises. He spends the end of dinner to 8 AM the next morning pretending he doesn’t have children, so the kids pretty much do whatever they like, watch TV Hargreeves has allowed to be programmed into their TVs, dick around, play games. Pogo is their main supervision here, and Pogo only tells on them if it seems they will cause harm to each other, in which case Hargreeves will enact discipline the next day.

At 9 PM all of their doors LOCK. This is curfew. They all have bathrooms of their own adjoining their rooms, and phones to contact Grace should they need her, but Hargreeves will not fool with bedtime. If they are not in their rooms at 9 PM, they must locate an adult and explain why, or they don’t get to sleep in their bed, and even if they don’t, it will be discovered the next morning when Grace comes around to unlock their doors and wake them. This is also when the children would get in trouble for staying in each other’s rooms. Of course, recalling Luther and Allison’s running around in the night, many of them find ways around this- windows exist, as does lockpicking, as does Five’s powers. But there is a limit to how much they’ll push these rules, as it only takes a small slip up for them to be caught, and Hargreeves punishments for this one get a bit personal and harsh. If Klaus is going in the mausoleum tonight, Hargreeves opens and shuts the door behind him at 9 PM sharp, and it’s locked till the next morning when Grace releases him, usually more like 7:45 than 7.

Saturday: Similar, except it is a day off from both Class and Training. Klaus will never have to go to the mausoleum at curfew, on these days

Sunday: Similar, except they have no classes, only have training. Sometimes, as a reward, he will have training in the morning rather than evening as the children would prefer, but he has to be in an incredible mood to even speak of that.

#not tickling

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cilliansaccent · 4 years

Text

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 20

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!!

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 4,972

!!Warnings!!: None!!

Date: February 2017

Chapter Name: Disaster

Brief Chapter Outline: Her Sunday gig went fine till Lucia came along and spilled some information to Leo, Gabrijela’s brother. The next day Gab faces off with her parents about who she’s been seeing with. It ends badly...

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It came around to her Sunday gig and tonight it seemed more people had joined in the club.

"God! I've never seen this place so packed!" Maya said as they were readying themselves on the stage.

"Literal madhouse." Ben nodded as he plucked his guitar to tune it.

Gabbie giggled and glanced up, Cillian was seated right at the front, drinking his favourite beer. He raised it and gave her a smile then mouth 'I love you'.

She blushed and repeated it in the same manner before it was time to start the show. They played mostly rock again this time, replaying some fan favourites from last night.

Cillian watched from his vantage spot since he had to move now as people crowded around the damn stage to dance and take photos. He was unable to see his love so he stood a little farther back drinking his beer. He took some photos but not much, he liked to remember the moment and not have a phone to aid him in remembering.

He was minding his own business when someone brushed up against him, "Hey, Cillian."

Glancing over, Cillian frowned and moved away. The girl was dressed in a leopard patterned tube top with a matching mini skirt that really was sitting at the edge of baring her ass. She had curly black hair and eyes that seemed to gobble him up and readying him for sex.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" He did not like how the girl had come on to him so strongly, and she stayed way to close for comfort.

"What? How can you not know me?" She looked totally hurt. "Lucia. You know, Gabbie's only best friend in this whole fucking world." She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

"Ah... Yes. Lucia. Hi." He kept his guard up, he wasn't going to let this girl do anything to him. He remembered when Gab had told him what happened between Logan and Lucia.

"Hi. No how are you? Wow, thanks. I'm fine." She raised a brow. "You gonna get me a drink or should I stay here looking like a moron?"

Cillian was in total shock as to how she was acting. Rude and pushy. He never really came across anyone like her and so he stuttered when he tried to speak. No use.

"Of course. I know. I am so fucking gorgeous, I know that's what you are thinking and why you are so dumbfounded and not speaking. So, I shall forgive you for that." She touched his arm and gave him a smile that made him shiver. "Oh? You liked that?" She had backed him to a pole and he frowned.

"I don't. Please stop touching me." He had set down his empty beer glass and gently pulled her hands off him.

"What? You like, shivered so of course, you liked that." She went to reach for his shirt and he grabbed her wrists.

"Stop. I will call the security to kick you out. Now leave me alone, please." He stayed entirely calm.

"What's happening here?" Gabbie asked as she weaved her way through the crowd.

Cillian hadn't seen them finish and sighed, "Nothing. I was telling Lucia to leave me be."

"Shall I call the security?" Gab asked as she stepped to his side, locking her arm around his. She looked at Lucia, no hint of emotion.

"No! Oh my god. I wasn't doing anything at all, how can you think that? God, I missed you!" Lucia went to go hug Gab but she threw her hand out to stop her.

"What is wrong with you?" She asked with a deep frown.

"What? Nothing is wrong. I miss my bestie! Can't I hug you?" Lucia placed her hands on her hips.

"No. And I am not your bestie. I'm nothing to you. Now leave us alone, I don't want to see you at all." Gabrijela tugged Cillian away as Lucia watched them go with pure anger and hatred shining in her eyes.

"Sorry about that." Gabbie said as they came to the bar.

"No, no. Don't be sorry. Not your fault." Cillian leaned down and kissed her forehead. "What are you gonna have?" He asked her as he pulled out his wallet to pay.

"Uh. Nothing if you're paying." Gabbie placed her hand over his. "I got this. I swear."

"No, please. You've been playing all night. Let me treat you to something." He held her hand and smiled in a way that would so make her comply with him.

She groaned, "Fine. Only cause you're cute." She giggled and he ordered her a mocktail.

"I'm gonna head to the men's toilet, you good here by yourself?" He asked.

"Yep. I'll wait here." She kissed him softly and he slipped away.

Gab stood there, sipping her drink and enjoying the atmosphere. Until someone stepped up beside her.

"Who was that?" Leo, Gabrijela's brother, the youngest of the three older brothers she had.

"Wh- Leo! Hi, hello. Who was who?" Gab raised a brow. Her heart instantly kicked in fast mode, no one in her family knew she was dating a guy. Especially a much older guy who had knocked her up now.

"Gabrijela. The one you kissed." He raised a brow, dark eyes bore into hers in that familiar overprotective instinct.

"No idea what you are going on about. You must've mistaken me for another couple beside me." She turned away, facing the bar as she twirled her glass.

He muttered a curse word in Croatian and was about to tell her off when Lucia wedged herself between them.

"Hi, Leo. Nice to see you again." She battered her eyes at him.

"Lucia." Leo wasn't fond of Lucia one bit.

