#oh i guess the telling and not showing is even more for snipe maybe that's why I'm just going 'uh huh

[tbnrpotato]

Our Own Choices

Chapter 4

Separatist attack! After the destruction of the outpost on the Rishi moon, General Grievous and Asajj Ventress plan an attack on the planet Kamino, home of the cloning factories. Meanwhile, aboard a Jedi cruiser, Jedi knights Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi examine an intercepted message from General Grievous.

Rex comes into the barracks soon enough, and I'm showing Fives and Echo this new song on the holonet called "Toxic" from Boywithuke when Rex walks in. My helmet's sitting at the side, I trust Fives and Echo enough to not reveal my secret to the Kaminoans.

When Rex walks in, Fives and Echo stand at attention and I'm just leaning against the wall behind them.

"I'm guessing you have something to tell us?" I ask Rex.

"Mhm. Separatists are planning an attack on Kamino. We're going home."

And then Rex walks out of the room.

"Kamino?! This just got personal," Fives says, Echo agrees with him.

"I'm guessing I'm gonna be the only one out of you three looking at the bigger picture and not just personally," I roll my eyes. "As much as I hate that place, if it's destroyed, the production of more clones will be stopped, and we will definitely lose the war and all of us will die."

"Hey, you're not the only one looking at the bigger picture," Fives nudges me in the side.

Soon enough, we head out of the jedi cruiser with the other troopers, as usual I'm walking behind the rest, my helmet on.

So we take a stroll through Kamino, a place that I never wanted to go back to.

"Ah, look around Fives. Feels like yesterday we were here," Echo says as a group of younger clones pass us. "Heading to target practice."

"Heh, remember that?"

"Do I ever."

"Feels like yesterday I was here, heading to cleaning duty," I mutter under my breath.

And then in front of us I see 99, struggling with carrying a few guns, dropping a few on the floor. I run over and help him pick some up, he doesn't recognize me with the helmet on.

"Hey, 99!" Echo calls out.

Well, 99 can recognize them, but not me.

"Heh, you actually remembered us," Fives sounds slightly impressed.

"Oh, I remember all my brothers. Is Hevy here? Where's he?"

I don't even think he remembers me.

"Hevy's dead. Sacrificed himself on the Rishi outpost," I explain for Echo and Fives. I can talk about his death so casually now, I get over these kinds of things quite quickly.

"He saved our lives, but he gave up his own," Echo continues.

"Oh, uh, I see," 99 says, showing Echo and Fives some random medal thing that they probably got in the past.

"Hevy...gave you his medal?" Fives asks.

99 closes his eyes for a moment, before asking,"So, why have you returned to Kamino?"

"Wasn't my choice," I tell him. My helmet's still on, I can't take it off with all the Kaminoans and other troopers here.

"The Generals received word of an impending attack here," Fives explains.

"Well, how can I help?"

Fives and Echo give each other a look before nodding at each other, and they tell 99 the plan.

"So uh, 99, do you remember...me?" I ask.

"Not with your helmet on," 99 replies. "Why not you take it off? We're safe for now."

"Not safe for me. I have no interest in going back to cleaning duty."

"It's you...you're that female clone, aren't you? So...you're a soldier now?"

I nod. "Keep your voice down, we don't want others to hear that."

"Oh right, sorry," 99 whispers. "So are you gonna join those...yknow...group of different clones?"

"You mean the ipad kid, the one with dog shit for hair, the buff af one, and the old man?"

Fives and Echo hold in their laughter, but I can see it on their faces.

99 chuckles, "Yea, you ever thought about maybe joining them?"

I think for a moment, and as I'm about to reply, the lighting turns red, signaling an attack. I see other troopers running to the front, and Fives and Echo are called in by the commander, and I follow them.

We reach the dude that sent for Fives and Echo. 

"Sir, you sent for us?"

"It's a dangerous assignment, but I want you two up on the bridge in sniper positions."

"Yes sir, we're on it."

And then as Fives and Echo head up to the bridge, the dude stops me before I can run off with them. 

"Aren't you a bit young to be fighting?" he asks. "Get in there with the others."

"With all due respect sir, I can handle myself," I say. "Besides, someone's gotta cover Fives and Echo." Without waiting for a response, I run off to the bridge.

I can hear the blaster fire already starting, I don't look back, I just keep running.

I reach Fives and Echo, where they're dealing with some of the droids already. I narrowly miss a blaster bolt to the face, and take cover next to them.

"There's gotta be a better defensive position than this, this place is shitty to snipe from," I say as I start shooting at the droids down below.

I see 99 coming up behind us. "I...I brought you some ammo," he says, dropping the bag on his shoulder.

"Is there a better spot than this, a better defensive position we can take?" Fives asks.

"Droids! Behind us!" Echo shouts, and Fives pushes 99 to the ground to let him take cover.

I notice that there are grenades in the bag that 99 was carrying, which is now lying on the ground, so I take one of them from the bag and throw it at the droids.

The grenade explodes on contact, knocking all the droids down. 

"There's more," 99 says, pointing at where the smoke is clearing.

Echo, Fives and I point our blasters at that area, until I see some kids walking out. They look like 12 year olds, 2 years younger than me.

"Cadets, what're you doing here?" Echo asks.

"We got separated from our group," one of the kids says.

"Where were they taking you?"

"The barracks."

"Oh, I know the best way there," 99 says, and we all follow him as he half-runs to the barracks.

We reach the barracks and the kids sit down on the beds.

"What are we gonna do?" one of them asks.

Fives and Echo look down at the floor.

"A separatist victory means...death...for all of us," 99 says.

"Oh hell nah I have no interest in dying today," I lean against a wall.

"The cadet is right. What are we gonna do?" 99 asks.

"We fight."

I look to the side, and see commander Cody and Rex taking off their helmets.

"Ayyy Rex, what took you so long?" I ask when I see him. Rex rolls his eyes. 

The cadets stand up. "But our training's not finished."

Fives steps forward. "Look around. We're one and the same. Same heart, same blood. Your training is in your blood. And my blood's boiling for a fight."

"That's one of the most useful things you've said today," I nudge Fives in the side.

"This is our home. This is our war," Echo says.

"What about weapons?" one of the cadets asks.

"The armory," 99 suggests. "It's just a few corridors away, here in the barracks. I can retrieve all the firepower we need. So who wants to blast some droids?"

Rex, Cody, Fives, Echo and I give a downwards nod of respect to 99 and Rex, Cody and I head to the armory with 99.

"Here it is, everything we need is here," 99 says, he's panting a bit. 

Rex and Cody get some weapons and I get a few pistols, a few grenades, and just stuff them on my belt, running out of the room and passing a few to the cadets.

"What about you?" one of them asks as I hand them my second last pistol.

"I only need 1 pistol."

I hear one of the droids shooting at the door to the barracks, and as the door opens, we start shooting at them through the door. As the droids advance, we back up, finding whatever cover we can get behind boxes or the beds.

I hear some blaster bolts whizz past my shoulder, and I take cover with Fives and Echo, shooting at the droids. As they advance, we continue backing up, taking some more cover behind the boxes. Rex throws a grenade at the droids, which misses, and I can feel the force of the explosion from here.

"Cadets, now!" Rex shouts into the comlink and the cadets start shooting at the droids from the high ground where they were initially hidden from view. They manage to knock down quite a few droids, making it much easier.

Cody throws another grenade at the droids, and as the smoke clears, more droids start coming in.

I hear 99 get shot, and he's tryna make his way to the armory. I run towards the droids, strafing so that I avoid blaster fire, and I try to slice up the droids as fast as I can with my sword, and when Fives and Echo help me shoot down the last one, I look back and I see 99's body on the floor. It feels like someone tightened their grip on my stomach, and I run to 99, kneeling beside him as Echo holds him in his arms.

"We..." Cody sighs. "Lost a true soldier."

"He really was one of us."

I bite my lip under my helmet, I can feel the tears coming but I don't let them flow, so I just walk away and sit on one of the beds, looking away, softly singing under my helmet to distract myself from 99's body. ("Toxic" from Boywithuke my new fav song lmao)

Later, all of us start walking out to the outdoor platform, the battle has ended. I'm leaning against a wall, watching Echo and Fives do their thing. I still have the grenades clipped to my belt, I'm throwing my knife up in the air and catching it, just like I always do.

I see Rex motioning for me to come over with Echo and Fives, and we all stand at attention (I'm just following what Echo and Fives are doing, just because I have no idea what I'm supposed to do)

"You all really stepped up in the heat of battle," Cody says.

"We did what we had to do, sir," Echo says.

"What any clone would've done," Fives continues.

"All of you showed valor out there. Real courage. Reminds me of me, actually," Rex says.

"Don't flatter yourself, we all already know," I smirk under my helmet, Rex chuckles a bit, looking at me.

"Echo, Fives, Aris, you're officially being made ARC troopers," Cody says. Echo looks at Fives, and we're all kind of a bit in shock.

"I don't think the Separatists will be coming back anytime soon," Rex says. "But if they do, Kamino will be lucky to have clones like you defending it. Good job, men."

Rex and Cody salute and Fives and Echo does the same, so I just follow them.

As I walk away with Rex, he pats me on the back. "Good job ad'ika."

"Rex, I don't wanna be an ARC trooper," I say quietly.

"Why not?" Rex looks confused.

"Too many expectations. I'm not like Fives or Echo. I'm just a kid. And besides, I don't deserve this, 99 does."

"Kid, 99's-"

"Dead, yea I know, and I've accepted that, just don't make me an ARC trooper, okay?"

Rex sighs. "Okay, ad'ika."

I nod at him. "Thanks dad."

Rex chuckles a bit.

"Okay fine, you can call me that."

#the bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch tech #the bad batch wrecker #the clone wars #battle of kamino #99 #rip 99 #clone 99 #clones #clone troopers #clone wars #star wars clone wars #star wars clones #captain rex #the clone wars captain rex #fives #echo #ct 5555 #ct 1409 #ARC troopers #commander cody #female clone oc #female clone

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Arcade, Boone, and Raul As Yandere's

➼ Word Count » 0.5k ➼ Warnings » Manipulation, Mentions of Substance Abuse, Obsessive Behavior, General Yandere Themes ➼ Genre » Yandere, Whumpee/Whumper

Arcade isn't someone who would kill needlessly, instead, he'd try to slowly manipulate you into 'falling in love' with him with little things that'd influence you to see him as higher than others. It'd start off with snide comments about the people you surround yourself with, little pieces that might make you second guess who you've put your trust in. He'd also be condescending toward you. You're too dumb to wander the wasteland without him, so just let him make some of your decisions for you. Honestly, you should feel honored that he's even agreeing to help you out, there are plenty of others who require his assistance yet he's here with you. He's not above lying about you having a terminal illness to extort more control over you, although he is above infecting you with a sickness. The furthest he'd ever go would be making you addicted to a substance, whether that be drugs or alcohol.

"Oh, please, haven't you seen the way they talk? They'll ditch you the first chance they get and I'll be here when they do."

Boone is the most assertive out of the three and he's not subtle about how he feels, you'll immediately recognize when his obsession with you starts. He'll refuse to let you out of his sight and will try to scare you into compliance with threats of the Legion. He'll tell you his own detailed war stories just to shake you up. He also isn't gonna care about how you feel toward someone, if he sees them as a threat then he's gonna snipe them, even if it causes you to weep for days on end. You're his and therefore he'll decide what happens to you and who you hang out with. The sooner you understand that, the better.

"You leave and before you know it, the Legion'll grab you. You don't know them like I do, so if you want to live you'll listen."

Raul is very calm and very aware of how unhealthy his feelings are, although, he tries to justify them in his mind. As the old world disappears, so do old world norms, in that sense, maybe what he's feeling isn't so unhealthy considering your surroundings? It's all just a matter of perspective. He only does what he does for your benefit, it’s only natural to feel the way he does in a world so skewed. He won't try and convince you to think anything different, he'd more or less just stick around and ensure you don't get into trouble. Outwardly he'd more or less just seem like an overprotective dad but when your back is turned he's threatening people like there's no tomorrow. Just simple 'reminders' on what he'll do if they try something against you. You'd have to squint to see the change in personality, though, he's so careful about what shows and what doesn't.

“I dunno, boss, the guy was here then he wasn't. Come on now, what could I have done to make him feel threatened?”

#arcade #arcade fnv #fnv arcade #yandere arcade #yandere arcade fnv #yandere fnv #yandere fallout new vegas #fallout new vegas #fnv #craig boone #craig boone fnv #yandere craig boone #raul alfonso tejada #yandere raul fnv #raul fnv #fnv raul #yandere raul alfonso tejada #courier 6 #courier six #tw: yandere

[pocketramblr]

I can't believe I've been asking for months where Snipe was in the war arc and he finally shows up in a flashback interview just to say "ah ha whoops anyway here's why I'm not actually that reliable and usj was luck and why I wasn't a given for the planning in the war bye now" like.... What... Ok...

#like 1- i don't believe the interview like #why would i believe he actually told 100 percent the truth #2- it... still isn't a good enough downside to have not involved him in the war do where was he #3- all this interview about it just makes it really seem like a lot of telling and not showing #and i guess we got shown a bit and will get shown more #but the fact that we'll get shown after she'd given the huge advantage of air step #and only after a sixteen year old beat her #look i just think that could have been maybe presented a little better #to actually hype her up #but w/e the odds id give her of escaping both fridging and being a (former) love interest of Hawks Snipe or Chisaki are what maybe 15-20%? #is this enough tags to not show up in the main one #i don't want to show up in the main one you see #it should be #bnha manga spoilers #yeah yeah finally read 312 or whatever it is #there now friend does it make you feel better that everyone got the psychic damage from that tag fffgvhhjj <3 #oh i guess the telling and not showing is even more for snipe maybe that's why I'm just going 'uh huh #...' at it ya know #anyway i have rambled and made the tags incomprehensible enough sorry

[wornoutmouse]

Ayo... DOM! Deku with a choking and overstim kink. Like the baku AND DekuSquad both thinks that the reader leads the relationship and is top in bed cuz the difference in personalities and PDA. But the reader just goes along with it cuz she knows that it’s the exact opposite and she wanna get fucked fucked. So in the end the next school day they see the reader limping to school and Deku smiling cheeky. Bro Deku makes me😩 May you do a request to that? It’s ok if you won’t 😊

Question of the Day: What nicknames do y'all find not cringy during a steamy moment?

Cursing, squirting

It wasn’t your fault that people viewed you as the one in charge when it came to the sexual side of you and Izuku’s relationship. You were naturally more energetic and rivaled Bakugou in the terms of attitude and prowess, meanwhile, Deku was one of softer energy. Always smiling awkwardly and blushing at every little joke and jab. Very few people have seen Deku in his prime when he is focused on a goal and will do anything to get there. This attitude graciously carried over to his love life, something you were faithfully reminded of on one faithful day.

As usual, You, and the usual majority of class 1-A sat around each other during lunch. Deku being the nerd he was, sat leaning against you while writing something in his notebook, dusting it every so often when the wind blew flowers off the tree above you. An ethical argument between Mineta and Denki is what started the whole ordeal.