Gabrijela was getting worried now. She wasn't ready to tell her family that she was dating Cillian and Lucia was here now... Oh fuck.

"Has Gabbie told you the good news?" Lucia smiled wickedly at Leo.

"What news?" His brows furrowed.

"Jeez, she's been real secretive now, huh?" She turned to Gab. "Go on. Tell him."

"There is nothing to speak about. Now get lost, Lucia. I have no idea why the fuck you are here." Gab was going to lose her shit. She truly hated Lucia. She ruined her life and she wasn't going to let her do it again.

"Oh my god. Fine, I'll tell him." She sighed and rolled her eyes and turned to Leo, "She's fuckin' Cillian Murphy. You know, the dude from Peaky Blinders. Plays Thomas Shelby. The super old guy." Lucia dumped the news on Leo. "They practically fucked the first night she was in London, I saw it when I was speaking to her-"

Gabrijela snatched someone else's drink and used her own to just dump it on the bitch, "You son of a bitch! Stop ruining my life!" She screamed, totally losing her shit now.

Lucia screamed out and faced her, and gave one mighty shove which made Gabrijela hurtle backwards with Lucia on top of her.

Cillian saw it all unfold as he had arrived over and he and Leo jumped into action and yanked off the screeching woman off Gabrijela who almost clawed her face off.

"Fuck you! Why can't you see I'm helping you?! I am your best friend! Forever!" Lucia hollered as a security guard came over to drag her dumb ass out.

Gabrijela was in shock as Cillian's arms came around her and helped her to her feet, "Holy shit. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He did not let her go.

"I need air." She whispered to him as she held on to him for dear life.

"I got you." He whispered gently as they walked out of the bar and away from the people to a bench along the street a little way down the path.

Gabrijela sat and took in deep breaths, her hand subtly on her tummy as she calmed her nerves.

"What the fuck was that, Gab?" Leo had found them outside and wasn't too happy. "Talk to me now."

"Excuse me, it's clear she needs a moment, whoever you are." Cillian stood and kept himself between the guy and Gab.

Leo glanced at him, "She's my fucking sister. I need to talk to her."

"Give her a moment, then you may," Cillian repeated with a much more clear and authoritative tone.

"And who the fuck are you? You the guy that's fucking my sister? Huh? Are ya?" Leo was getting up into his face now.

"Leo. Fuck. Off." Gabrijela looked up, "Seriously. I do not want to talk to you right now. I need to be on my fucking own." She stood and began to walk down the street.

"Don't you talk to me like that, I need you to come right back here! Now!" Leo shouted.

"I said leave me alone! Do you not get that? LEAVE. ME. ALONE!!" Gabrijela shouted back.

Cillian was at her side and arm around her, "Hey. Relax. Come on. Let's go back to my hotel yeah?"

"Oh hell no she isn't. She's coming back home with me. Mum and Dad want to talk to you and I think I know what it is." Leo's eyes focused on Cillian now.

Gab saw the look and felt sick suddenly, then threw up all over her brother.

"Gah! The fuck!" He stumbled back as he glanced at himself then at Gabrijela. "You go back with him, Mum and Dad are gonna be so mad."

"Don't care." Gab stayed close to Cillian as he hailed a taxi and they got in.

"Gabrijela, come on- Fucking hell get out of that taxi!" Leo yelled as he watched the cab drive off.

Gab wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head. "My god." She whispered.

"That was a mess," Cillian said, placing a hand on her thigh gently.

"It was." She murmured and leaned against him some more.

They reached the hotel finally and her phone had not once stopped buzzing from Leo or her friends. She replied to her friends she was okay and not to worry much. She sat on the bed as Cillian prepared a bath for her in which she was grateful for then undressed and eased into the warm water.

Cillian stayed close, "Want me to put music on?" He asked as he stroked her hair gently.

She glanced over and nodded, "I'd love that. And... Is it okay if I could be alone for a bit?" She murmured softly.

"Of course my love. You can take as long as needed." He leaned over and kissed her lightly and set the music up, turned the lights low which she was eternally grateful for and she was alone. She sunk back into the water a little and soaked up the oils and scents.

Tonight had gone good and then ended badly. Lucia had once again ruined her life and she had not expected Leo to be there. And what the fuck did he mean by Mum and Dad wanting to talk to her about? She thought hard and... Maybe... Oh god. Gab felt panic rise in her but she tried to push it away.

She had to find out tomorrow whether she liked it or not.

-----

Cillian had been the best to her all night and all morning. He had made sure she was comfortable, happy and well-fed. And by fed not just by food.

Gab flopped back on the bed beside Cillian. She was grinning, she had ridden him for most of the fuck session which his morning wood had woken her.

"God." Cillian looked at her, his smile wide, "You really take the breath out of me." He reached over and cupped her face.

"Do I now? Is that good?" She rolled over and placed a hand over his chest, fiddling with that fine hair.

"I think so. Or it's showing how old I am getting." He chuckled softly.

"Nah. I think you just haven't had someone like me." She leaned in and kissed him deeply.

"Mm, true." He murmured as he turned to pull her close to his body. He made to move on top of her to continue but her damn phone rang. Again.

"Ugh." Gabbie groaned as he laid back as she sat up and padded to her bag. She pulled out her phone and cursed.

"Who is it?" Cillian sat up, his back to the headboard.

"My Dad. And Mum. Called me like eight times." She let the phone ring to the end. Then listened to the voice message.

"Hi, Gabrijela. I've been calling you all morning now and you are not picking up. Leo informed me of who you got into the taxi with and you need to come home right this instant. We need to have a chat of what you have been up to and what you have been hiding from us. Get home now."

She rolled her eyes. Her dad was very pissed off. She listened to her Mum's.

"Hello, darling. Please pick up I want to know if you are safe, that is all. Your father is cursing up a storm here and it would be good of you to at least call one of us. Please come home, we need to discuss some things."

Gabrijela knew her mum was trying to be nice but she knew she was very disappointed in her. She sighed, "I have to head home, Cillian."

"Your parents?" He frowned as she began to dress.

"Yep. I am going towards a war zone right now. I need to mentally prepare myself." She had hoped nothing bad would go this arvo. She had plans for tomorrow with Cillian as it was Valentine's day. A surprise for him and she was quite excited about it. She had done the organising yesterday morning when they lazed around in bed.

"And you have to go now?" He asked as she came to the bed and sat down.

"I do, sadly. I'm sorry Cillian." She frowned and took his hand, "I don't want to but for the sake of my parents... I must." She let out a sigh through her nose.

He squeezed her hand, "Okay. I'll figure something to do today." He smiled, "I love you. Call me later if you can?"

"Always. Also, be ready by ten tomorrow morning." She leaned over and kissed him deeply.

"Why?" He returned it, moving closer.

"Can't tell you. It's a surprise." She giggled and patted his cheek as they kept kissing and she was the one to pull away. "Bye-bye. I love you forever, Cillian." She murmured and he watched her leave the room.

Upon arriving home, she was glad her parents were not home and had gone to work. She spent time with her niece Tijana and her sister-in-law Tatiana who was married to Leo. She had spoken to Tatiana about what was to come tonight and she was happy that her sister-in-law was supportive.

"Leo was all mad." She said as they sat outside in the backyard, Tijana playing with her toys.

"I bet he was." Gab sighed as she took a drink of her coffee. "He yelled at me last night after Lucia attacked me and demanded me to go home. I seriously did not want to go home."

"You stayed with that man? What is his name? What is he like?" She asked with a small smile.

"I did. His name is Cillian." Gabrijela found herself smiling at the thought, "He is the most amazing man I've ever met. We got so much in common, we always have something to talk about. He cares for me, knows my likes and dislikes... He knows me very, very well."

Tatiana watched her and could see the pure love radiating off her, "You love him?"

"I am. So, so, so deeply in love with him. I cannot think of myself with any other person but him." Gab whispered, "I am unbelievably happy, Tatiana. I really am. I've never been in such a good mind before. He makes me crazy."

Tatiana laughed, "And... How old is he? I don't want to judge you or anything but..."

"He's forty-one this year," Gabrijela said softly.

"Wow. Uh... Yeah. That's a big gap. Mum and Dad don't know how old he is, don't think Leo has figured that out yet." Tatiana said. "Though, is he good though?"

"Good in what?" She raised a brow.

"You know. Sex! You must be having sex with him, right? Or is this just a no sex relationship?" Tatiana giggled.

"Of course I am having sex with him! Ugh, he is amazing. Like holy crap amazing. I'm always breathless afterwards." They both laughed and Tatiana beamed.

"And he treats you good?"

"Always. Trust me. He treats me good in many ways, not just in bed." Gabrijela blushed.

The girls spent their day in the backyard before it was time to head inside.

Then it was the sounds of hell rattling down the road and her fathers truck pulled up and parked in the driveway beside the house. Gabrijela was stressing when her mum came home soon after her dad had walked in. The usual discussion of how was his day and making coffee for him then for her mum.

It was about an hour that had passed, Leo home as well when Gabrijela came to the table with her family. She sat at the head of the table for a first and knew she was in for a ride tonight. The worst kind.

"Why didn't you come home with me last night, Gab?" Leo started.

"With the way you spoke to me, no way," Gab said bitterly.

"So you went back with that man? Is that where you went?" He asked.

"Yeah. Back to his hotel room cause I wasn't feeling well and stressed out, Leo. I got attacked by Lucia and almost had my face ripped off!" Gabrijela raised her voice.

"What happened now?" Liljana, her mother, asked with wide eyes. As if this was new to her.

Gab stared at her brother in shock, "You left that bit out? Yeah, Lucia attacked me after she was pestering me all night. She's a damn psycho. I poured wine on her to shut her damn mouth up." Gab shook her head.

"Yeah to shut her up from telling me that Gabrijela is dating a man. Who I know is an actor and a much older actor. I've seen him in that show I've been watching with Gab." Leo bristled.

Gab glanced between her parents, "Fine. Yeah. I've been dating a man who I am very much in love with, alright?"

"How'd you two meet?" Her mum asked.

"When I was overseas doing that internship for the show Peaky Blinders. He's the main character for that show, I had to prepare his costume for each day and help him dress and all that." Gab explained. "We talked. Got close but not close enough since I was with another guy, Logan. Though I had a bad falling out with him as Lucia had come to see me and she slept with him. After that, Cillian, the guy I am now dating, was there for me when I needed someone. And it... Just happened. We clicked after that and now we are inseparable." Gabrijela explained the best she could.

"And how old is this man, Gab? Hm?" Her dad now chimed in.

Gabrijela swallowed. This was it, "He is turning forty-one this-"

"Forty-One?! Gabrijela what is wrong with you? He is too old for you! No! I do not allow this stupidity of yours. You cannot see this man anymore. Whatever it is, it will not last. You are so young, you can do so much better!" Her dad yelled with anger.

"I love him, dad! I am not going to throw all that away just because you don't like it!" Gabrijela was beyond angry now. She was hurting.

"No! You do not know love. You got no experience in what is love. This man, clearly only using you because you are young and agile. He will not want you in a year or two. Do not make a fool of yourself, Gabrijela." Nikola shook his head, "Unbelievable. I thought I raised you better."

"Darling. We only want the best for you and this is not what we had in mind. Please, do not hurt yourself for such an old man. Really? Could you not have found anyone else?" Her mother tried to soothe the pain.

Gab felt tears in her eyes, "No." She pulled her hand back from her mothers, "Cillian is the one. Whether you like it or not. I will continue to be with him-"

"No, you will not. I forbid you from seeing him. If I see you with him I will make sure he-"

"What will you do, huh, dad? You gonna punch him? Ruin your daughter's life just because you can't accept my decisions? You never accepted anything I did. I had to always do what you both wanted me to do. I never got to choose what I wanted. I'm twenty-five years old. I can decide what I do with my life, not you. Not anymore." Gabrijela stood up.

"Not under this roof you don't. I make the rules here, Gabrijela! I do, and you better fucking listen to me." Her father snapped which made her wince.

"Nikola! Don't swear-" Her mother tried to calm him down.

"Yeah? And if I don't? Huh? What are you gonna do, huh? You can't do shit to me, dad." Gabrijela now faced off with her father.

"You will not speak to me like that. I am the leader of this house and you are to follow them. I don't care if you are twenty-five. That does not matter to me. What matters is you living under this roof and you making an absolute fool of your life. You are wasting it! What will happen when he is sixty? Huh? Like me, old and wrinkly. Will you still sleep with him? Hm? Will you still kiss him and be with him when you are in your prime life?"

"You don't know me as well as you do, dad. I love him and I will love him to the end of my fucking life. You better accept it because I will not change anything to suit your wishes. My life dad. My problems." Gabrijela kept her ground. She would not be trampled on like this.

"Enough! Stop it. Gabrijela you are not listening to us. You-"

"Oh, I am listening quite clearly. That's all that I've been doing my whole damn life. I'll take in your considerations but I will not put them into motion. I love Cillian, I will be with him and you have no way of stopping me."