“What do you mean, Mineta?! Deku is totally the submissive one in his and Y/n’s relationship, no doubt about it!” Mineta shook his head adamantly. “I’m telling you, dude, it’s the super nice ones you have to worry about.” Denki gasped, offended, “I can’t believe you are saying this right now, have you no shame!”

Jirou rolled her eyes as she had no choice but to listen to the boy’s stupid conversation. “You do know Y/n is sitting right here right?” Based on the wide look on both of their eyes, they did not in fact realize that. Quickly looking at each other with narrowed features they dig in their pockets in order to retrieve their wallets. “20 bucks that say Y/n is topping Deku.” Mineta scoffed, “40 says you’re wrong.” they both shake on it before scooting closer to you. “So Y/n, which one of us is right.”

Looking between the two boys you open your mouth to answer the truth until you feel Deku shift his weight. He was looking at you, everyone was looking at you, all eager to hear who was right. A hand placed subtly on your back makes your smile widen, for a different reason than everyone else would guess. “Well, I can’t exactly say Denki is wrong, but I can’t say that he’s right.”

The blond whines in annoyance, “Oh come on what does that even mean!?!” While his attention is distracted, Mineta snatches the money from his hands, “That means you’re wrong now pay up.” Denki snaps out of his stupor in order to chase after his smaller classmate, “No the hell it doesn’t!” Now, with everyone’s attention being distracted to the slapstick comedy the two ensue, you realize that the hand you previously felt is gone. Deku is back to scribbling away in his notebook, giving you a false sense of relief.

“Man, Snipe is so aggressive when it comes to history!” Kirishima slouches in his chair knocking Bakugou’s hand as he eats out of a Yogurt cup. “Watch it shitty hair!” is the usual response, as the class congregates together. Asui calls you over to show you something but Deku steps in front of you before you fully stand. “Y/n since we have free time right now, I was hoping you could come and help me with something real quick.” He scratched the back of his head and looked over your head.

On the outside, it was just Deku being shy Deku, nothing suspicious about the ever-present blush he always sported was in full bloom. But from your point of view, it was obvious there was a different intent behind those eyes. “We’ll be back guys.” Deku mutters a hand settled comfortably on your waist as you walk out the door. From the corner of your eye, you could see Jirou watching the two of you leave with an eyebrow raised.

Deku guided you down the school halls, thumb rubbing shapes into your side. He said nothing as you walked, only waving and making small conversation with any familiar face you two passed by. After a long time, you two reach an unfamiliar classroom that Deku curiously peeks inside of. “So what are we doing?” “You’ll see.” Deku ushers the two of you inside before closing and locking the door shut. The mood seems to shift almost immediately.

Deku has a lazy smile on his face as he tugs on his school tie, “So what was that conversation you and Kaminari were having earlier?” Your arms tingle with goosebumps, “I don’t know what you’re referring to.” While Izuku talked, his uniform coat is placed neatly on a nearby desk table, the sleeve of his collared shirt was rolled up and out of the way. “Yeah, I figured you would say that, that’s why I wrote it down to help refresh your memory.”

Deku sits down on a desk, motioning you over to him with a twitch of his fingers. A small notebook you hadn’t noticed till now was pulled from his back pocket before being flipped through. When you stood in front of him, his hand resumed its place on your waist so he could pull you much closer. “According to my notes, Kaminari and Mineta were debating on who was in charge of our relationship.” The more he spoke, the more aware you became of his fingers tapping randomly on your back, each touch tickled your spine, “And in response, you encouraged Kaminari’s theory that you were the one in charge.” Deku snapped the notebook closed with one hand before placing it on the other side of your waist forcing you to face him. “Is that right?”

You are silent when Deku’s scarred hands undo your shirt buttons from the bottom up. “I just thought it was interesting that your answer was different from what my memory recalls.” Izuku sucks in a breath when he sees your black lace bra. The fabric covering your chest conveniently hid the faded hickeys he knew he left 3 weeks ago. “Take this off for me?” The soft tone took you off guard making you pause confused as Deku gently tugged off your shirt and tie. He stands up folding your clothes as you fiddle with your bra straps. “I’m done?” You turn around to hand him your bra but squeak out in surprise when his hand grips your neck.

He keeps his hand there as he backs you up, forcing you to sit on the desk he was previously on. “I’m curious….” Deku trails off in his speech, using the time to kiss you deeply, hand never leaving your neck. “Since you are always the one in charge, I figure that maybe I should finally put in the work and make you feel good?” Deku pulls the chair from underneath the desk and sits down, legs spread. “Well, what are you waiting for, come here?” Your stomach flips as you slide off the table, the stale cool air of the classroom makes your skin prickle with goosebumps as Deku faces you the opposite way in order for you to sit comfortably in his lap.

“Deku what if we get caught?” You nervously glance at the classroom door, the lack of a peeking window putting you somewhat at ease. You were the only one exposed and if someone were to come through that door, they would see your half-naked body in all its glory. A hovering hand grabs the ends of your faux locs to pull your head back so he could whisper in your ear. “I’m sure they’ll understand that I’m just trying to pay you back for all my laziness.”

You bite your lips coyly. He was annoyed, you could definitely hear it now from his sarcastic remarks. But that didn’t make you regret your earlier choice, not one bit, and Deku knew that. The real excitement came from seeing how long it would last.

The gentleness returned when he grabbed your chest, massaging and pulling at them for his own enjoyment before releasing them in order to slide down your stomach. As expected he pinches the skin hard between his fingers and then releases before you even have enough time to complain.

“Just relax okay?” Deku places each of your thighs atop of his, successfully spreading your legs apart. You suppressed laughter whenever his fingers grazed your skin just lightly enough that it tickled, there was no need to give him a reason to be more upset. “Wearing briefs again today?”

Your pussy is palmed without restriction as deft fingers rub at the soft cotton protecting it. “Now how am I supposed to get to you now huh?” You knew the unspoken answer, and Deku knew you hated it as he clenched his fingers into the fabric until it ripped, “Oops.” You shook your head pouting at the unfair treatment, “Why do you always have to do that, now I have to be extra careful of my skirt!”

Strike one was raising your voice.

The touch was quick but still ever so stinging. Deku slapped your pussy in response before using his other hand to hold your neck, firmly tipping it up to the ceiling. “If you would have stopped wearing underwear entirely we wouldn’t be having this conversation, you know I like easy access.” The lack of visible reaction meant nothing since you could almost feel the blood rushed to your face. Deku kisses your neck determined to add marks that you could never hide. Your dark skin peppered with purple bruises while Izuku simultaneously rolled your skirt up to your waist.

You were already wet, the small nibbles here and there were enough for your clit to twitch excitedly as Izuku’s fingers danced around it. “Please touch me!” A warm chuckle vibrated from his chest at your desperate plea, “Calm down and relax Princess. I’ll get you where you need to be.” Deku continues to ignore your clit. His fingers, ever precise, slide between your folds in order to collect your arousal. The feeling adds some pleasure but only enough to make you more desperate. “Look at you.”

Deku observed your hips buck every whenever he got close to your clit. The small nerve swelling with blood and begging to be touched, and who would he be to deny that. It was heaven on earth when he finally put pressure on it. “Mhm!” His fingers combined with your wetness as extra lubrication provided the most pleasurable feeling. You wanted to clamp your legs shut and trap him there, but his much thicker thighs kept you wide open and on display.

Deku was never one to do anything half-assed, so while his fingers flicked and pulled at your clit, his other hand got to work. However, your twitching made you clench down whenever his finger barely pushed inside, “You gotta calm down baby, how else am I going to make you cum?” Soft soothing words made you just enough for him to push his index finger inside. Your cunt was tight, warm, and irresistible. The steady pump of his fingers has you closing your eyes as you relax against him like jelly.

Deku knew your pussy like the back of his hand at this point, every ripple, nook, and cranny he knew how to touch in order to make your toes curl. He adds another finger to the mixture, then another, and a fourth one until you are gushing around his digits and onto the floor. You were a slutty mess and no intelligible words could leave your mouth but “please” and “thank you”.

And while exhibitionism was one thing he had no problem with, Deku respected the fact that you would probably not be too keen to it. “You’re being too loud puppy.” Deku retracts his hand in favor of shoving his fingers in your mouth. You could taste yourself as he pushed them in further, rubbing it along your tongue as drool rolled down his forearm.

The sound of his finger fucking your pussy was wet and sticky, It took a large effort on his part to hold you against him every time your back arched away. “I’m cumming!” Your stomach contorted beautifully against his estranged wrist. “There you go.” Izuku kissed on the shell of your ear as you adjusted past your orgasms. “Are you done?”

You turn your head to kiss him, “Yeah..” He nodded, patting your cheek, “That’s good.” Izuku helps you stand up, helping you when you wobbled ever so slightly. You look at him unsure of the constant smile adorning his face, “Now what?” Izuku slouched a little bit more, “Now you get on your knees of course!”

You only have a moment to ponder what he said before a hand on your shoulder is forcing you down to your knees. It was quick enough for you not to feel the pain of your knees slamming down, but not quick enough to see the smirk crossing your initially sweet lover.

He was already hard as a rock when you pulled him out, cockhead with a steady stream of pre coming out the tip. You admired it with a small kitten lick around the edge, pleased when it bobs from your ministrations. “You are taking too long now put it in your fucking mouth.” Your head is pressed down less than gracefully and you are forced to open your mouth less his dick be smeared against your face.

Your mouth spreads as best it could while Deku sheathed all the way down to the base. He pulls out once again as if testing the waters before letting you up for a quick breath. “For someone in charge, you aren’t very good at this.” Deku uses a patronizing finger to wipe stray saliva off your chin before gripping your chin. “Maybe this will help you learn.” Using one hand Deku uses his cock to tap your mouth expectantly. Your mouth opens on reflex and his cock is pushed back in. Deku sighs with satisfaction, “Fuck, your mouth has always been good for this.” The tempo isn’t as bruising as it was in the beginning but it was still harsh.

Tears collected in your eyes ruining the mascara Momo had put on your eyes. Your throat burned from the constant friction and lack of air. “You hear that? This was what you should have said when they had asked you who was in charge.” Deku looked at you, his curly green hair covering his eyes as shook from his arm movement. “Look at those pretty lips.” Deku flinched after you swiped your tongue on the underside of his cock.

His voice sped up in the momentum and pitched in tone, “Y-You tryna make me cum fast huh!?” You bobbed your head faster despite the tight grip on your scalp trying to pull you away, “F-Fuck Y/n stop it!” Izuku’s voice caved and his hips jerked against your chin as he emptied his balls. You wipe your face with a large grin, brown eyes daring green ones. Izuku laughed, “You wanted this huh?” You don’t respond, skin tingling in the thought of what would come next. Deku stared at you, hands gripping his knees as his dick continued to spurt cum. “Fine.”

Deku stands up before dropping to his knees in front of you. Your calves are grabbed and raised until they are placed on his left shoulder. He slides inside of you with little to no resistance and you both groan at the intrusion. “I try to be nice to you.” Your neck is grabbed again with much familiarity, “But you always test my patience.” Deku leans over you to make sure you are listening. His eyes were a light green as sunlight cast itself inside of the classroom. The sound of your hips meeting is sloppy but neither of you are bothered by it.

You moaned as his abdomen rubbed against your clit the faster he went. “Deku!” Your voice is ragged and you’re practically wheezing at this point from the tight grip he has on every inch of your body. “Shut up.” He releases your neck and spreads your legs apart resting each on its respective shoulder. With entranced eyes Izuku watches you suck him in, sneering at how unintentionally greedy you were. The sound of spit startles you as it hits Deku’s cock before being pushed inside you.

You spasm at a particularly hard thrust, you didn’t know what it hit but your spine lit to flames each time it was grazed. “D-Deku!” You reach a hand out near any piece of skin you could reach, switching from his hands to his stomach. It was too much, the feeling of pleasure made it damn near impossible to think. Deku didn’t want you to think. Every time you seemed to think, you always caused him trouble. “I told you to be quiet.” Your mouth is covered almost completely by his hand only giving you the grace of air between his index and middle finger. You cum and you cum hard, so hard that Deku slips out and almost slips into your opposite hole.

Your leg is dragged back and Deku enters you again, this time only focused on himself. You feel him piston in and out of your cunt grunting obscenities as he closed his eyes with bliss. “Come on, I want one more like that. I need you to break for me.” In the distance, you hear the hour bell ring and the sound of students leaving their classroom. You have no energy to warn Deku, not that it would have mattered. Based on the pleasured look on his face and the heightened sound of his whines, the idea of getting caught only made him feel better. “I’m gonna, o-h fuck I’m gonna fucking cum.”

You let out a scream when a thumb finds your clit and your weak hands could do nothing to keep him from forcing another orgasm from you. “Don’t fucking run from it, cum for me puppy, oh god!” He covers your mouth to stifle your noises and that’s when the sensation begins.

The sensation is strange, it starts in your lungs like air before trickling down to your loins. The feeling of holding it back is painful but you still do it for only a moment of sanity. When it releases, it gushes like a waterfall, and for a moment you wonder if you had peed. When Deku feels it, he too is unable to hold back and finally cums inside of you with a reserved grunt when he realizes the danger of discovery.

Wasting no time and feeling no fatigue, Deku moves fast to find his own pants and shirt taking barely any time to pull your skirt down before giving you 4 minutes tops to learn how to breathe again. “Stand up.” You huff as you prop yourself up on your elbow, “You could at least help a girl out after fucking me an inch of my life.” Deku shrugs, “Logically speaking you did this to yourself.” “Logically speaking I should shove my foot up your ass.”

On the way back to class, Deku took pleasure in watching you walk bowlegged. You of course didn’t share the sediment as you did your best to hold in any cum Deku graciously left behind. He opens the door for you and you walk in doing your best to walk right but the limp was clear and true. Bakugou looked bored, the rest had blushes on their faces as you struggled to sit down properly. Denki, of course, was heartbroken as he handed Mineta back his part of the bet. “I told you, dude, it’s always the silent ones.”

From the back of the class, Asui and Jirou shoot each other an impressed look as they eyes the dark lovebites traveling below your shirt collar.

#deku smut #deku x black reader #mha x black reader #mha smut #bnha x poc!reader #bnha smut

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Six

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: writing this chapter was so much fun but reading it was a train wreck so you’ll just have to find out yourself whether it’s actually good or not. hurt/comfort ahead

***

Most of Nesta’s days lately are spent holed up in her basement apartment, either studying for her finals or preparing for her move—which means that whenever Cassian wants to see her, she has to haul ass all the way to the cabin to make time for him.

Like now, on the morning of her birthday, as she stands in her pajamas and slippers in the middle of Cassian’s home gym. Staring at the reason behind his urgent phone call telling her to come over.

“It’s a pole,” she says dumbly.

“Happy birthday,” he says, looking proud of himself. “Consider it an incentive to move in faster, okay?”

“It’s a pole,” she repeats. Tall and gleaming, it stands in front of the wall of mirrors away from most of the workout equipment. “You installed a pole?”

The gift itself isn’t that surprising—Cassian could afford an entire pole dancing studio if he wanted to. What surprises her is that it’s installed here, in Cassian’s personal space. The gym is to Cassian what the reading nook is to Nesta, if not even more sacred. Nesta rarely enters it, but now… he’s extending a blatant invitation into his space.

“I know you already take classes with Gwyn and Emerie,” Cassian is saying, “but you haven’t gotten to go in a while because of school and work, so I thought it would be easier for you if I brought the dance studio over here.” He scratches his head, and Nesta’s eyes drift to the silver watch on his wrist. “You never told me you used to dance. I found out from Feyre, and she sent me videos of your old ballet recitals.”

“Did she?”

Cassian nods along. “You were good. You’re still good now, which is why you should wipe that look off your face and thank me for your gift.”

Nesta is sure she looks stupefied, but she doesn’t do anything to rein it in. She has so many thoughts, and she can only think of saying, “I don’t want to practice in front of you.”

“You don’t have to,” Cassian promises. “Other than early mornings, maybe evenings, the gym will be empty for you.”

Okay. “You—” Nesta starts, “You’re really okay with this?”

Cassian’s face drops in confusion. “Okay with what?” He looks at the pole and back at Nesta. “Do you not like it?”

“Are you okay with giving me part of the gym? Where are you going to go if you want to be alone?” She chews on her lip.

Cassian laughs. “Why would I want to be alone?”

Nesta shrugs. “I need it at least once a week. I figured everyone else was the same way.” Her alone spot in the cabin is her former bedroom from the first time she lived here. Cassian knows not to enter that room, and on days when she spends time in there he simply waits until she comes out. Nesta assumed the gym was close to being something like that for Cassian.

Realization crosses Cassian’s face. “Oh, you mean like your ‘special room’?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Nesta snipes. “I told you I don’t use it for masturbating.”

He comes over and swings a heavy arm around her shoulder. “Babe, if I wanted to be alone I wouldn’t stay in the house. I’d run the trails in the woods behind the cabin.”

“Really?” Her brows furrow. She didn’t know that.

“Look, am I gonna have to return the pole or not?” Cassian says, exasperated.

Nesta stares at him closely, and upon finding no other catch to his gift, she flings her arms around his torso. “I love it,” she declares into his chest. “I love it so much.”

His body tenses in surprise at her uncharacteristic outburst, but then she feels his strong arms wrapping around her too. “In that case, have I earned myself a private show?” he teases.

“I’ll give you so many private shows,” Nesta promises. At least, once she completes her 2L and has the time to learn how to use the pole. “Emerie and Gwyn are going to be so jealous,” she hums pridefully.

Cassian chuckles deeply, and the sound rumbles through his chest where Nesta’s head rests.

They stay holding each other in silence like that for a while, mostly because it’s too early for unnecessary conversing. When Nesta finally speaks up, it’s to say, “Did you really have to call me over at eight a.m. for this, though?”

“It’s your birthday.” Cassian strokes the hair away from her neck. “Don’t even think about sleeping,” he warns. “We’re spending the whole day together. Your sisters mailed gifts, and Gwyn and Emerie are coming over at noon.”

That works for her.

***

The week after her birthday, Nesta drops her resignation letter onto Rhysand’s desk with a heavy smack.

He looks up from the envelope to her. “What’s this?”

“I’m quitting,” she announces without flourish. “Thank you for the experience. Let’s never do it again.”

“But—you got paid more than anyone else in an assistant position ever would. And you weren’t too bad at your job for a student. What went wrong?” He picks up the letter as if he can’t believe his eyes.

Nesta’s stare is a deadpan one. “Let me guess: you thought I would take your free paychecks, use my connections to move up your nepotism ladder, and end up working at Night Court comfortably for the rest of my life?”

Rhysand sits back in his chair and raises a brow at Nesta. “This is a family business,” he says smoothly. “I thought you wanted to be part of the family?”

How funny of him. “I’m good,” she answers simply.

“You came all the way here to tell me this?” Here being Velaris, which gleams through the wall of windows behind Rhysand’s desk.

“I’m not here to see you,” Nesta says, the implication being left in the air. “I’m just stopping by.” Giving a short nod, she turns on her heel to leave.

“If you ever go looking for another job,” Rhysand calls after her, “tell me if you need a recommendation. I can get you into any position at any business.”

She pauses at the door and looks over her shoulder at Rhysand. “I already have recommendations. And a job.” Her summer clerkship at the local family law firm won’t pay a third of what she made here at Night Court, but it’s good enough for now. Combined with what she’s saved up so far, she’ll get through her final year of law school without issue.

At Rhysand’s surprised face, she takes her cue to leave.

Nesta didn’t intend on going all the way to personally meet the CEO to quit, but since Cassian has been in Velaris the whole weekend for work, she thought it would be nice to surprise Cassian with a visit and cut her ties with Night Court Inc. at the same time.

Night Court’s headquarters are huge, with the skyscraper easily being one of the tallest buildings in the city. Nesta nearly gets lost trying to find her way out of Rhysand’s offices.

When she finally spots the steel doors of the elevator, they’re about to slide shut on her. “Hold the door!” she calls out, kicking into a jog. An arm pushes out at the last second to stop the doors from closing, and Nesta slides into the elevator with a sigh of relief. The doors close after her, and she turns to thank the only other person in the elevator.

The man is already looking at her in surprise—surprise which slowly turns into a shark-like smile. “Nesta?”

Nesta’s blood goes cold. He can’t be.

“Remember me?” He points at himself, still grinning. “Keith? Keith O’Connell?”

She tries to swallow but her mouth is dry. “Yeah, I remember,” she gets out.

She remembers everyone she knew from college. She especially remembers Tomas’s closest friends.

Nesta realizes Keith is saying something to her. “What floor?” he asks.

“Uh…” Where was she going again? She can’t remember. She spits out a random number and lets Keith press the button.

Nesta turns her gaze to the flashing numbers above the doors, watching them go down and down. Why are there so many damn floors?

“Didn’t think I’d see you around here,” he goes on, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “Let me guess, you’re an intern?”

Nesta keeps her eyes glued to the floor numbers. “No.”

“Ah,” he hums. “Don’t tell me you’re still chasing that lawyer dream?”

When Nesta doesn’t respond, she finds five fingers on her jaw turning her face toward Keith’s.

She jerks out of his grip, indignant rage bubbling to the surface—rage that is almost immediately suppressed by dread and fear. She’s so small right now; she can’t remember how to be big and loud.

Keith grins, taking a step closer. “What’s wrong? I just asked a question.”

Her back bumps into the wall. She barely feels it. She might as well be back in the living room of her college apartment, sitting on the arm of the couch while Tomas makes snide remarks about her to Keith O’Connell and his other friends. She’s not allowed to leave, because then she’ll be the one who can’t take a joke.

Keith frowns disappointedly at the ground, as if he found a shiny toy just to discover that it doesn’t do any tricks. Now he’s bored. “Damn,” he says. “When you’re not busy being Tom’s bitch, I guess you’re just a bitch.”

Nesta wishes she could be a bitch right now. She wishes she could fight back. “What are you doing, Keith?”

He tilts his head at her. “I’m catching up with you. You got a boyfriend?” His beady eyes slide down her form, leaving a slimy feeling in their wake.

When her lips stay pressed in a firm line, he grabs her arm and laughs. “Come on, why’re you being so weird?” He shakes her by the elbow. “I won’t tell anyone if you do have a boyfriend, promise.”

Nesta hears a ding, and the elevator doors slide open. She doesn’t know whether it’s her floor or Keith’s floor, but she doesn’t care—she’s the first to pull away from him and make an exit. “See you,” she blurts before speedwalking out of the elevator.

Why the fuck did she say “see you”? She doesn’t want to see him ever again. He doesn’t deserve to see her ever again.

Behind her, she hears Keith chuckle again. “I’ll tell Tomas you said hi,” he calls after her.

***

Cassian finds Nesta huddled under a desk.

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he spotted her hurrying out of the elevator on the eighteenth floor of Night Court’s headquarters, but soon enough he realized that yes, that was Nesta’s coat and Nesta’s hair. She was supposed to be back home studying for her first two finals, but instead she was here looking like she was going to be sick.

He was about to follow her when his eyes slid to the man that had gotten off the elevator after her. He didn’t like how O’Connell was staring after Nesta.

“We’re old college friends,” O’Connell shrugged dismissively when Cassian approached him. “I was just saying hi.”

Nesta doesn’t have any friends from college.

Which leads Cassian to a dim, abandoned meeting room, one that would seem fully empty if it wasn't for the sound of strained breathing coming from under the only desk.

He approaches the desk slowly, his worn sneakers coming into Nesta’s line of sight. Pushing the rolling chair away, he crouches down to get a better look at her.

Tinny music comes out of her earbuds, loud enough to drown out any other sounds. She stares past Cassian like she can’t even see him, and the hollowed out look in her eyes terrifies him for a moment. When she blinks, tears spill over onto her cheeks.

“Nes?” Carefully, Cassian reaches out to touch one of her earbuds. After a second of hesitation, he pulls it out and lets it fall.

Nesta sniffles once, then finally turns her teary gaze to Cassian. Her eyes widen a little bit as she croaks, “How did you find me?”

“I followed you. What are you doing here, baby?”

“Um—” Her voice cracks, and she swipes away her tears with the sleeve of her coat. She clears her throat and says, “I came to surprise you.”

“And how’d you end up under here?” Cassian pulls Nesta’s hand away from her face before the scratchy wool can redden her face further. Makeup is smudged around her eyes, and he tries to soothe the sensitive skin there with his thumbs.

Nesta’s other earbud drops out of her ear while he fusses, leaving her with nothing to listen to.

Cassian is quietly, studiously tucking stray hairs back into Nesta’s bun when she confesses, “I was weak.”

“How?” Concern pinches Cassian’s brow. “By crying in front of me?”

“I was completely helpless,” she goes on, her voice numb. “And I didn’t know how not to be that way. I hated it, it’s so stupid.” She tears up again. “I’m not supposed to be that stupid.”

“Tell me what happened,” Cassian demands. He can’t pretend to be patient anymore.

Nesta presses her lips together and stares down at her shoes. Nothing Cassian can think of can prepare him for when she says, “I ran into a friend of my ex.”

So that’s who he is. A frightening calmness settles over Cassian. “O’Connell?” he asks, though he already knows.

Nesta looks up. “You know him?”

He tightens his jaw but nods. “Move over.” Ducking his head, Cassian crawls under the desk to join Nesta. He has to hunch over in half to fit, but Nesta doesn’t seem to mind.

He has to give it to her—it’s not a bad hiding spot.

“What did he say to you?” He tries to sound steady, undisturbed.

“He didn’t need to say anything,” Nesta answers. “I lost my spine with one look from him. He had me under his thumb.”

“I see.” Cassian has made peace with the fact that Tomas Mandray has long since moved away, that he’ll never be able to track the shithead down and make him suffer. What he didn’t know, however, is that Mandray left his friends behind.

“Were you hurt?” is his next question. “Did he touch you?” Cassian doesn’t know what he’ll do if Nesta says yes, but he has to ask anyway.

“I’m not hurt,” she assures him. But her hands rub over her upper arms like she can feel the ghost of a touch there.

“I see,” he repeats. He watches her for a bit longer before stating, “You’re not stupid.”

Nesta’s huff is amused. “Thank you.”

“And don’t spend too much time thinking about O’Connell,” he mutters, nudging her knee with his. “I’ll get rid of him for good.” That is a promise that Cassian is happy to keep.

Nesta looks alarmed. “Like…murder him?”

Cassian laughs. “No, not like that. But you’ll never see him again, so I hope you’ve said what you needed to say to him.”

Nesta thinks for a moment, then nods. “That sounds good. I don’t have anything to say to him.” She inhales a deep breath. “I think I feel better now.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Cassian holds out a hand to her. “You wanna get out of here?”

She takes his hand and he helps her out from under the desk.

Nesta apparently booked a hotel room in Velaris to surprise Cassian with, but they both agree on the way to the parking lot that they’ve had enough of the city. Cassian chooses to leave his truck behind for Rhys to take care of, and he offers to drive Nesta’s car while she rests.

The ride home is long and quiet.

Nesta sits in silence with her earbuds in, her head leaning against the car window and one of her hands in Cassian’s. He drives with his free hand, sneaking glances over at her every so often just to make sure she really is okay.

It enrages him that someone from Nesta’s past found their way into her place of work. What if he and O’Connell weren’t working in Velaris this weekend, and Nesta bumped into O’Connell in the middle of town instead? It could have tainted any sense of safety she has with the small city she calls home.

Cassian has no plans on telling her that O’Connell is the team leader for the Milan project, or that he rents a small place on the outskirts of their town. Because soon enough neither of those things will be true, and there’s no use in unnecessarily worrying her.

He absentmindedly rubs his thumb over the back of Nesta’s hand.

When they finally pull up to the cabin, Nesta picks her head up from the window to look around. Spotting the other black car parked in the driveway, she makes a sound of disappointment. “Az is home.”

“We can stay in the car if you like,” Cassian offers. He’s in no rush to go inside and face other people, either.

Nesta pulls her heels off, bending over to rub her stockinged feet. “Maybe just for a little while.”

Cassian unbuckles his seatbelt, gesturing for Nesta to put her feet in his lap.

She obliges, looking too tired to refuse him. Cassian runs his hands up her legs and under her skirt, finding the waistband of her sheer black tights and tugging.

“What are you doing?” She jerks under his hands, eyes wide. “The car’s too small for this.”

He narrows his gaze at her. “Chill, horndog. I’m just making you comfortable.” He pulls the tights the rest of the way down her legs and off, freeing her skin.

Nesta gives a little sigh of relief at the feeling of air on her bare skin. She rubs her hands over her thighs in wonder, drawing Cassian’s gaze.

He meets her eyes, and she slowly curls her legs off his lap, tucking them underneath herself instead.

Elated to have Nesta’s undivided attention after two hours of silence, he leans over and slips his hand around her jaw, pulling her in for a kiss.

Her inhale is soft, surprised, before she relaxes against his mouth. Cassian kisses her once, twice, hoping it’ll remind her that she’s safe at his side. That nothing can make her weak.

He’s slow to pull away, and he opens his eyes to find that Nesta’s are still closed, her lips still parted. He stifles a smile and whispers, “I think we should head inside.”

“Mm-hm,” she nods eagerly.

They exit the car, Cassian carrying Nesta’s shoes and tights in one hand and Nesta running over to him barefoot.

He leaves little pecks along her jaw and neck as they enter the cabin, taking extra time to find any moles or beauty marks. She’s about to turn in his arms to face him when they both take notice of Azriel sitting in the living room. Cardboard boxes surround him, and he’s filling them up with books.

Cassian drops Nesta’s heels and tights onto the floor, bringing Az’s attention to him.

“Hey, bro,” Cassian says warily. “What are you doing?”

“Moving out,” Az answers.

Nesta chokes on a laugh. When no one laughs with her, her face drops. “You’re serious?”

Cassian thinks the same thing.

“I’m going back to Velaris,” Az shrugs, dropping some trinkets into a box. “I’m ready to face Elain. I’m taking accountability.” He says it like it’s the simplest decision ever, like he’s talking about bringing an umbrella to a picnic.

“Are you sure about this?” Cassian asks. Just a while ago his brother was terrified at the idea of entering a ten mile radius of Velaris.