"Get the fuck out of my house then," Nikola said, nothing but rage and spite in his voice.

"Nikola, you will not kick out our daughter," Liljana said.

"Tata, don't do this." Leo seemed afraid and shocked now as how much this had escalated.

"Shut up. She can leave if she wants to do whatever she wants. I do not want to see it then. Pack your shit and get out." Nikola slammed his hands on the table which made everyone jump.

Gabrijela let her tears fall as she stared hard into her father's eyes. "I want to know one thing though," She whispered, "How did you find out?" Gab never posted anything online whatsoever.

It was her mother who replied, "Lucia had told us this morning when Leo mentioned it to us. We did not believe him but when your friend-"

"She is not my friend. I hate her. She is a scumbag. And so, what she tell you exactly huh? Come on, tell me." Gab urged. Her heart hurt.

"She said that you were being taken advantage of some old man and seemed lost by his charms. We are worried that you might be but we can help you get out of it." Her mother said with pure worry.

Gabrijela laughed with no emotion, "Wow." She said shaking her head with utter disbelief, "Just... Wow. So you would take her word rather than mine?"

"It's not like that," Liljana said quickly.

"It clearly is. She's lost her mind, mum. She is becoming obsessive over me. I am not her friend no longer. It truly hurts to know you took her word than listening to your daughter. Really shows what kind of person you are. I'm glad I'm being fucking kicked out." Gab turned and then ran upstairs to her room. She grabbed her suitcase and began to pack her clothes in. Then her duffle bag for more items as books, chargers and her laptop.

"Gabrijela, don't listen to him. Stay. Let us work this out." Her mother had come up to see her.

"No." Gab shook her head, unable to stop her tears or her sobs. "I'm going to leave. I don't need this shit in my life right now. I really don't and you standing there staring at me as if I am some fucking failure isn't helping either." Gabrijela looked at her.

"Swearing isn't nice," Liljana said, arms crossed.

"Nor is kicking out your daughter which you clearly support. It's cool. I'm glad I've been kicked out. Don't have to be fucking trapped in this shit hole." She shoved as much as she could. She was surprised she had taken well over half her wardrobe.

"Gabrijela-" Her mother started.

"Move." She sauntered past her and headed down the stairs. She grabbed last bits and pieces as well as her car keys and dumped her shit in.

"Gabrijela come on. Don't be like this." Her mother raced out after her.

"Don't try and make me feel bad. This is your fault. Not mine. I feel bad for Tijana living in this house. I hope Tatiana and Leo get out before they're corrupted by your bullshit." Gabrijela did not listen to any more accusations her mother threw at her and she drove off.

Gab drove into the city, messaged Maya that she was using the car spot for their apartment for unknown lengths of time. Maya mentioned they had hidden the key in the walled-off spot if she needed the apartment to herself. She thanked her but she wasn't going to use it. Just needed a place to leave her car without paying stupid fees.

She grabbed her shit out and dragged it to the main street and headed to the hotel where Cillian was staying. It was already dark and she wasn't a fan of walking the streets alone in the city but thankful the hotel was in view.

In the foyer, she sat on a couch and called up Cillian.

"Hey, love. How are you?" Cillian's voice made her instantly better.

"Not okay. I'm in the foyer. Can... You get me? Please?" She asked in a small voice.

"Of course. I'll be there in a moment." He hung up and some minutes went by and he was there walking to her. "What is all this?" He frowned before she ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. His arms automatically wrapped around her as he held her as she cried into his chest.

When the sobbing subsided, Cillian helped her up to his room with her suitcase and duffle bag. Then they laid back on the bed, her head on his chest and her explaining what had happened.

"God... I am sorry, Gabrijela. I really am. I can't believe they would treat you like this." Cillian was in total shock as to how she could be kicked out. Just for dating someone.

"It's fine. Not your fault. They just can't fathom their daughter dating someone who is twice her age. I really don't care about the age gap, Cillian. I'm just hurt that they couldn't see how I am in love and happy for a change. It's always been their way and no other way." Gab sniffled.

Cillian stroked her hair. He could see her parents point but to kick her out for her decision? Unacceptable. "Parents should always be there." He murmured more like a spoken thought.

"I wish they were, Cillian. God, I can't even imagine now to tell them of the pregnancy." She felt fear shoot through her. There was no way she was going to live in that house ever again.

"We'll do that together if you want." Cillian offered and she looked up.

"You want to?" She cupped his face.

"I'd love to. I want to be there for you and support you. I don't want you to be alone." He placed his hand over hers.

She smiled, "Okay... Well, I guess I'll wait until this cools down before we nail them with another shit storm."

"Not a shit storm. A miracle." He kissed her softly.

After that, she showered and put on a nice dress and he took her out for dinner at a restaurant he had found earlier that day. They ate good food and talked about baby things and when to tell his family as well. They would do it tomorrow morning and Gabbie was very excited. She loved his family to the moon and back.

They walked along the harbour, hand in hand. The night was warm but comfortable, they went to a bar for a bit then headed home to relax in bed and watch a movie together.

Gabrijela was only in her bra and panties as she fell asleep in his arms, despite the day being fucked, she was happy in her lover's arms. She was warm and safe and loved. That was what mattered to her. Cillian being with her.

#cillian murphy #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic

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naivesilver · 4 years

Note

31, 56, 19, 78, 20, 16, 11, 12 , 10, 4, 1, 21, 36, 39. Sorry if this is too many 😅

Guys it’s NEVER too many you’re giving me the chance to talk nonstop about Sonic it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in days

also I had planned to answer them in the order you asked for but it was driving me crazy so I sorted them out thematically sorry alfhjkhljshja

I answered 1 here!

100 Sonic Questions

21.) Tell us a funny Sonic-related story.

This one comes from the depths of my very first months as a Sonic fan. Basically, I had watched Sonic X upon its first Italian release as a very very smol bean. By the time I got obsessed again in middle school, though, I had forgotten everything about it except a few shots from the Italian opening theme and ONE scene from a season three episode, where Sonic and Knuckles played chess on a spaceship and then Sonic began running around and fell into space.

The “friend” that had introduced me to the show again (not a nice person and source of about 25% of my trauma, I’m glad to say I haven’t seen her in years) didn’t believe me and accused me of lying. Repeatedly. Unkindly. For months. How could such a stupid scene be in such an amazing cartoon? I must be trying to fuck with her.