“I’m packing, aren’t I?” Az says dryly.

“You’re packing our things,” Cassian points out.

Nesta gasps when she notices. “Hey, those are my books!” She hurries over to snatch one out of Azriel’s hand.

Azriel snatches it back with a dark look. “What goes in the box, stays in the box.”

Cassian sputters in disbelief, looking around at the scene before him. “I mean—can we ask what brought this on?”

“Maybe I did some self-reflection. Or maybe I finally got sick of you and Nesta hooking up while I’m in the same room, like you were about to do now.” Az shrugs, pulling out a roll of packing tape and tearing off a strip with his teeth. “Don’t act like you’re going to miss me,” he continues as he tapes one of the boxes shut. “You two have been waiting for this day for months, and I’m finally granting your wishes.”

Cassian and Nesta share a look, and Cassian says hesitantly, “This isn’t… a breakdown or something, right?”

Azriel narrows his hazel eyes at Cassian.

“Okay, okay.” Cassian holds his hands up in defense. He pulls his hoodie over his head and off in one swift movement and goes over to the couch to help his brother pack. He still doesn’t know what brought on this sudden change of heart, but he knows Az won’t tell unless he wants to.

Nesta remains standing where she is, confounded, before dropping down next to an open box and rifling through it. “I want compensation for anything of mine you’re taking,” she demands, pulling out various paperbacks one by one.

“So like a dime for every three trash porns,” Cassian tells Az.

“I’m upcharging,” Nesta says. Her hand stops rummaging through the box, and she pulls out a framed photo instead of a book. She turns her steely eyes to Azriel. “You can’t have this one.”

It’s a candid picture of Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel on the ski lodge trip. Cassian remembers the moment it was taken with vividness, because it was one of the rare moments on that vacation where all three of them were smiling at the same time.

“Emerie took this,” Nesta continues, “and she’s my friend, so by extent it’s mine.”

Az smiles politely at her. “You’re right, you should keep it,” he says. “You’re too ugly in that photo for me to take it.”

Nesta sneers back, but gets up to reset the photo on the fireplace mantle.

A day or two later, Cassian notices that the ski lodge picture is gone, frame and all. He sighs to himself and hopes Nesta won’t notice.

***

a/n: it’s official less than five parts left!! cassian’s revenge scene is gonna be hotter than every smut scene combined

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook a favor: @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99

#ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

[blockgamepirate]

So we were talking on Discord about a DSMP superpowers AU, specifically Syndicate as an anarchist superhero team who are perceived as villains by pretty much everybody. (There were a bunch of people involved in the brainstorming but I wanna particularly credit @macachee for the idea for Techno’s superpowers, even though I ended up using a slightly different version than theirs.)

Anyway I know I don't really write fanfic anymore and I'm extremely rusty but uh... my hand slipped?

(CW: nothing major but there are repeated mentions of fire and some pretty tame violence)

×××

"Professor Underscore, I presume?"

The distinctive deep voice of an infamous supervillain was really not something anyone wanted to hear after 14 hours of last minute bug-fixing on a prototype superweapon in a secret laboratory. Especially when all your assistants had already called it a day and gone home.

Without even looking around, Tubbo reached for the gun in his desk drawer but before he could pull it out, a blade smashed into the wood right next to his hand.

"Nope", said the voice, "you don't get to have weapons, I get to have weapons. And speaking of weapons..."

Tubbo carefully turned around on his chair to face his attacker. As expected, it was a huge, hulking pigman dressed in flashy red and a golden mask.

"You are Protesilaus, aren't you? From the Syndicate?"

Protesilaus blinked at him. "You're a LOT younger than I expected, professor."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"I mean it's very impressive though, good for you."

"Thanks."

"So anyway, I'm here for the weapons."

"The weapons are kinda reserved already. You know, for the military."

"Don't give a shit", said a voice from the door. "Gib."

Protesilaus sighed. "Zephyrus, you're supposed to be the secret back-up."

The man hiding by the door frame laughed. "We already took care of the guards. There's nobody here but him, it's fiiine."

"But what if HE has his own secret back-up? What then? Well, it's too late now so just keep a look-out, alright?"

Zephyrus laughed again. "Sure."

"Alright." Protesilaus pointed his sword at Tubbo. "Show us to the weapons."

×××

There wasn't much he could think of doing to stall except try and tap in the pin codes on the doors as slowly as humanly possible. To be fair he didn't even really know what he was stalling for exactly. Secret back-up would have been nice but if they’d really taken out all the guards then none was likely to come.

Protesilaus was following him, sword in hand, making random small talk on the way as if he didn't know how to deal with the silence. Tubbo had only caught a few glimpses of Zephyrus, the winged man, in the background or in reflections. He seemed to be tampering with the security systems on the way, meaning that Tubbo really might be completely alone on this if the sabotage was successful. Zephyrus was also pulling along a big wheeled container of some sort that was probably intended for the weapons.

The two of them were the known members of the Syndicate, a team of anarchist terrorists who gave nightmares to the local police forces, the national guard and occasionally the military, but it was also widely theorized to have a secret third member with fire powers. Nobody had ever managed to catch them in the act, the only evidence of the secret member's existence was the trail of smoking ruins following the pair, their targets always burned down in a blaze of extremely memorable pink flames.

Tubbo had a theory that there were actually two secret members in the Syndicate, because if you're going to have one secret member you might as well have two, right? Maybe even three! It just made sense.

His assistants hadn't seemed convinced by this logic.

They arrived at the large hall leading up to the main vault where the prototypes were hidden and Tubbo finally had a plan. Somebody (probably him, honestly) had left the remote control of his battle bots lying around on a sidetable. He took advantage of his captors checking the space for surprise guards and inched slowly towards the remote.

"Everything good up there?" Protesilaus called out to Zephyrus who had flown up to the rafters.

"All good."

"Alright, seems safe enough", said Protesilaus. "Now, open the vault."

Tubbo just needed to stall a little bit longer until he could grab the remote undetected. "Actually, maybe I just won't be able to live with the fact that I let you guys get your hands on superweapons? What if I'd rather die than let you have them?"

Protesilaus sighed. "Look, don't worry, it's for a good cause, I promise."

"I mean, you guys are supervillains."

"Oh yeah sure, you're literally making weapons for an imperialist government but we're the villains?"

"What about that orphanage you burned down?" Tubbo kept moving towards the sidetable, trying to make it look like he was just pacing nervously.

"I have NEVER burned down any orphanages, I do NOT have an irrational hatred of small children, in fact I LOVE orphans in particular, you can ask anyone."

"You did, though! That was like two years ago, back when you were part of the Sleepy Bois Inc!"

Tubbo actually knew quite a lot about the Sleepy Bois, the infamous villain team who were particularly known for conning people into taking part in some sort of strange experiments, like that time they somehow transported a hundred people to the moon and told them to terraform a random area. The group had broken up a while back and two of the four had since reformed. Well, more or less reformed anyway. Actually not really reformed, but they were at least sticking to smaller crimes these days.

Anyway Mr. Business was now one of Tubbo's best friends, although nobody was supposed to know that. And Dirty Crime Boy seemed like a surprisingly nice guy. He was out there running what seemed to be some kind of a drug van but Tubbo had chosen not to worry about it too much.

The other two members, however...

"Sleepy Boys? Doesn't ring a bell." Protesilaus' face was suspiciously blank.

"You know, back when you called yourself the Blood God."

"Nah nah nah, I'm Protesilaus, not the Blood God."

"Come on, you're OBVIOUSLY the Blood God."

"I've never even heard of that guy."

"You're LITERALLY a pigman with superhealing powers and a shiny magical sword, you wear a crown AND you're hanging out with a blond guy with wings who looks just like the Angel of Death."

"Wow, wild coincidence", said Protesilaus

“Not gonna lie, the Angel of Death is a really cool name“, said Zephyrus.

Tubbo ignored them. "And you sound exactly like the Blood God."

"I don't hear it", said Protesilaus.

"You said you don't even know who he is!"

"Exactly."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'EXACTLY'??? THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!!!"

"Well I can't hear it if I've never even heard him speak. That's just logic."

Up in the rafters Zephyrus was cackling like a madman.

"You annoy me so much", said Tubbo.

"Aaaanyways, just give us a little peek into the vault, alright? Just out of curiosity, you know."

Tubbo had made it to the remote, he just needed one more distraction to cover for him grabbing it. "Uh..." Then he had an idea: he just took a quick sudden glance at the exit, as if he'd seen something over there and sure enough both of the criminals immediately turned to check. It was just long enough. He got the remote. "Okay fine, you can see the vault."

"Nice, nice." Protesilaus was still glancing around suspiciously but he had no idea what he should have been suspicious of.

Tubbo was more than happy to open the vault now. It might be holding the prototypes but it was also filled with a small army of robots.

All of which came to life with the press of a button.

"Ah", said Protesilaus. "There's his secret back-up."

"Oh Jesus", said Zephyrus. "I think we fucked up."

"You could say that", said Tubbo. "If you just leave peacefully I might let you go", he added in a sudden fit of uncharacteristic levels of confidence.

Protesilaus raised his sword. "Well you see, I really want those weapons, though."

"I guess you'll just have to fight the robots for it then", said Tubbo, configuring the targetting system.

"Mate, they've got guns on them", Zephyrus called out from above.

"Take cover then", said Protesilaus, very much not taking any cover at all himself.

Tubbo, pretty sure the bots knew which people to fight, released them on the criminals.

Protesilaus immediately managed to dodge the first few lazer bolts from the bots, but the third hit him on the arm. He flinched a bit but didn't seem too bothered. "Ouch. Okay so they can actually aim."

Still dancing around the shots, he held his hand to the wound and once he took it off, only the singed hole on his sleeve remained. The Blood God had been known for some kind of healing powers and coincidentally Protesilaus of the Syndicate, who apparently definitely wasn't the Blood God, just happened to also have healing powers. This fight was going to be hard even for thirty robots.

The pigman finally took some cover, hiding behind a pillar. The robots would have to move closer and Tubbo could already tell that if he'd manage to single them out, Protesilaus would easily take them down one by one.

Even worse, Zephyrus had hidden behind a different pillar up near the ceiling and was sniping the bots from above. They were supposed to be bulletproof but the man was absolutely cracked and managed to keep hitting them in the joints and in the eyes.

But at least the bots had given Tubbo some room to work with. He bolted into the vault and headed straight for a very specific section.

"So I just wanna know, professor", Protesilaus called out from the hall, "how are you NOT the evil mastermind here? You have a LITERAL horde of robots in your control that you can just let loose on people!"

"What do you MEAN? They're for fighting people like you! In this exact kind of situation!" Tubbo found what he was looking for and quickly unbuckled the huge harnesses holding it in place. He had to get a stool to reach the highest ones and nearly tripped on it in his hurry.

"Oh and how many of these have you sold to the government? And what if they just decide that they'd be very convenient for taking care of dissenters?"

"Well if the dissenters are literal supervillains, that sounds great." He climbed the ladder on the wall up to the platform by the mech suit and jumped inside.

He couldn't hear what Protesilaus responded after he pulled down the dome of the suit over his body. The sounds of fighting and the bulletproof glass drowned it all out from this distance, and the sound system wasn’t turned on yet. Now the odds should be a lot more even, though. Let’s see how they deal with this, he thought. He settled in and launched the mech--

... and then maneuvered awkwardly through the mess of secret weapons and machines inside his vault. He was pretty sure he didn't break too many things on the way, it was fine. In the corner of his eye he thought he saw a flash of pink and for a second he worried that the pigman had followed him into the vault where it would be almost impossible for him to fight in the suit but luckily he could still hear the sound of sword clanging into metal from outside.

He moved over to the vault door as sneakily as he could while piloting a 12-foot-tall machine in a tight space and looked out into the hall. The floor was littered with broken robots, and there were several blinded ones aimlessly wandering around and getting in the way of the ones that still functioned properly. Protesilaus was towards the back of the hall, stabbing a bot in the armpit and tearing off its arm, Zephyrus on the other hand, still perching on the rafters, had moved around the pillar he had hidden behind, now aiming away from the vault. Neither of them were looking at Tubbo. He took aim and shot at one of the huge grey wings.

"Ah! Fuck!" Zephyrus spun around. "You little shit!"

"Zephyrus, are you okay??" Protesilaus immediately looked over to his ally and took another hit himself.

"I'm FINE, dude!" Zephyrus sounded exasperated but fond. "Look out yourself! Also the kid has a fucking mech."

"A what?"

Tubbo slammed the vault door shut. Good luck getting in there now, Syndicate. Then he tossed aside some robot carcasses to clear out the floor and threw one at Protesilaus who dodged it easily but in the process took another hit from a different robot. He was starting to look tired and he was obviously distracted by Zephyrus getting hurt. That was promising.

Tubbo started climbing the pillar up to the ceiling. Zephyrus cursed again and tried to hop around the pillar to run across to the other side but his hurt wing didn't open properly so he lost his balance, slipped up and fell. "Shit!"

"ZEPHYRUS!"

The man managed to open his wings and soften the fall but the injury made him veer dangerously to the left and crash into a pile of broken robots. Protesilaus leaped over to him, dropping his sword and laying his hands on his friend's wing and back. A faint red glow emitted from the touch points.

Tubbo jumped back down to the ground and stormed at them. He punched the pigman right in the chin, sending him flying across the room. He then tried to grab Zephyrus but the man had already slipped away and had apparently managed to pick up his friend's sword. "You motherfucker", the man said, "I'm going to take that fucking suit apart and then it's your turn."

"Zeph!" Protesilaus called from the side and Zephyrus tossed the sword to him without taking his eyes of off Tubbo. Then the man pulled up his sniper rifle again and Tubbo quickly covered his weak points with his armoured arms and jumped behind a pillar. He needed to disarm Zephyrus ASAP.

Behind them, Protesilaus was taking care of the last few robots. Tubbo didn't have much time, but he couldn't do anything until Zephyrus would have to reload, the guy was just too accurate...

"Oh fuck", said Zephyrus suddenly. "Prot, the door!"

They all turned to look at the exit.

There, at the door, was Ranboo, widened eyes flicking between Tubbo, the broken robots and the Syndicade. He was holding a bowl of biscuits and a cup of tea. "Uh... hello? Hi?"

Ranboo was actually NOT allowed in the vaults but how do you stop someone who can literally teleport anyway? Tubbo was glad to see him sneaking in, though.

"Ranboo! Help! They're trying to steal the weapons!"

"I..." Ranboo seemed frozen in place.

"Ranboo!" Tubbo was starting to get worried. His husband wasn't even taking any shelter. He drove the mech over to him to at least give him some protection.

"I just came to bring you cookies? Coz I thought maybe you were staying late to make the deadline and I thought--"

"Ranboo, I'm being attacked by supervillains right now!"

"Look, what if we just talked this through? I'm sure everybody here would rather not kill each other, right?" Ranboo was tall enough to lay a hand on Tubbo's shoulder even when he was wearing the mech suit which kind of pissed Tubbo off to be quite honest.

"Sure", said Protesilaus, "I love negotiating. Give us the weapons and their blueprints and we're more than happy to go."

"See? That's good, right? Tubbo, we can just let them have the weapons."

"Ranboo, sometimes you're a bit too quirky for my liking. Stop being quirky, help me fight them. You can use your... T-E-L-I-P-O-R-T-A-T-I-O-N powers."

Everybody just stared at him for a second.

"Shouldn't it be T-E-L-E?" said Protesilaus.

"Tubbo, you realise they can spell words too, you know, like most people who graduated elementary school?" said Ranboo.

"I'M SORRY! I'M TIRED, OKAY?"

“You could have just said ‘use your powers’, I mean, I know what my powers are.”

“IT'S BEEN A REALLY LONG DAY!“

"Zephyrus, I think this guy might be too much for us, I've never met such intimidating intellect", said Protesilaus. Zephyrus seemed to already be dying of laughter and his ally's words did not help.

"Now that's just rude," said Tubbo.

He'd barely finished his sentence when a horrible whistling sound hit them all like an invisible cargo train. After a second Tubbo managed to reassemble his braincells long enough to figure it out: "The fire alarm!"

Then he noticed the grin on his enemy's face. "Well, good job, everyone! Let's go home, Zephyrus", said Protesilaus cheerfully.

"Sure, mate."

The secret third member of the Syndicate, Tubbo suddenly remembered. The container they'd brought with them was gone too. Well, fuck. "This whole thing was a diversion??"

"Yep." The Protesilaus was already at the exit and Zephyrus was following right behind him. "See ya, losers!"

Something inside the vault exploded, making a muffled bang through the door, as if just to prove where exactly the fire had been lit.

"Oh man..." Tubbo flopped down on his seat. "I spent SO LONG building all those things!"

"Tubbo, we need to get out." Ranboo took him by the hand of his mech suit and pulled him along.

"No, we could still go in and save the--"

"No, Tubbo. Let's NOT run into the vault full of dangerous chemicals that's literally on fire, actually."

×××

By the time the fire department showed up, pink flames had enveloped the entire lab complex. The terrorists presumably had at least one of the prototypes now and all the remaining ones were a lost cause.

It's not like all the work was gone to waste, they'd made some backups at least, but it would be a pain to find a new lab and order all the extremely volatile chemicals again. So much paperwork. Tubbo was really not good at paperwork.

"Well, there goes my summer holidays I guess", he said.

"Yeah", said Ranboo. "There they go."

×××

"So... Lethe", said Techno at the next Syndicate meeting, "you never happened to mention you were friends with Professor Underscore."

Ranboo shifted nervously in his chair. "I mean... in my defence, you never said you were going to raid his lab?"

"True, true. It didn't seem like relevant information at the time I suppose. You know, because you're kinda more in the group just for the book club and Bake Off Fridays and not so much for the vigilante thing."

"How do you know Professor Underscore, Lethe?" asked Niki gently.

Ranboo looked around the table. He was fairly certain that the others wouldn't kill him for fraternizing with the enemy. He was pretty sure anyway. At least 70% sure.

Also they were all staring at him now.

"Uh... he's my... husband?"

The staring continued.

"Oh!" said Niki.

"Well", said Techno. "This is awkward."

"Uh huh?" Ranboo responded, his entire body tense and slightly wobbly.

"Techno", Phil said softly. Techno brushed him off.

"So uh, are you attached to him, Lethe?"

"Y-yes?" Ranboo straightened his back. "Yes." he said again, more firmly.

"Alright. I guess in the future we should try not to kill him then."

#dsmp fanfiction #technoblade fanfiction #im not tagging the others #i feel like im too much of a techno stan and it shows

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {19}: More Than You Could Ever Know Pt. 3

Previous: You Gotta Believe Me!

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff 

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing!

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: After meeting at Christmas Speed Dating, you and Jungkook finally go out on your first date.

Listening: All I Want for Christmas Is You, Mariah Carey

Tag List  

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

           They stay at the bar until closing time, Jungkook’s long stopped staring at the spot you and your friends were in. He had hoped the MC would’ve called him with his matches, or emailed or whatever they were going to do. But no one had. Shuffling into his home, Bam greeted him, eager to go outside and have a cuddle before bed. Jungkook attaches the leash on his collar, and they’re off on a brisk winter walk.

           He’s no more than one block away from his house when his phone rings. An unknown number.

           “Hello?”

           “Jungkook?”

           He’d recognize your voice anywhere. “Y/N?”

           “Hey,”

           “How’d you?”

           “I know the MC, Kendall, and she gave me your number,” You’re smiling – he’d bet his kidney that you are.

           “You wanted to talk to me that badly?”

           “Yeah. I saw you eyeing me before I left. I figured you felt what I did so I called.”

           “You’re bold,”

           “I like to think so,”

           “So you called, just to say hello?”

           “Do you wanna go see Christmas lights this weekend?”

           Jungkook chuckles. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

           Dressed in a black plaid jacket, gloves covering his hands a beanie haphazardly on his head, Jungkook waits patiently for you at the start oof the light parade. In a neighborhood not too far from the bar you met, an entire collection of houses decorates their houses, full on sound-tracked light shows. It’s a hot ticket, and somehow, you’d scored two for Saturday night. Truthfully, you have an old family friend that lives a block over and does have their oown show timed exclusively to Christmas songs and carols by black artists. It’s incredible, Aretha and Whitney and Mariah blasting with stunning lights accenting each note.

           He glances away from his phone at the moment you cross the street to him. An emerald coat with gold hardware, accompanied by a beanie that is placed delicately over your hair, your nose is already rosy.

           “Hey,” Jungkook smiles broadly, excited and nervous to see you.

           “Hey!” You reach for a hug, and he reciprocates, taking a second to sniff your perfume. You don’t notice – too rapt in smelling whatever cologne or bar soap he’s used.  

           “How’ve you been?” Jungkook asks.

           “Since you texted me an hour ago?”

           “Yeah,” He blushes.

           “I’ve been good, excited,” You’re blushing too. The thing about this first date is that it really doesn’t feel like one at all. Jungkook, in the spirit of your initial call, cold called you the following night, and somehow, it had started to become a routine. He’d call while making dinner or folding laundry, you’d call before bed… somehow you didn’t quite feel like strangers anymore. Is this dating?

           “Me too,” He confides. “Do you want to get a drink before we go?”

           “Oh, yeah!”

           “Supposedly their mulled wine is decent.”

           “Oh?” You ask.

           “Yeah, a friend told me,” His nonchalant attitude is amusing to you, like he can expel his shyness by pretending not to have done his research on this first real, true, date. Okay, maybe your 2nd date.

           You nod your head. “You’re not a fan of the hot toddy?”

           “I hate the name, but I do like whiskey.”

           “Mm, I really hate the name, so much so that I’ve never tried it. Though I guess I don’t like whiskey much.”

           “You don’t like whiskey?” Jungkook feigns horror, breath visible and floating through the air.

           “Nope.”

           “Oh no, that might be a deal breaker.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know drinking a pale ale gave you the tastebuds to discern good alcohol,” You snipe, shoulder brushing his.

           “Feisty.”

           “Tell me you don’t like it.”

           Jungkook takes the final step up to the window and orders. “One hot toddy and one mulled wine.”

           He pays, and you both step to the side and wait for your drinks.  

          “So,” Jungkook starts, his drink in his hand. “You wanna sip?”

          “Haven’t even kissed yet and you want to share a beverage?”

          Jungkook smirks, his lust taking over minimally as he watches your lips over your cup. “I can kiss you first, I have no problems with that.”

          “I’ll take a sip,” You reach for his cup, turning it to the opposite side his lips were on before sipping the smallest, most timid sip.

          “Thoughts?”

          “It’s, terrible.”

          “No, it’s not!” he laughs, a little tension leaving from between his shoulders.

          “It is! But I don’t like whiskey, so it inherently isn’t for me! Here, taste my wine.”

          “What’s that Taylor Swift lyric?” Jungkook knows you know. You’ve woven at least 5 separate ones into various conversations.

          “About wine? I can think of two off the top of my head… maybe three. Or more.”

          “And they are?”

          “August sipped away like a bottle of wine,” You recite. “Or dare to sit and stare and watch what we’ll become / and drink my husband’s wine.”

          “That’s two,” He counts.

          “You’re still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can’t wear anymore.”  

           “Three.”

           “My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust, trying to find a part of me you didn’t take up. One of my favorite bridges.”

           “Got any more?” He’s partially teasing, partially hoping you can pull out another one or two.

           “Oh! Two for the price of one! We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a bottle of wine, followed by, she says ‘that ain’t my merlot on his mouth’! How many was that?”

           “Five?”

           “Damn, I’m good yeah?”

           Jungkook’s shoulder nudges yours. “Yeah, you are.”

           “Stop looking at me like that,” You request, pausing in front of the first house.

           “Like what?”

           “Like I’m exactly what you asked Santa for this Christmas.”

           “Aren’t you?” Jungkook asks. He watches your expression shift, you’re flustered and praying he can’t hear your heart beating almost outside your chest.

          “I haven’t dated in a minute,” He admits, filling the silence as you walk from one house to the next. “I’m a bit, rusty.”

          “I can do rusty,” You smile. “Plus, if you were good at dating, wouldn’t that be more concerning?”

          “I guess. there’s a difference between being good at dating or good at talking to new people.”

          “True, and if you have to have direct communication with people at work, you get better at it.”

          Jungkook laughs, the sound waves cutting through the crisp air. “Are you fishing for my occupation?”

          “Perhaps,” You laugh too.

          “I’m in tech, coding software for a small in-house team that works with a larger conglomerate.”

          You sip your mulled wine, it is amazing how much better it is than the hot toddy. “Why don’t you just say you work for Apple?”

          “I don’t,” Jungkook answers. In the hours you’ve spent on the phone, you’ve never really spoken about work.

          “That seems suspicious to me.”

          “Why?”

          “I suppose you could work for a subsidiary of Microsoft, but then, I feel like we would’ve crossed paths,” Your eyes are focused on the lights in front of you, not so much in how his doe eyes stare at your profile, taking in the blossom of your cheeks and the plump curve of your lips. He wasn’t kidding about kissing you – maybe he’ll get to after tonight.

          Jungkook pauses. “You work for Microsoft?”

          “No, I work for a small in-house tech team that works with a larger conglomerate,” You smirk.

          Jungkook stares, tongue swiping his bottom lip. “You’re not funny.”

          “I am too,” You argue. Your eyes don’t miss how hungrily he takes in your lips, or how you stare back at his, wanting the same thing.

          “What do you do then?”

          “I’m a therapist.”

          Jungkook stops walking, turning to look at you. Somehow, you’ve made it through two blocks of lights, and he’s sure you’re enjoying yourself, after all you both keep walking into each other. He wants to take your gloved hand in his, or take his glove off and intertwine it, skin on skin… but he’ll wait.

          “I work with kids primarily, and teenagers, so no marriage and relationship stuff necessarily,” You’re not quick to explain yourself, you don’t need to.

          “Oh shit.”

          “I’m not going to psychoanalyze you, Jungkook.”

          He’d forgotten how good his name sounded leaving your lips.

          “I appreciate that,” He nods. “I’ve gone to therapy. I learned a lot from it.”

          “I’m glad you sought the help you needed,” You answer. “Tell me, if you could summarize your entire human experience through one Christmas movie, what would it be?”

          “Are you pulling out your speed dating leftovers?” He stops fucking around and reaches for your hand. You stare at it, his gloved hand reaching for yours.

          “If we take our hands out of our gloves… will they freeze or fuse together?” You ask.

          “I really don’t want your hand to be frozen.”

          “Me either,” You squeeze.

          “You gotta answer my question,” Jungkook reminds you. “Was that question a reject?”

          You’re bashful yet again. “No, no one was quite worthy enough of it, so I saved it. What’s your answer?”  

          “The Santa Claus.”

          “Angst with heartwarming?” You recall from your first interaction a week ago.

          “Divorced parents.” Jungkook takes your silence as a sign you are trying to not analyze him or work through his trauma as it relates to Christmas. “What about you?”

          “Bridget Jones’ Diary, for sure.”

          “Really?”

          “Oh yeah, perpetually picking the wrong guy, conforming to unrealistic beauty standards and neglecting health, for sure have embarrassed myself in front of plenty of coworkers and practitioners,” You don’t mind sharing this little piece oof yourself with him. After all, he’d given you his first.

          “It works out in the end though. She likes herself, mostly.”

          “I suppose. I have better friends and have never really dated anyone that’s broken my spirit or used me quite like Daniel Cleaver.”

          “That’s good.”

          “I didn’t mean for this to get so, heavy,” You apologize.

          “That’s okay, helps me get to know you.”

          “Can I tell you a secret?” You’ve made it to your family friends house, and as if they’ve been waiting for you, the opening notes of the most iconic Christmas song of all time starts.

          “Anything.”

          “I know the people who own this house.”

          “Oh shit!”

          You smile at him. “Yeah, they’re cool. Went to college with my mom.”

          “Did you ask them to pick this song?” Jungkook’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you to him.

          “I told you, they only play songs by black artists. I’m sure next is Whitney Houston, then Leslie Odom Jr.”

          “Mm,” Jungkook nods. “I’ll believe you.”

          “Good, you should.”

          He stares into your eyes, trying to gain any confidence or certainty from how your irises are staring directly into his.

          “Can I kiss you?”

          You can’t hide your smile. “Yes, you can.”

          Jungkook dips his head, lips meeting yours as the final bridge swells, lights shining brightly everywhere. 

Next: Your Love is All I Need

#bangtanbathhouse #bangtanarmynet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #ultkpopnetwork #kpopccc #dailybts #purplearmynet #dailybangtan #justasparkwritings #merry&bright2021 #merryandbright #christmas #BTS fic #BTS fanfic #clubzerooclock

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #261: EARTH and BEYOND!

November, 1985

Oh god, Secret Wars II continues in this issue...

And it looks like Beyonder and his silly Stryfe-putting-to-shame armor is going to feature prominently in this issue? Being on the cover? Looming over the background?

I’ll try to keep an open mind. I’ve argued that Secret Wars II had at its very core some interesting ideas so now I’ll put my money in my mouth. And just hope that not a lot of other issues are integral to this issue. I only want to handle one issue at a time for a while.

SO.

Last times on Avengers: Vision sent Captain Monica Marvel into space to distract her from his world-takeover attempt (which the Avengers talked him out of later) and despite it being a several hours long snipe hunt, Monica still manages to get kidnapped to another galaxy by (Thanos’ granddaughter?) Nebula.

Monica winds up joining up with the Skrull armada against Nebula and manage to send the Avengers a message. The Avengers show up and also join the Skrulls in fighting Nebula although the Beyonder teleports her to ??? before the Avengers can capture her.

Then, they had a side adventure while they were IN SPACE to a Skrull power asteroid where a Skrull mad scientist and a power mad Skrull extremist set off a bomb that mode-locks all Skrulls so they can’t shapeshift anymore.

Bummer for them.

The Avengers have to return from their adventure to the power asteroid to tell cool guy General Zedrao the bad news.

The Skrull armada soldiers actually take it pretty well, all told.

I guess because they’re soldiers and not spies or miscellaneous, they didn’t get as much use out of the shapeshifting. Even though you’d think there’d be combat applications for anyone the least bit creative.