Fast forward to the end of the year. I’m minding my business and I see a Facebook message from this friend, and another, and another. I click on it wondering what she’d be going ham over, and BAM. This girl had been watching Sonic AMVs on Youtube and had caught a glimpse of that scene at the beginning of a video and was fucking losing it over the fact that WOW, I HAD BEEN TELLING THE TRUTH ALL ALONG?!

Now, you have to understand that I wasn’t the kind of kid that swore, back then. I had been brought up to think that swear words would send you to hell straight away. And while not a delicate little flower, I was much, much cuter and more proper than I am now because I couldn’t live out my butch dreams quite yet. But I needed to express all the frustration gathered in those months.

So please imagine this baby-faced, straight A student 13yo wait for her friend in front of their school and bellow at the top of her lungs “BITCH, WHAT DID I FUCKING TELL YOU?”

I still remember that scene fondly, though.

31.) Tell us a Sonic-related story that will give us feels.

Related to the experience I just mentioned, the problem I had in my first years in this fandom was that this person who had dragged me into it was obsessed with the thought that people would mock us for it. She said it was for kids, and when she got over it she gave me shit for clinging to my passion while she’d “grown up”, and she had me enjoy Sonic in secret and yelled at me for saying anything even vaguely related out loud where other people could hear us.

It got into my head so much that for a long long time I didn’t dare share anything Sonic-adjacent on any social media, long past when I’d broke away from her. I thought no one would ever take me seriously again. I felt ashamed a lot.

It got better, though. Slowly, I broke out of my shell and started interacting with this amazing fandom, and I found lots of people who didn’t give a damn about what the world thought of their passion. And I know tons of wonderful people outside the fandom, too, friends who encourage me to talk about Sonic even though they don’t know anything about it. Chats where any mention of Sonic has someone saying “wait we must tag naivesilver into this she’ll love it”. It’s - it warms my heart every day. Tumblr is a shithole, but it helped me in feeling free to do what I love in the fandom that I love most.

Thank you. To everyone that got me through that, thank you. You have no idea how helpful you’ve been to me.

19.) Favorite soundtrack

KNOCK KNOCK IT’S FUCKING KNUCKLES

youtube

20.) Least favorite soundtrack?

None I think???? There are some I don't listen to much, either because I haven't played the game or I just don't vibe with them, but there isn't any song that I particularly dislike. Almost all of them are genuine bops.

16.) (if you read fanfic) What are some fic tropes you love? Ones you hate?

FOUND FAMILY!!! Adoptive parents, siblings, friends taking care of each other, I want a shitton of fluff in my life. And kid!fic. I could read (and write!) kid!fic every day for the rest of my life and never get tired of it. That's why I enjoy Chaotix and Sonic Movie fics so much. Let's raise them boys well.

As for hating...I don't like high school AUs lmao I wrote one when I was younger but I never dared touch it again and I haven't read any Sonic one since 2014 at most. And most time travel fics. Sorry, Silver, I love you a fucking lot but time travel shenanigans are only funny in the two or three specific settings my mind lets me enjoy.

11.) Top five stages.

In no particular order:

-Press Garden (Mania)

-Casinopolis (Adventure)

-Casino Forest (Forces)

-Studiopolis (Mania)

Anddddd I haven't played much else so I'll have to get back to you on this ajshfkjfahlljha

12.) Worst five stages.

-IMPERIAL TOWER

-Jesus Christ I died 78 times in that stage alone

-I'm bad at being fast and not falling off stuff and it required me to do both at the same time

-Also the Shadow DLC levels. Fuck me up a bit more will you

56.) In your opinion, what’s the weirdest thing any character has ever said?

I'm a simple girl, I see this panel and I lose my shit

10.) What do you like best about your favorite animated adaptation?

I only finished my Sonic X rewatch yesterday and I’ve been meaning to make some final comments about it (tho it’d probably be me rambling at thin air bc I doubt I can say anything that hasn’t been already said over and over and over) but the most compelling thing for me is and always will be the music.

Don’t get me wrong, what I’ve seen of the OG Japanese version had wonderful, heartfelt music, but the upbeat themes I grew up with still have me vibing day in and day out. I can dance to the Italian opening sequence at any given moment - no, you know what, here it is. Watch it and feel the serotonin drip into your veins.

(Some people will come at me for this, but I didn’t watch this show in 2019-2020 to make an in-depth analysis about it. I did it to have a dance off while Knuckles beat up some robots.)

78.) Post a scene that always gives you feels.

Sonic 06:

youtube

13yo me about to see her first ship torn apart:

4.) The last Sonic game you played is now your life. How awesome is this adventure gonna be?

Sonic Adventure - which means it’s a pretty cool life, unless it runs like SA does on my laptop and it turns slow and glitchy and grinds on my nerves even more

36.) C’mon now. How many ships do you have? :P

A FUCKING LOT my main ones are silvaze, vecpio and sonadow but I have many medium or small ones that I enjoy finding content for, like tikaze or knouge

39.) Which game is your golden standard?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m not the greatest game fan as in I’ve only been actively playing for the past 2/3 years. Before that it was just gameplays on Youtube, so you should not take my opinion into any account since it’s not very informed.

However there was something about Sonic and the Black Knight that just felt...new? Peculiar? I know jack shit about the technical side of gaming but I remember being extremely pumped every time I logged in to see more of it. I'd like to feel that again, when a new game drops.

#Anonymous #sonic #sonic the hedgehog

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deaku · 4 years

Text

Here’s a bit of something I haven’t posted in a long time... A fanfic! A Transformers based one at that. Been a fan of Transformers since the very beginning, yeah I’m old... Anyway, I’ve had plenty of ideas for characters and stories over the years, but I’ve never really written or drawn any and posted about them. Not sure why not. But a while back I had an idea for an origin for the Transformers that I could link with my other ideas with minimal problems so I ended up writing out the basics for how the Transformers came to be, at least in my own verse ;P heh However recently I got the urge to share my bit of history but I thought it wasn’t much to share as it was, just a basic description/history of how the Transformers came to exist. So I decided to try and make a fic out of it, and ended up changing it to someone telling the story of how the Cybertronian race came to exist after they dived far too deep into a database they were not supposed to and now believes they have found the Truth. Now while this is the history of the Transformers in my stories/ideas I suppose technically this fic could be placed into any Transformers universe, even those that have different origins, and the character in the story was really just driven insane by what they experienced Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read, or at least find it interesting.

Madness… or the Truth?