One of the soldiers says hey everyone here still has their true Skrull face and also are the heroes that helped stop Nebula. Plus, they get the Sanctuary II as a cool addition to the Skrull armada.

‘Um, no,’ says Starfox.

The same soldier is like yeah how you going to stop us from taking it, while his Skrull buddy is like ‘stfu man!’ but Starfox has a very simple fix to what to do with Thanos’ flagship warship.

He just implodes it the fuck... uh not up. In? Implodes it the fuck in?

Point being, nobody gets it.

The Skrull soldier complains to General Zedrao like complaining to mom that somebody broke a toy but Zedra tells him to suck it up. It was Starfox’s because Skrulls respect blood-right when it comes to salvage. Thanos built it, Thanos dead, Starfox gets it. And he can blow it up if he wants to.

Zedrao does suggest maybe the Avengers gtfo because there’s liable to be a mutiny if they keep hanging around.

Firelord still doesn’t trust the Skrulls and is sure that this is a Skrull trick to blow up the Avengers as soon as they’re all off any Skrull ships but Wasp tells him to stfu.

Wasp: “Firelord, shut up! Zedrao has earned the Avengers’ trust -- which is more than I can say for you!”

Captain Monica points out too that Zedrao is the one who sent out the rescue party that found Firelord passed out on some moon and brought him back for healing.

Firelord: “That I should be indebted to a Skrull -- ! Astounding!”

Hercules: “‘Tis a debt you can repay by leaving with us in peace!”

I have a feeling that Firelord is definitely a contender for Avengers’ least favorite guest star. Although, looking at the cover, I wonder if that’s going to change.

While the Avengers go to leave, General Zedrao stops them for one last word.

General Zedrao: “One moment, Avengers. My race has waged war across the stars for millions of years -- we have made few allies. Our races have been hated enemies, yet you fought alongside us against Nebula as though we were your own kind! I do not fully understand such selflessness, but I feel strangely honored by it. May your courage endure!”

Captain America, doing a salute because of course he is: “Goodbye, general. if we meet again, may it be as allies once more!”

Seriously. Zedrao seems rad. It doesn’t seem like he has more appearances and that’s a shame. Boo and hiss.

So the Avengers take off in Starfox’s dad’s ship and warps through sub-space Earthways.

While Firelord is still bewildered that Skrulls were not complete dicks at him and Hercules angles that into an excuse to tell the story of the Argo, as Wasp watches space TV apparently, while Black Knight is still more awed by FTL travel than anything he’s seen traveling time and dimensions, Captain Steve worries that the weirdo they saw in space was the Beyonder which can only mean trouble.

But that gets put to the wayside because Starfox announces he’s leaving the Avengers.

He claims that its just wanderlust but Captain Marvel sees right through him that he’s been acting out of sorts since Nebula got away and guesses correctly that Starfox is going after her.

Starfox admits this and that it may be a family matter since Nebula claims to be Thanos’ grand-daughter.

Captain America: “Good lord!”

I don’t know if Cap is thinking ‘good lord, another Thanos??’ or ‘good lord, Thanos fucks??’ because he’s going to be very disappointed if its the latter reaction. Thanos fucks so, so much.

I think Thanos might fuck more than his brother Eros, ironically.

Wasp: “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

Starfox: “Because Nebula is my personal responsibility. Had I acted less recklessly, she might have been captured. And if she is Thanos’ grand-daughter, I have a familial duty to stop her. The rest of you Avengers are of the Earth -- you are needed here! BUt I have no roots, no bonds... not even to my birth-world of Titan. I’ve wandered the cosmos for most of my life. I stand the best chance of finding Nebula and bringing her to justice.”

Firelord offers to come help since he is also a wanderer and also has a justice duty since Nebula destroyed his homeworld of Xandar.

Starfox’s response, hilariously, is a sour expression and a “Very well, if you must.”

Hahaha, yeah, Firelord is DEFINITELY the Avengers’ least favorite guest star.

For some reason and despite knowing Starfox only a few weeks, Black Knight apparently takes it hardest of all, feeling like he’s losing a brother.

I wonder if that’s one of those Black Knight Plot Hooks, like later on where he’ll keep staring at Exodus and going ‘I swear I know this guy from somewhere.’

Starfox says he’ll miss being an Avenger but Cap says that they’ll just put him on the inactive roster. Its not like if you leave you can never join again.

Instead of swinging by Earth, Starfox just launches the Avengers’ Quinjet out of his ship while they’re still in sub-space but pointed largely in the direction of Earth.

The Quinjet, not being designed for sub-space gets buffeted around a lot but Starfox was pretty positive that the ship could take it. And all they have to do is follow a navigation course he entered into the Quinjet navigation computer, which it definitely has, to a natural warp nexus that’ll pop them out near Earth.

Very near Earth. Like right in its orbit.

As they go, Firelord comments:

Firelord: “How is it that so insignificant a race could produce such heroes?”

Starfox: “You underestimate them. An old friend once told me that Earth’s humanity has a glorious destiny... and I never knew him to be wrong.”

Was that Mar-Vell? I’m not getting the reference. Editorial captions, why have you failed me?

Also, the funny thing is that Earth’s glorious destiny is to take over all of space with the power of Rick Jones’ bullshit reality warping. Thankfully, that future did not refuse to change.

So. That’s it for Starfox on the Avengers.

I don’t believe he’ll be a constant member of the roster again but he’ll appear in the Avengers book again.

As a member of the Avengers... he was fine. Aside from his ‘pleasure power’ he’s kind of just a boring flying brick. Even considering the wrinkle they tried to give him with light gravity powers.

It was fun that he just wanted to be the party Avenger but kept having to be the science Avenger or serious Avenger but not as much as could have been done with it was.

I feel more could have been done with him joining the Avengers for adventure and finding that it also involved a lot of training and, I dunno, paperwork? I assume the Avengers do paperwork sometimes.

In a lot of ways Starfox was mainly around to facilitate Vision’s arc and found something else to do once Vision’s arc was over.

He seemed like he would have had more to do with She-Hulk if She-Hulk weren’t suddenly shuffled over to the Fantastic Four book instead.

But: he wasn’t as bad as I was fearing so there’s that. Just a solid member of the team even if not the most interesting person present.

Anyway.

The Avengers arrive back on Earth and Captain Marvel takes off immediately lightspeed nyoom because she’s been lost in space for weeks and needs to let her family know she’s okay.

She arrives in New Orleans a fraction of a second after nyooming and appears in her parent’s home in a literal flash.

It’s nice to have some family as a supporting cast on the book.

Monica’s parents were clearly worried about her when they weren’t able to reach her for days but accept her explanation because she’s an adult and just get to feeding her.

Which Monica is totally down for. Since she lost a couple pounds when she overwhelmed the Sanctuary II’s shields.

I dunno, it just feels like any family that shows up in Avengers are Huge Drama Bombs like Magneto or. Y’know. Literally everything that just happened with Vision and Wonder Man and Grim Reaper.

Does Black Knight have any living family? Not yet he doesn’t! Wasp doesn’t seem to either, neither does Cap. Hercules Avenges to get some time AWAY from his family.

So I like that Monica just has a normal family situation.

Also, a very nice touch that Frank Rambeau goes from picking at his cold cereal to offering to cook up a huge breakfast for everyone once Monica shows up.

Meanwhile, in New York, the Avengers finally return to Avengers’ Mansion after their space adventures in space. And boy is Jarvis glad to see them.

While they were gone, a weird man showed up to see the Avengers and Jarvis felt compelled to let him in. Jarvis told the man that the Avengers were up IN SPACE so the guy goes oh ok i’ll go find them and teleports away.

Then reappeared an hour later muttering about how he’d made a mess of things.

We remember that. He teleported Nebula away because he very literally interpreted things that Firelord said and then everyone yelled at him.

Cap remembers that too and deduce guesses from context that the visitor to the Mansion was in fact the very same weirdo they met in space.

Captain America: “And given the kind of power he’s throwing around, I’m sure that he’s the Beyonder! One thing is certain though -- we must give the highest priority to tracking him down!”

Jarvis then has to politely cough and say actually there may be a higher priority and hands Wasp a letter delivered by government courier some hours ago. The letter is from the Federal Aviation Administration and it says the Avengers only have 30 days to move their Quinjets out of the city!

That wacky government is up to their ol’ shenanigans again!

Something like that was bound to happen since Henry Peter Gyrich is all up in the Avengers’ business again and the Avengers are losing their special government privileges due to that whole Vision trying to take over the world thing.

They lost their Quinjet launch rights back in the Korvac Saga too and had to take a bus to the battle against the all-powerful doofus. That was fun.

And now there’s another all-powerful doofus in the mix.

History really does repeat.

So the real highest priority is for Cap and Wasp to go to Washington, D.C. the next morning to talk to Mr. Fenton of the FAA.

Wasp: “But, Mr. Fenton, we need easy access to our Quinjets! We often have to respond to trouble around the world in a matter of minutes!”

Mr. Fenton: “I see your problem, but I can’t allow the continuance of a private jetport for supersonic aircraft in the heart of Manhattan. Especially considering the highly volatile aviation fuel you store there! You were originally allowed an exemption for your ‘Quinjet facility’ only because of your special government clearance. And what with the Security Council restructuring their clearance -- the FAA has decided to cancel that exemption. You really should move your base of operations to a safer location!”

Captain America: “At least grant us an extension on that 30-day limit, man! Right now, the world faces a menace of unspeakable power who could strike anywhere, at anytime!”

Mr. Fenton: “Oh, really? And just what might this menace be?”

Hah!

Beyonder: “It is allowable to call you ‘Cap’, isn’t it? The Wasp calls you that... and I heard Iron Man and Hawkeye call you that when we were in California!”

Very polite of the Beyonder to ask first.

Cap(tain America) tells Beyonder he just wants to talk and Beyonder goes “You do prefer to settle conflict with words, don’t you? Well, if you want to talk, you have to catch me first!”

And then takes off running.

I see Beyonder has decided to be one of those fun cosmic entities.

Mr. Felton asks if he should call the police but Cap says that if they can’t reason with him, all the armies in the world couldn’t help.

So, I guess its good he wants to be silly.

Wasp notes that the Beyonder moves and looks a bit like Cap which Cap has also noticed. Unbeknownst to either of them, the Beyonder decided to base his body on Cap’s because of him being peak human. But then gave himself a different haircut.

Since Wasp can navigate the crowd faster than Cap can, she zips around until she can zap him in the cheek.

The Beyonder stands stunned that she caught up to him which gives Cap the chance to catch up and hurl his mighty shield.

And whenever Captain America throws his mighty shield/all who oppose his shield must yield!

To gravity if nothing else.

Looking bemused at how quickly the two Avengers caught him and knocked him down, he comments he’ll have to try again and teleports away.

All very confusing and worrying to the Avengers.

When a cosmic entity decides to play tag on Earth, it just causes anxiety.

If nothing else, Cap’s worried that the Beyonder might start some kind of Secret War II on Earth.

Twenty-four hours later, Black Knight and Hercules are visiting Project Pegasus in the Catskill Mountains.

Since the Avengers have helped out Project Pegasus multiple times, the Avengers are hoping that Project Pegasus will build them some sort of... Beyonder tracker.

And Dr. Clark of the cosmic ray research unit is just the man for the job.

Based on the recorded emission of high-level cosmic radiation the Avengers got off of the Beyonder, Dr. Clark believes they can create a triangulation network to find him.

Black Knight: “Whatever it takes, let’s do it! We must find our man!”

Dr. Clark: “All right, then. I’ll contact... eh?”

The Beyonder, appearing right behind them: “What a marvelous collection of devices! How do they work? What do they do? May I flip some switches?”

Maybe they should have let him flip some switches.

Instead of what they actually do.

Hercules tries to bear hug the Beyonder into submission but makes the mistake of telling him that its impossible to break his grip.

So Beyonder tries, by blowing Project Pegasus a new one.

And credit where its due! He does break Hercules’ grip!

Hercules: “Hounds of Hades... ne’er have I felt such bludgeoning power... Not from the fists of the Hulk, not from the hammer of Thor, not even -- father forgive me -- from the thunderbolts of Zeus! What manner of power does this Beyonder possess?!?”

It’s weird that he says bludgeoning power. You don’t typically think of an explosion as bludgeoning despite it having a lot of kinetic force.

Maybe he headbutted Hercules?

Since Hercules has been blown away, it leaves Black Knight to try to fight the Beyonder now.

Despite Black Knight really not wanting to. Because of that aforementioned bit where he blew Hercules away and tore Project Pegasus a new one.

Black Knight just has a sword. It doesn’t even angst nuke yet.

But the Beyonder is only intrigued by Black Knight waving a sword at him.

Beyonder: “I am not overly familiar with swordplay. Show me how it’s done!”

And then he grows a bunch of hands wielding swords from the ground for Black Knight to fight.

Uh, eat shit EMIYA I guess.

Black Knight easily cuts through the arms because his Ebony Blade can’t do angst nuke yet but it is a super sharp magical sword.

Can it cut through adamantium? I’m sure that has been answered in some comic somewhere.

So the Beyonder just summons up a sword for himself so he can one-on-one with Black Knight.

And this puts things enough on Black Knight’s level that he starts shit-talking Beyonder. Guy may be an overpowered cosmic being but his swordmanship is shit and his sword is easily broken by the Ebony Blade. Black Knight even suggests that this fight is just a waste of time.

Beyonder: “Experience is no waste of time! And I must experience this to the fullest!”

Then he lunges forward and accidentally impales himself on the Ebony Blade.

Uh. Problem solved?

But no.

He’s not really hurt by getting impaled but he is... sheepish maybe? That he got overeager and forgot that pain hurts.

The Beyonder just kind of nopes out to go think about things.

Another time skip forward, this one a couple hours.

Black Knight and Hercules have returned to the Mansion and are reporting on what happened and how the Beyonder just left after downplaying getting stabbed.

Thankfully nobody at Project Pegasus was hurt by the massive explosion.

Not clear whether that was luck or whether the Beyonder was being very careful in his fun.

But the weirdo alien himself showing up and breaking shit convinced Project Pegasus higher-ups to fast-track the Beyonder detection system. So it should be ready by the end of the day.

Which only leaves the issue for the Avengers of what they’ll even do once they can track down the Beyonder, a question that Wasp is pondering carefully.

Hercules: “I know what I would do, if I found the Beyonder!”

The Beyonder: -appearing suddenly- “Oh? What would you do?”

WHAM

Good answer, Herc!

Hercules uppercuts the Beyonder so hard that he in fact flies through the three above floors, igniting the Quinjet fuel stored on the third floor and turning that part of the mansion into an inferno. But thankfully not an Inferno. That’s for later.

The FAA somewhere possibly getting the weirdest urge to shout YA SEE??

Thankfully, the fire safety systems throughout the rest of the mansion halt the spread but still, Hercules, c’mon, have some awareness. Don’t trash your own home.

Captain Marvel zips up to the third floor and finds the Beyonder perfectly okay.

Hercules arrives not long after, punching his way through a fire safety door, which again, c’mon Herc, that door prevents the spread of fire ya goof, ready to smite the Beyonder EVEN HARDER but Cap(tain America) tells him to chill.