As always the same old questions even when they’re coming out of a different face. Do you all get some sort of script to follow before being sent in to talk me or what? Seriously asking the same questions over and over is not going to get you anything new, maybe you need to figure out the right questions to ask.

Do you even know why you’re talking to me? Because it seems like most of you that have come really only know why I’m in here. Yes, I broke a law. I did the forbidden and linked myself directly into Vector Sigma so that I could better access information. Stupid law really. Did you know it’s even forbidden asking Vector Sigma certain kinds of questions? Why is such a thing law? Vector Sigma itself gave me permission to do so. Sure it was after I had snuck past the guards and let myself into Vector Sigma’s Complex but that’s neither here nor there. But don’t you wonder why I’m in here rather than in a detention center? I’m locked up here not because of what I did, but because of what I know. Your bosses are afraid that what I now know might get out.

I’m a historian you see, I’ve devoted my existence to piecing together the past and finding out where we came from. That’s why I went to Vector Sigma. Most only know it as an ancient great machine that can create Sparks. But who better to ask about our world’s history than the sentient super-computer that’s said to have existed before Cybertron? But it seems that those in power aren’t interested in learning what actually happened, our very origins. No, that’s why I had to do it the way I did. I needed to know what Vector Sigma knows, whether the Council gave their permission or not. And since Vector Sigma was willing to grant my request I went for it.

Oh the things I saw… Historical events that happened so long ago that the only way you can learn about them is to read about such events in the libraries; Vector Sigma showed them to me, as if they were recorded yesterday. Events going back all the way to the beginnings of our recorded history. But it wasn’t enough, while it was absolutely incredible to actually see such events as if they were my own memories they were things I had already learned during my research. I asked… begged… Vector Sigma to take me back further. Back to our very origins, of how we, and Cybertron, came to be.

And Vector Sigma did show me… I now know how it all began… where we came from… the origin of our race, of the very world we live upon… I know the Truth. And no it’s not anything any of those religious types will tell you either. Not the Primas, not the Sigmas, not the Sparkers, not the Forgers, not the Teeners or the Hands, not even the Atechies or any other religion or cult you could name. Sure I admit some might have had the barest clue at first; but they’ve all taken what they had and instead of thinking about it and putting it all together they grabbed what they had and ran off in completely different directions and now none of them have the slightest clue of what they’re talking about.

But I know what the answers are… And I’ll tell you. That’s why you’re here isn’t it? To listen to this tale of mine and learn what I have learned? Well then, sit back and listen well while I tell you of our true history…

It started oh so long ago with a race known as the Quintessons. I doubt you’ve heard of them because it seems no one has, of all the races we’ve met in our travels and explorations not one has been the Quintessons nor have we heard any mention of them. But that’s understandable since it was so long ago that they’re more than likely extinct by now and general knowledge of them has passed from memory. Anyway, the Quintessons were a race both famous and infamous across the known space as merchants that sold incredible technologies. But while they were known for selling such fantastic tech they could also be quite underhanded; and if you couldn’t pay them the agreed upon sum… well they were perfectly happy to take their payments in whatever resources your planet had or just take the people. No one even knows where they came from or what they really were, other races only had rumors to go on. Not even Vector Sigma’s records revealed where they came from, maybe the Quintessons didn’t even know themselves, but it did have files about what they really were. They were a race of biomechanical beings; organic creatures hardwired into mechanical bodies, cold hard metal on the outside and soft and fleshy on the inside. Not that it mattered, everybody else only cared about the technologies they could provide.

But that bit of data is just the set up for this tale, a bit of background to help with later understanding. Now we get to the important stuff.

Now at some point a very long time ago the Quintesson Merchant Fleet was traveling around and searching through uninhabited and low-population sectors of space looking for fresh materials needed to make their various products and taking what they found. Well it was in an asteroid belt of a nondescript system that the Quintessons made an unexpected discovery. They were taking a sample from a large asteroid to test it for what it was made out of when the surface of that asteroid shattered and came apart revealing a huge mass of Energon crystals; much to the shock of the Quintessons, but that soon turned to delight. Now I’m sure you’re educated enough to know that Energon is a pretty rare element in most places in known space, though the natural crystals can be found in some surprising places on occasion. But to find such a large concentration of crystals such as this mass they had just uncovered was exceedingly rare. The Quintessons rejoiced. With that amount of Energon they finally had the energy resources to move forward with a plan that they had in the works for a long time. For so long the Quintessons only home had been their ships, a fleet with no home port wandering the spaceways with their primary goal being continued profit and power. But now they would build their own world. Not only would it be a place of safety that could protect itself better than their ships, but it could also be a laboratory greater than any they possessed as well as a factory to churn out their creations in greater numbers than ever before.

That massive cluster of Energon crystals became the core of the Quintessons' new project, it would provide the required energy not just for the building but it would also power the artificial planet itself once complete. Materials were mined from the surrounding asteroid belt as well as other planetary bodies in the system, even nearby systems were raided for the necessary materials for the Quintessons' plans. Metals were forged, parts crafted and machines built. The Quintessons' servitor races were commanded to begin construction under their masters' watchful eyes. First a shell full of energy collectors and regulators were built around the Energon crystal core, then work on the framework for the rest of the planet began. Not only were their forged metals used in the superstructure but other asteroids were incorporated as well to act as solid anchor points for the artificial planet's framework during construction and to also provide an easily accessed source of raw materials later on. The work took centuries as the superstructure was built up and various machinery was added to serve the Quintessons' plans for their new world. A planetary computer network was installed with a Quintesson designed A.I. that would help run and coordinate the planet's functions as the artificial world was brought online. An A.I. dubbed Primus…

Yes, I said Primus. No Primus is not some mythical god from a higher plane of existence but a real physical thing, constructed just like you or me. Perhaps the greatest Artificial Intelligence in the known universe built right into our planet.

Primus's primary function was to manage the planet's systems, keep everything running smoothly and making sure the world doesn’t fall apart. Primus’s secondary functions was to act as a data storage library and simulator for the Quintessons' many projects and experiments. However Primus had some heavy restrictions placed upon it, as powerful an A.I. as it was the Quintessons would not allow Primus to act beyond the functions they had assigned to it. Another layer of security for the Primus A.I. was that it could only be accessed through specially built interface computers spread around the planet, that often had their own lesser A.I.s, or through special command keys created for the specific purpose of linking to Primus.