Black Knight finally thinks to just ask the Beyonder what the fuck he’s up to.

Black Knight: “Beyonder, you’ve played cat-and-mouse with us for the past two days... just what is it that you want?”

Beyonder: “I want to understand you... your world... everything! You are all so fascinating yet confusing at the same time. I sought to help you in that other galaxy -- to earn and experience your gratitude. But my attempt failed because I misunderstood your goals. It was all very confusing and... discomforting. I thought that perhaps I could make amends by giving you the challenge of pursuing me. Ah... that is your form of sport, isn’t it?”

Oh my god.

So going back to where the entire first Secret Wars was basically the Beyonder banging some action figures together, well, that’s his mindset. He lacks context for most everything so he figures that banging action figures together is just what the Avengers do for fun.

He messed up them chasing Nebula around so he let them chase him around.

It’s all very...... hilarious. It’s all very hilarious. To me.

Wasp figures hey Beyonder wants to understand what the Avengers do, she’s gonna offer him a spot on the team.

Hercules is outraged but the Avengers talk themselves around to the idea.

Because, look, they can’t beat him. So why not have him join them? If the Beyonder is hanging around, they’ve got a way to keep an eye on him and maybe they can teach him responsibility.

Uh, maybe. As Captain Marvel points out the damage to the mansion is from Hercules, not the Beyonder.

Captain Marvel: “We may be superhuman, but we still make mistakes! How do we set an example for a being who for all practical purposes is omnipotent?”

Captain America: “I don’t know, Marvel. Admittedly, I can’t imagine a task more difficult than coaching the Beyonder... but I’m afraid it’s the best solution we have. After all, if the Avengers can’t do it... who can?”

Maybe the Fantastic Four.

This is superficially similar to when they had the Impossible Man living with them. But the Avengers are living at the Mansion currently too so it’d be about the same thing really.

Also, a funny little bit, Captain America points out that the Beyonder hasn’t committed any “major crimes”, just caused obscene amounts of property damage and trespassed places.  I think it explains a lot about the Avengers that they don’t consider exploding a chunk out of Project Pegasus a major crime.

Anyway, while the Avengers were taking a sidebar about this idea, the Wasp has been explaining the concept of the Avengers to the Beyonder.

She doesn’t say it in as many words but its the Earth’s mightiest heroes banded together to fight threats they couldn’t handle individually spiel. With some responsibility talk thrown in.

After she finishes her explanation, she asks if the Beyonder is interested in joining.

He is interested since the Avengers are some of the most interesting of the people he’s encountered but decides that he doesn’t want to get tied down to one place when there’s still a whole fascinating world out there to experience.

But to not be a dick he uses his EXTREME POWERS to fix everything that got broke as a result of his visit. And then he teleports away.

Leaving the Avengers a bit concerned about the whole thing.

Hercules: “He is well named. His power is as far beyond that of the gods, as the gods are beyond the ant. What are we to do now?”

Captain Marvel: “I guess the only thing we can do is keep as close a tab on the Beyonder as possible... and try to keep him on the side of the angels!”

Captain America: “I hope that will be enough, C.M., because if the Beyonder’s power should become corrupted -- it could well mean the end of everything!”

Stop reading ahead in the script, Cap.

Okay, so. As an individual issue, as a single story, that wasn’t only not bad, it was enjoyable. Having the Avengers inadvertently trolled by an omnipotent being who thinks he’s being helpful is great fun.

I’m sure that there were some clunkers in the massive pile of Secret Wars II tie-ins and even if every issue were solidly okay, I bet it’d be frustrating to not be able to escape the event.

Kind of like modern events actually.

But its what I mean when I said that at its core, Secret Wars II had some solid ideas. An omnipotent being farting around Earth and slowly developing from what he learns is a solid idea. And as in this issue, a fun idea.

And I will continue to interact with Secret Wars II only as much as it concerns the main Avengers book.

Follow @essential-avengers​ for all your Avengers content. I think there’s a Secret Wars II podcast so if you’re curious in the rest of Secret Wars II maybe look for that. Like and reblog because I gave a helpful, vague suggestion.

#Avengers #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #Secret Wars II #the Beyonder #the Wasp #Captain America #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #Hercules #Black Knight #Starfox #they need a new member to replace Starfox so why not Beyonder?

[kumeko]

Title: Garreg Mach Yearbook Chronicles

A/N: For the @garregmachzine I got to write four different snippets. It was a fun challenge trying to cram everything into a drabble.

Featuring: Leonie's troubles with Seteth and Flayn, Hilda charming Ferdinand to escape battle, Annette dealing with a club composed of Linhardt and Marianne, and Claude dodging Hubert's censor.

…

…

…

…

Fishing Tournament

Sitting on the banks of the pond, Leonie watched as her bobber dipped in and out of the water, floating idly along an invisible current. With any luck, she’d catch a fish soon. A big one, hopefully. Usually by now she’d have caught at least one or two, but then usually she was also alone while she fished. Leonie cast an eye around her, biting her cheek at the sight of her fellow classmates. Despite how early in the morning it was, it felt like half the monastery was sitting along the pond, trying their best to catch a fish.

Then again, it wasn’t everyday that Seteth held a fishing contest. After all that’d happened in the past few months, she couldn’t deny that they needed a break like this and it seemed that everyone else agreed. Byleth sat at the docks, quietly fishing. Next to her, Sylvain lost his balance and flailed as he struggled to keep out of the water. In the distance, she spotted Caspar and Raphael comparing their catches.

“I see you are also entering the fishing contest,” a slightly musical voice asked from behind her. Startled from her thoughts, Leonie looked up in time to catch Flayn as she sat down next to her. Like, right next to her. Smiling softly, Flayn clasped her hands together as she stared at Leonie’s rod. “Did you catch anything?”

“N-not yet.” Leonie shook her head, feeling a little awkward at the proximity. Maybe if she shifted the other way—

“That is a pity.” Seteth slowly sat down on her other side, a fishing rod in hand. He cast his line, his eyes on her the entire time. “It will not be much of a contest if there are no entries.”

Leonie resisted the urge to get up and run. What was it with these siblings, pinning her in like this? She felt sandwiched, with no way to escape. “I’m sure someone will manage to catch a good fish or two. Give me an hour, and I’m sure I can wrangle up a few myself.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Flayn clapped her hands. “However, that leaves a different problem. We’ll have all these fishes, and no one to cook them.”

Leonie swallowed. This was starting to sound familiar. “There are plenty of cooks—”

“Leonie has excellent skills,” Seteth suggested, as though he’d just thought of it. “Maybe she could?”

“Really?” Flayn lit up, before flashing her an innocent smile. “Leonie, would you mind?”

She should have just listened to her instincts and run.

-x-

Crest Studies

When Annette joined the academy, she had never seen herself leading a club, or leading anything for that matter. Sure, she would join one or two, but leadership was for the elites, for Dimitri’s and Sylvain’s of the world. Well, maybe not Sylvain exactly, but there were plenty other nobles who could fit the bill. Ferdinand. Lorenz. Hubert.

Yet it was her, not them, standing in front of the Blue Lions classroom, looking at her Crest Studies clubmates. To be perfectly honest, when the other options were the lazy Lindhardt and the shy Marianne, if Annette didn’t take the lead, nothing would get done. Even now, Lindhardt was dozing on his desk while Marianne fidgeted nervously.

Annette bit her cheek. She should have joined the gardening club. Clearing her throat, she announced, “For today’s activity, we’re going to the market.”

“W-what?” Marianne’s eyes grew wide. Sometimes, it looked like she didn’t know why she was in the club. “The market?”

“Why?” Lazily, Lindhardt lifted his head and gave her a baleful glare. “That’s a waste of effort.”

From the teacher’s desk, Professor Hanneman gave her thumbs up. At least someone liked her proposition. Annette quickly refuted, “It’s not.”

“We study crests,” Lindhardt replied languidly. “It’s a waste.”

Something about him always riled her up. She could feel her hackles rising. Stalking toward him, she rested her hands on her hip and bit out. “It’s not. We need to know what people think of crests.”

“Annette’s right.” Hanneman nodded sagely, intervening before an argument started. “It’s important to consider different perspectives when studying a topic.”

“But talking to people…” Marianne gnawed on her lip. “I’m not sure—”

“It’ll be fine.” Annette clasped Marianne’s hands, squeezing them tight. “Besides, we’re going to interview later, so this is good practice.”

Hesitantly, Marianne nodded. “I-I suppose that’s true.”

“Can’t we just interview now and get it over with?” Linhardt interjected, yawning.

Annette pulled Marianne up to her feet. “We’re going to the market,” she stated firmly, refusing to broker any more arguments. “If you want to decide what we’re doing, then you be the club president.”

It was an ultimatum he’d never take, and they both knew it. With a sigh, he got up. “Fine, I suppose there’s some merit to it.”

“Good.” Annette grinned as she gently tugged Marianne toward the door. Finally, she could tell Mercedes that they’d done something other than sit in a classroom. Finally, just like all the other clubs, she was going to go out with her clubmates and do something fun.

Perhaps there was some merit to being club president, after all.

-x-

Battle of the Eagle and Lion

I’d say it is an honour to write about the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, but that was before so many of my drafts got mysteriously burned or destroyed because if I happen to make any unflattering comments about Edelgard, I have to start over. Though I would argue they aren’t disparaging, but who am I to argue with her guard dog, Hubert?

So what can I say about the Battle? Well, I guess the obvious—all three of our houses showed what they did best: Edelgard with her strategies, Dimitri with his training, and me with my ‘schemes’. I call them strategies, others call them traps, to-may-to, to-mah-to. Honestly, I didn’t do anything sinister this time around. If a lot of students just happened to get a case of mild food poisoning, well, things happen. Raphael got it too and you don’t hear me complaining about sabotage.

Let’s see, something flattering—ah, I know! It’s actually quite impressive how much Edelgard was able to move despite her illness. Honestly, if someone had poisoned, they’d better know to up the dosage next time. Despite her thinning ranks, she managed to set up her classmates quite skillfully, and Hubert somehow managed to do a lot of damage despite looking like he needed to find the closest toilet.

Of course, Dimitri powered his way through the food poisoning. I think he’s got the strength of a dozen soldiers, or boars as Felix likes to put it. Felix also managed to move, but I think that was purely out of spite. It’s amazing what a motivation spite is. Then again, I think Hubert would know all about that, wouldn’t he?

My house, of course, were the cleverest of the bunch, carefully goading out our enemies and defeating them one by one. Despite losing our strongest member, we rallied around each other and fought back. It was a close fight by all reckoning. And honestly if Edelgard lost (notice I said if, Hubert!), it wouldn’t be all that shameful, considering the handicaps she had.

Now, you might be wondering who actually won? Why it’s (scorched words) of course! Was there ever any doubt?

-x-

Mission Battles

Out of all the school activities she was forced to do, Hilda disliked the missions and mock battles the most. With the others, she could get away with appealing her classmates into helping her, whether it was Marianne in the library or Raphael with the stables or some other poor, hapless soul who crossed her path. As long as it was done, no one was the wiser.

On the battlefield, she wasn’t quite as lucky. No one could protect her the entire time and her charms were entirely wasted on the enemy. It wasn’t like they’d stop fighting her just because she asked.

Or maybe, if she—no, no, it was best to banish that thought. Hilda gripped her axe as she studied the battlefield before her. Just ahead of her was a bandit and unfortunately, there was no ally in sight to protect her. She was going to have to cut this one down herself. “I don’t suppose you’d back down?”

The bandit roared in response, charging at her.

“Step back!” Ferdinand quickly dashed ahead of her, his sword gleaming in the sunlight as he slashed down on her foe. With two quick strikes, the bandit was down and her rescuer looked at her triumphantly over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes! Thanks so much!” Hilda clasped one of his hands and gave him a soft smile. She stood corrected—she could absolutely charm her way through a battle, as long as it was one of those rare cross-house battles.

“No problem.” Ferdinand smiled brightly, before looking over his shoulder at Edelgard. “As you can see, I have struck down another enemy. That brings my count to higher than yours, does it not?”

“We’re in the middle of battle, Ferdinand,” Edelgard warned, axe clenched tightly in her hands. “We’re not competing.”

“Considering how one-sided it is, I could hardly call it a competition.” Ferdinand sniped, trying to pick a fight as usual.

Judging by Edelgard’s weary expression, his taunts still didn’t work. Determining that Hilda was safe enough, Ferdinand once more returned to Edelgard’s side, no doubt challenging her once again. It was impressive how he didn’t give up. A little sad, but impressive.

If he wasn’t going to give up, neither would she. There was bound to be another sucke—noble man willing to lay his life for a damsel in dress. Catching sight of a flash of red, Hilda smiled. “Oh, Sylvain!” she called out, batting her eyes.

Perhaps she could charm her way out of fighting too.

#fe3h #hilda valentine goneril #claude von riegan #annette fantine dominic #leonie pinelli #seteth #flayn #marianne von edmund #linhardt von hevring #ferdinand von aegir #fanfic

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 13

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Look what’s back again!  I’ve got another three chapters written now, so that’s approximately three weeks’ worth of content coming along (provided I remember to post!)  Sorry for the delay on this one, TOS!Scott and TOS!Virgil decided to be rather tricksy, but I finally got them wrangled!

<<<Chapter 12

Other-Virgil was just leaving his room as they turned the corner, a sketchbook in hand.

“Oh, hello there,” he said.  Scott didn’t miss how his eyes flicked to his brother for a moment.  “Successful trip?”

Scott shrugged, spreading his arms slightly to show that he wasn’t wearing Other-Scott’s clothes any more.  “Successful enough,” he said.  “There’s more on order, but we managed to find some things to bring back with us now.”

Brown eyes, painfully familiar and just like Virgil’s, glanced over his outfit.  He didn’t comment, but it was obvious that like Other-Scott, Other-Virgil found his idea of casual clothes to be different.

Well, at least it meant no-one was going to be muddling them up any time soon.

“That’s good to hear,” the man said, glancing towards his brother again. Scott glanced across as well, wondering if Other-Scott was sending him any cues.  His doppelgänger seemed quite content to stay out of the conversation, although he likewise wasn’t leaving them to it and carrying on to the games room without Scott.  “Tin-Tin said I should talk to you,” Other-Virgil continued.  “She said something about appearances?”

His voice raised questioningly at the end and Scott recalled Other-Gordon making a similar suggestion back while the others had been out on the rescue.

“Appearances?” Other-Scott asked.  “What does she mean by that?”

Scott sighed, realising that he hadn’t mentioned to the others about the different appearances yet, and rubbed his face with one hand.

“My brothers don’t look like yours,” he explained.  “Not as much as we look alike, anyway.”

“They don’t?” Other-Scott asked.  “That’s strange.”

“Tell me about it,” Scott agreed.  “Gordon – your Gordon – suggested I talk to you about it,” he continued, nodding at Other-Virgil.  “I guess Tin-Tin got there first.”

“Not ‘our’ Tin-Tin?” Other-Scott jumped in.  “You differentiate the fellas, but not her?”

Scott shrugged.  “I don’t call mine ‘Tin-Tin’,” he explained.  “We call mine Kayo.”