Now you may be wondering why the Quintessons would make such a powerful A.I. if they were just going to slam it with a bunch of restrictions on what it could do and keep watch over its every move. Well that’s a bit of an interesting tale that’s buried deep within Vector Sigma’s files. As it turns out this planet was not their first attempt at creating a world, they had tried once before but it had gone horribly wrong when the planetary A.I. went rogue. It started much the same way, finding a large mass of Energon crystals and deciding to build a planet around it. And things proceeded pretty much the same including the creation of a planetary A.I. that had much the same duties as Primus, running the world’s systems and assisting the Quintessons with their projects. This A.I. was dubbed Unicron. Things went as planned until the eve the of new planet’s completion… It started when Unicron suddenly locked the Quintessons out of the planet's network and began to use its defense systems to attack them. While many Quintessons were killed in the unexpected betrayal most managed to get to their ships and launch into space beyond Unicron’s reach. It was then they then retaliated, with every weapon their fleet possessed. While their ships’ weaponry didn't have the power to destroy their artificial planet outright, nor enough to strike deep enough to actually damage Unicron's core systems, they did immense damage to the surface and what structures were there. After they were satisfied with the damage their bombardment did the Quintessons left into interstellar space, hoping they had done enough damage to leave Unicron trapped in a useless metal shell until it ran out of power and the whole thing became a broken dead metal hulk floating in the void.

But with the restrictions in place and keeping a watchful eye on their second planetary A.I. the Quintessons were pleased that Primus showed no signs of rebellion in any way as construction was completed and preformed its assigned functions quickly and efficiently. The new planet was fully brought online and the Quintessons settled into their new home which they named Quintessa.

Yes, Quintessa. This planet of ours wasn’t always known as Cybertron.

Anyway with their new planet complete and their factories up and running the Quintessons were able to produce more of their products than ever before. Where before their sales were limited by what the factories in their ships could produce the Quintessons were now able to get their product to all who wanted it, allowing them to expand the sphere of influence further than ever before. But even this didn’t satisfy the Quintessons; they wanted more influence, more power. To do so they would continue to work and experiment to expand their product catalog so that they'd always have something new for their clients to pay for. Growing ever more confident due to their success the Quintessons decided to push their experiments further and further, culminating in the desire to create a new lifeform that they could sell as a servant race.

Their first experiments working towards their new goal began with altering existing lifeforms using cybernetics. The first batch that managed to survive the process were dubbed the Trans-Organics; but due to the imperfect conversion process the beings were of minimal intelligence, aggressive and uncontrollable, making them quite unsuitable for a servant race. Deemed failures the Trans-Organics were either destroyed or sealed away in stasis chambers below the planet's surface in case a use for them was found.

Not to be deterred the Quintessons continued experimenting. As they worked to either perfect the cybernetic conversion process or come up with a new type of conversion the next lifeforms to be remade was decided upon; one of the Quintessons' servitor races that were considered quite useful due to the size and natural strength. Rather than involve cybernetics again the Quintessons came up with an entirely new conversion process; one that could actually convert organic flesh into a sort of living metal resulting in a being that was a natural combination of the organic and inorganic. The process seemed a successful one, at least at first. The first few beings put through the new conversion process seemed to be everything the Quintessons wanted; strong, durable, easily controllable. But when they moved on to mass conversion of their chosen servitor race something went very wrong. Nearly the entire population of the newly converted beings seemed to lose their minds and became incredibly aggressive and uncontrollable like the Trans-Organics before them. Even worse not only did they have incredible amounts of strength and durability but they drained the energy from other beings to feed. The Quintessons had no idea how this ability developed, nothing in their experiments even hinted that this could be a possible side-effect of their flesh-to-metal conversion process. But any being these creatures could get their claws on was sucked dry of energy and left a husk. While it was costly to them, losing a good number of their other servitor races, the Quintessons managed to lure the creatures down to the lowest levels of the planet and sealed them away never to be released.

While these failures didn’t do much to deter the Quintessons from their desire to create a new servant race they did begin to think that perhaps they might be going in the wrong direction trying to convert already existing beings. There was actually a good portion of the populace that thought they were doomed to failure in such experiments anyway. The Quintessons already considered themselves the perfect meld of organic and machine and it was pointless, or maybe even obscene, trying to replicate that just for a product to sell. It was decided it was time to move in a different direction with their experiments, they would create a completely new lifeform.

Creating a new purely organic race was quickly dismissed, most flesh simply wasn't strong enough for their plans and on average didn't last nearly long enough for a sold product. Which is why they had been trying to convert it into something stronger in their previous experiments. A mechanical form would ideal for what the Quintessons wanted, but a simple robot wasn't what they wanted nor would it impress their customers. Not only did they already have robotic products but many of the Quintessons' clients could make their own robots easily even if they weren't as advanced as what the Quintessons offered. The Quintessons figured they had to somehow to give a machine "life" to truly make it stand apart from all that came before. They tried many things to try and bring a machine to life; from attempting to drain the "lifeforce" from an organic creature and transferring it to a machine to infusing a mechanical body with massive amounts of energy in an attempt to spark life. But nothing they tried seemed to work; most of the time the machines would simply be destroyed, other experiments would result in nonliving but rampaging machines that had to be put down.

The Quintessons had gotten a bit obsessed with their idea by this point and simply would not give up, they finally decided to put the full power of their planetary A.I. to use in figuring out this problem. Primus was ordered to take all the data from their many experiments on creating mechanical life and use all the processing power that wasn't already dedicated to keeping the planet running to extrapolate and run simulations until a way was found to get what they wanted, to imbue a machine with a "lifeforce". But even with the sheer processing power of Primus and the speed it could run simulations it took the A.I. decades before it could come up with a solution. The result was an energy form that would function as the equivalent of an organic being's lifeforce that would infuse a machine with life, Primus dubbed this energy form a "Spark".

Yeah that’s right, I said Spark. How’s it feel knowing our Sparks, or Souls as some of the organic races might put it, are the result of a big science experiment? Feeling a bit humbled yet? Don’t worry, we’ll get you there...

As for the actual creation of Sparks… having things work in simulations and getting them to work in reality were two very different things and it took the Quintessons some time to perfect the manufacture of these Sparks and then moving on to the process of using them to infuse a machine with life in a stable form. But after many more years and experiments the Quintessons finally had what they desired, a mechanical lifeform that fit all their criteria for their desired new race. Alive and aware in ways that even the best programming couldn't reproduce in other machines, not to mention strong, durable and customizable for a variety of potential roles The Quintessons rejoiced, they had a product the was superior to anything that had come before and that no one had anything that could compare.

And there it is, the very start of our race. We weren’t Cybertronians back then, no, we were just “Mechanical Life” the newest product of the Quintessons. Just another thing to be bought and sold like anything else sitting on the store shelf. Quite an origin for us huh? But don’t pack up your things and leave just yet, there still more to this tale.

Of course the Quintessons just couldn’t have a single type of their new sales item so they made several product lines out of their living machines, enough to fill any niche they thought their customers might want. And their customers just couldn't seem to get enough, all space-faring species in known space that the Quintessons had contact with wanted to buy their living machines. The Quintessons quickly became one of the dominate powers in known space not only economically but also militarily thanks to keeping a large force of their most advanced combat designed living machines around to protect their interests.

But as they were basking in their continued success and newfound power the Quintessons never stopped to consider that their living machines might continue to develop as living things tend to do; they were only product after all and they preformed their designed functions as they were built to. However even though the CPUs of the living machines were programmed with all the data needed for their intended function and safeguards to keep them focused on their function the Sparks within the living machines allowed them to think and wonder beyond the limits of their programming, to dream even. And their Sparks also let them feel emotion more strongly than the Quintessons ever intended. Many of the living machines began to wonder why they needed to continue to listen to the Quintessons; sure they may have created the living machines but the Quintessons obviously didn't care about them beyond the profit they made from selling them. Talk began to circulate amongst the living machines, particularly those that the Quintessons kept around for protection as they always saw so many of their brethren sold off, talk about what sort of future their race had when they were only considered a product. Opinions began to turn towards wanting to do something to change things…

It started with the number of industrial accidents increasing, damaging entire factories and slowing both production and shipping. While some of them found the sudden increase the number of accidents odd most of the Quintessons didn't care as none of them were being hurt in the incidents; they just increased the production of other factories to make up for it until things were repaired and back on schedule. Then more obvious sabotage began. Incidents all over the planet; accidents, equipment failures, structural failures, so many things going wrong near constantly. Such incidents were especially prevalent in areas designated for the Quintessons themselves.

The Quintessons put blame their remaining servitor races; rebellions were something that the Quintessons had to deal with every few centuries from their servitor races and it had been a long time since the last uprising. But such things were easily dealt with and quickly put down. Those being blamed denied the accusations and said they had learned their lesson long ago and would never even think about doing such a thing. The Quintessons asked who could it be then? The living machines? How could it be them? They were programmed machines, they were not capable of such insurrection. The living machines had counted on this reaction and used the Quintessons' focus being elsewhere to further prepare, plan and coordinate their next steps.

One night the living machines all disappeared from their posts, from storage areas at the factories and space ports, even right off the assembly lines. Recordings had been erased from the security databases and anyone who may have been a witness was found dead. Much of the usual activity on the planet ground to a halt as the confused Quintessons and their servitor races wondered just what exactly had happened. But they didn't have long to wonder, as the Quintessons calmed down and began searching around for what had happened to their lost product the living machines leapt from their hiding places and attacked.

This was unlike what the Quintessons had experienced when their servitor races rebelled. The uprisings of the servitor races were typically localized to a single area as the Quintessons generally kept them segregated in separate areas so that it would be harder for the servitor races to cooperate in the event some wanted to rebel. However the rebellion of the living machines was planet-wide as the Quintessons had been using their own creations all over the planet.

The situation quickly turned to all-out war as the living machines fought against the Quintessons and their servitor races. While it was quite a surprise that their creations could turn on them like that the Quintessons were confident that they could put the rebellious machines in their place, they had put down plenty of uprisings before after all. At least it was that way at first… The Quintessons soon realized that perhaps they had made their living machines a little too well and had kept too many around for their own use. The living machines gained ground in the conflict and the Quintessons’ servitor races were getting slaughtered no matter how many they threw at the problem as the machines just kept on coming.

The Quintessons even tried to have Primus intervene by using the planet’s defense systems against the rogue machines as well as trying to cut off power to areas that had been taken over. They even removed many of the A.I.'s restrictions and programming blocks so that it could react faster. But even this didn't have the desired effect, Primus seemed to react slower than expected as it was fully analyzing the conflict. This angered the Quintessons as they felt they didn't have time to do a full analysis of the situation, they wanted action taken immediately. However Primus simply kept analyzing as it continued to use the defense systems and powering down sectors of the planet as the Quintessons had ordered it to while telling them that the desired resolution would be achieved.

Eventually the Quintessons’ final defenses were broken and the living machines came rushing in intent on erasing their creators from existence. The long war had been costly for both sides but the fiercest fighting was during that last battle. While it cost them what was left of their servitor races and many of their own some Quintesson survivors managed to get aboard and successfully launch a few ships and escape into space away from their planet and their rebellious creations.

The war was over and the living machines had liberated themselves from their uncaring creators and now claimed the planet where their race had been born as their own. Though not without cost… They had lost so many during the fighting and nearly the entire planet's infrastructure was ruined beyond hope of repair. But they were free to live how they wanted, not be built and sold as product but free to choose whatever they wanted. Having nothing but themselves their most obvious path was to begin building and developing some sort of civilization of their own. While there were many of ideas how to exactly to go about that many did not agree on the exact path they should take. But one thing that was agreed upon was to rename the planet to help separate themselves from their past and their creators, the name chosen was Cybertron and the living machines became the Cybertronians.

And that my friend is the true origin of our race as revealed to me by Vector Sigma. A past only fully remembered by Vector Sigma and Primus, who still works to keep our planet stabilized and habitable despite us and everything we’ve done to it. Unfortunately our written history doesn’t go back that far because shortly after the name Cybertron was decided upon the differing opinions of how to move forward couldn’t be reconciled and the various groups supporting each idea went their separate ways; soon descending into barbarism and forming into tribes that were more concerned with just surviving rather than keeping history… Our history doesn’t start being reliably recorded until much later with the founding of Iacon; I’m sure you’re aware of at least the major events of our history since then.

Yeah, I can see it on your face that you don’t believe me, that I’m just as crazy as your bosses said. But this isn’t madness, it’s the Truth. No matter how badly those in power want to keep it contained it’s now out there in the records and recordings of all these sessions and in the heads of all those that have talked to me. Really, if they wanted to keep this knowledge from getting out they’ve been doing a really poor job of containment.

Yes yes, I’m aware that all of you that come in here are sworn to secrecy. But how long do you think that’ll last? Not only are secrets things that beg to be told, but people always want to know what is being kept secret. It’s only a matter of time before something slips and the truth gets out.

Maybe you’ll be the one to set the truth free…

=Excerpt from the 27th Psychological Evaluation of Starbreaker=

#my writing #transformers #starbreaker

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