“Kayo?” Other-Virgil asked.  “That’s a mighty strange name.”

“You’d think her a strange woman,” Scott replied.  “I wouldn’t say she’s nothing like Tin-Tin, but the similarities are a lot more subtle than between you guys and my brothers.”

“Interesting,” Other-Scott commented.  “You’ll have to tell us about her.”

Scott chuckled, remembering Tin-Tin’s reaction to his attempts at describing his sister.  The men were likely to be even more horrified.  “At some point.”  He turned back to Other-Virgil.  “So, did you want to do this now?”

“Whenever works for you,” Other-Virgil said.  “If you’re busy with Scott now, we can do it later.”

“He was just coming to watch me remind Gordon which one of us is the billiards champion,” Other-Scott said.  “You’re welcome to join us if it won’t disturb your concentration.”

“I think I can draw with you two in the room.” Other-Virgil rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t be the first time, if that’s okay with Scott?”

He found himself pinned with both blue and brown eyes and wondered if this was how Gordon and Alan felt when they were on the receiving end of him and Virgil. “Sounds good,” he agreed.  The idea of staying in the vicinity of Other-Gordon for a while longer, as he found his feet properly with the rest of this universe’s Tracy brothers, was a comforting one now that the younger man had fully proven himself on their semi-disaster of a shopping trip.  He wondered if Other-Scott suspected that – whether or not he did likely depended on what, exactly, Other-Gordon had told him down in the hangar.

“Come on, then,” Other-Scott said, leading the way along the hallways – Scott once again finding himself passing the door to the lounge and hoping Not-Dad wasn’t going to appear – and down the stairs.  “Laundry room’s here,” he said, pausing and sliding open a door.  “You can just put them in here and Kyrano or Grandma will deal with them.”

Scott padded into the room, glancing around at the contraptions that had to be washing machines, although just like everything else, they didn’t look much like the technology Scott was used to.  What was at least somewhat familiar was the splash of blue in an open wicker basket – while not identical to his own uniform, it was clearly this universe’s IR blue.  It was also smeared with dirt and clearly waiting to be washed, so he dropped Other-Scott’s borrowed clothes on top, fighting the inquisitive desire to get a closer look at the uniform.

Making sure that this universe’s International Rescue knew what they were looking for if any of his brothers had somehow also fallen through trumped his own curiosity and he retreated back into the hallway where Other-Scott and Other-Virgil were waiting for him, before they all entered the games room.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Other-Gordon commented as the door slid open.  He had his back to them and seemed to be poking around with the balls.  “What took you so long?”

“I thought we’d like an audience,” Other-Scott shrugged, and Other-Gordon spun around.

“What did you do to prompt all this?” Other-Virgil asked him.  “You’ve not even been on the island for several hours.”

“Precisely,” Other-Scott said, striding forwards and selecting a cue from the wall, which he inspected carefully.  “Gordon, off the island for several hours and more or less unsupervised.”

“Not entirely unsupervised,” Other-Gordon protested, as Other-Virgil moved further into the room and settled in a chair by the chess set.  Taking the cue, Scott followed and sat himself in the other.  “If we didn’t already have Brains and John’s word that he’s you from another universe, I’d be suggesting it myself after that trip.”

Scott thought that was a bit of an exaggeration, considering how off-centre he’d been the entire time, but he appreciated the words regardless.

“Another me or not, that didn’t stop you telling the world you could – and did – beat me at billiards,” Other-Scott pointed out.  Other-Virgil choked back a laugh that showed just how unlikely that scenario was in reality.

Other-Gordon seemed entirely unrepentant about that, which didn’t surprise Scott in the slightest.  “We can always make that true now,” he said.  “Ready to play?”

In answer, Other-Scott headed for the table and scrutinised the balls his brother had been poking at.  Scott suspected he was checking for sabotage.

Other-Virgil rested his sketchbook on the table, drawing Scott’s attention away from the billiards table and towards the blank paper.

“How about age order?” the brown-haired man suggested. “Should we start with John?”

“Might as well,” Scott agreed, staring at the blank page and trying to find the words to explain just how his John differed from Other-John.  Without another word, Other-Virgil started to sketch. Scott blinked, not expecting him to begin before he’d started describing his brother, but it didn’t take long for him to realise that it was a sketch of Other-John that was forming on the paper, rough and ready to be amended.

Watching him was oddly relaxing – Scott had never been an artist himself, but he had memories of watching both parents and Virgil sketching throughout his life.  The sight and sound of graphite over artist’s paper was familiar, homey, and Scott propped his head on his palm and tried to focus more on what was being drawn than the emotions it was drawing up.

The background clack of ball hitting ball, and smug brotherly noises as Other-Scott presumably made good on his promise to teach Other-Gordon a lesson, helped him keep his mind in the present.  He glanced away from the rough sketch of Other-John to see Other-Scott grinning triumphantly at Other-Gordon as the two brothers set up a new game.  One victory for Other-Scott, it seemed.

“I thought it would be easier to start with a base,” Other-Virgil said suddenly, snapping Scott’s attention back to the now-complete sketch.  “Tin-Tin’s recounts of your descriptions suggest you’re just as bad as our Scott in that regard.”

“I have you for anything to do with art!” Other-Scott called over, and Scott grinned ruefully in agreement.

“He’s not wrong,” he shrugged.

Other-Virgil shook his head, and tapped the paper with a finger.  “We’ll get to colour later,” he said, “but what changes do I need to make to the sketch?”  He spun it around until Scott was looking at the sketch the right way up, and he squinted at it.

It was clearly John, but at the same time not.  The challenge was picking out what made it different to his brother, exactly.

“What do you mean, colour?” Other-Scott called across.

“I thought you were teaching Gordon a lesson?” Other-Virgil retorted.  “Keep getting distracted and he might be the one teaching you a lesson.”

Other-Scott chuckled, and then there was another clack as they started playing again.

“John’s… younger,” Scott settled on.  “Slightly less angular, maybe?”

Other-Virgil whisked the paper back around to face him and started changing lines. “How old?”

“Twenty-five,” Scott said, watching as the sharpest edges to the sketch were smoothed out slightly.  It was a good thing Other-Virgil, just like Virgil, was so artistically adept, because Scott knew his descriptions left a lot to be desired.  He really wasn’t an artist.

It was a long process, as Scott frowned at lines and Other-Virgil redrew and redrew them again.  He knew exactly what his immediate brother looked like, of course, but descriptions had never been his strong point.  Thankfully, Other-Virgil was patient and seemed to have expected Scott to be pretty terrible at them.

In the background, the clacking of balls hitting balls continued, complete with commentary and occasional brotherly snipes.  Scott wasn’t sure how many times they’d played by the time Other-Virgil finished his latest redraw of a line of John’s hair, and a lump formed suddenly in his throat.

“That’s him,” he said around it, trying to swallow it down before any of the other men in the room noticed.  “That’s John.”  Still in the grey and white of a sketch, his genius of a brother stared out of the paper at something in the distance, intent and determined.  It was a painfully familiar expression, one Scott saw most often on rescues, when his brother was amassing more data even as he talked him through what he already had.

A hand slammed down to cover the sketch and Scott blinked.

“Gee, really, Virg?” Other-Gordon quibbled from where he’d suddenly materialised right next to Scott.  Next to him, and peering over Other-Virgil’s shoulder, was Other-Scott.

“You fellas can see it once it’s coloured,” the artist said firmly.  “And not one moment before.  Go back to your game.”

Both brothers grumbled good-naturedly, but did as they were told and retreated back to the billiards table.  Other-Virgil pulled his hand back and looked up at him.

“I don’t have my colours here, so what do you say about doing all the sketches now, and then we’ll go to my room to sort out colours later?” he suggested.

Once again caught by the sketch of his brother, fiercely determined and no doubt wearing that exact face right now, wherever he was, Scott just nodded numbly.

It was gently tugged out of sight as Other-Virgil turned to a fresh page in his sketchbook and started drawing again.  This time, Scott was anticipating the appearance of Other-Virgil in graphite so it wasn’t a surprise when he formed out of lines of graphite on paper. The artist was clearly used to self-portraiture as the sketch was just as flawless as Other-John’s had been; it was almost a shame that he’d have to completely alter the hairstyle this time – Other-John’s wasn’t all too dissimilar to John’s, but the two Virgils appeared to have markedly different ideas on hairstyle.

Even before the sketch was presented to him, Scott reached across and tapped the brow.  “Same scar,” he said, noticing that Other-Virgil hadn’t bothered to add that in, presumably because he hadn’t expected something like a scar to carry across universes. It was a fair assumption, especially as Other-Gordon had already made an observation about how his own scars differed from Other-Scott’s, but in this particular case a wrong one.  Scott wondered if, like the hydrofoil, the cause was also the same.

Other-Virgil’s eyebrows raised, showing off his scar particularly well, but he dutifully added it in.

“Also younger?” he asked, and Scott eyed the paper critically.  The sketch was spun around so he could see it better, and he nodded his thanks.

“Twenty-three,” he confirmed.  “But don’t soften the cheekbones much.”  Other-Virgil made a noise of comprehension and took the paper back to begin the long process of amending it to Scott’s awkward specifications.  “And you might as well scrap the hair entirely,” he added.  Other-Virgil paused and gave him an incredulous look.

“There’s no similarity there at all?” he asked.  Scott shrugged and peered again.

“Maybe the hairline,” he allowed.  “But completely different hairstyle.”

He got a contemplative noise for that, but Other-Virgil dutifully erased most of the hair, leaving just enough to keep the head shape obvious, before following Scott’s instructions to amend the face shape until he was happy it was his Virgil, and not Other-Virgil looking out of the paper.

“However does he keep his hair like that?” Other-Virgil commented when they finally reached the hairstyle, the sweeping peak taking shape on the paper after several amendments as Scott tried to get it just right.

“By stealing my hair gel,” he replied dryly, “and short circuiting the entire island’s power with his hairdryer.”  Gordon was not the only one who remembered that incident well, even if Scott usually refrained from mentioning it – it wasn’t like he needed to, what with the squid bringing it up at every opportunity.  One day Virgil was going to make minced squid out of their brother, and it was probably going to have something to do with that incident. Probably.

Other-Scott chuckled, proving that he was still eavesdropping even as he continued to thrash Other-Gordon at billiards.  The younger man sounded like he was getting quite tired of being defeated, although he hadn’t yet begged off entirely.  Then again, Scott suspected Other-Scott wasn’t the only one using the game as a pretence in order to listen in.

Other-Virgil ignored them as he once again redid a line in Virgil’s hair, and Scott did likewise, although in his case it was mostly because Other-Virgil had once again taken his breath away with a likeness of one of his brothers. Unlike John, Virgil was looking straight at him, greyscale eyes still warm and the slightest bit concerned, mirrored in the set of his jaws.  It was another painfully familiar expression that Scott had found himself on the receiving end of many times.

“That’s him,” he said after a moment, once his lungs remembered what to do. Other-Virgil hummed and flicked the page over before the other two could make it over.

“Aww,” Other-Gordon protested when he realised.  “Not even one peek, Virg?”

“Once they’re coloured,” his brother said firmly, “and not one moment before.”

“But it’s his version of me next, right?” Other-Gordon whined.  “You gotta let me see that one, Virg!”

“Once they’re coloured,” Other-Virgil repeated.  “If it’s too much of a trial for you, I’m sure you can leave. Aren’t you tired of losing yet?”

Other-Scott laughed again from where he seemed to be setting up another game. “He still thinks he can beat me if we play enough times.”

“I will beat you,” Other-Gordon vowed, heading over to the table again.  “My turn to start.”

Other-Virgil rolled his eyes once the ginger had his back to them.  “Say, how about we skip Gordon and come back to him later?” he suggested, a gleam in his eyes that was all-too familiar.

“Virg!” came the complaint from the brother in question, and despite himself, Scott found himself grinning just a little, even if the familiarity of the banter ached.

“We can do Alan next,” he agreed, although something heavy and unpleasant settled in his stomach as he realised he wouldn’t be able to dodge just how young his Alan was for much longer.

Despite the words, it was still Other-Gordon that appeared from Other-Virgil’s pencil, and the artist grinned at him conspiratorially.  Scott returned it, although he was fairly sure it was weaker than it would normally be.  Other-Virgil didn’t comment, or even raise a concerned eyebrow, however, so he assumed he’d got away with it.

“Younger again?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott nodded.  “Squarer jaw, but don’t soften the face,” he said.  “He’s all angles.”  Sharp cheekbones, sharp jaw, sharp wit.  There was a lot of sharpness with Gordon, although like all of them he was soft where it counted.  Squinting at the sketch as Other-Virgil made the amendments, Scott realised that while their eye colour was identical, one of the biggest differences to their faces was in fact the eye shape.

As with everything else, describing that was difficult, and Other-Virgil had to erase the same lines over and over again as between them, they tried to get it right.  Then, of course, it was the hair, and it was quickly apparent that Gordon – and Alan, when they got there – had a hairstyle that Other-Virgil struggled to even conceptualise in his head.  In this universe, it seemed that bangs always flopped down, not out.

“More hair gel?” the man asked, resigned, as he erased the lines of Gordon’s bangs for the umpteenth time.

“More hair gel,” Scott confirmed.  “The other one is similar, by the way.”

“I will get this,” Other-Virgil said, low and determined.  The stubbornness was just as familiar as everything else about his mannerisms.  So far, Scott was getting the impression that while he might be a little quieter than Virgil, Other-Virgil was otherwise almost the same in temperament.

“His Alan giving you trouble?” Other-Gordon called across.  Other-Virgil ignored him as, with a set jaw, he once again amended his lines.

“Almost,” Scott encouraged.  “That’s close.”

“I’m not settling for ‘close’,” Other-Virgil told him firmly.  “What’s still wrong?”

Scott surveyed the art critically, before pointing at a line.  “Here,” he said.  “Maybe loosen it up a little?”

Other-Virgil erased it and drew it again, and Scott found a familiar, fond smile creep onto his face.  “That’s him.”

Like Virgil, Gordon was looking straight out of the paper at them, full of mirth and a little cheeky, like he’d just set a prank and was waiting for someone to fall into it.  Unlike John and Virgil, who had both ended up drawn wearing expressions they’d wear on a mission, Gordon was all home comfort.

Scott decided not to think to hard about what their resulting expressions implied about his mental state.

Other-Virgil eyed it triumphantly for a moment, clearly basking in his success of finally nailing the unfamiliar hairstyle, before turning the page and starting to sketch out Other-Alan.

“Last one,” he said.  “He has a similar hairstyle to your Gordon, you say?”

“What?” Other-Gordon demanded from over by the table.  There hadn’t been any clacking of balls for some time, Scott realised, and he glanced over to see both brothers were leaning against the table, watching the pair of them from a distance.  “You mean that was your Gordon you just finished?”

Other-Virgil grinned at him.  “I’m doing his Alan now,” he said, and Other-Gordon whined dramatically. Other-Scott shifted his weight against the table slightly and rolled his eyes fondly.

“You should have known Virg would do that,” he said.  “And aren’t you the one that keeps saying Scott’s just like me?”

Other-Gordon grumbled.

“I didn’t expect that to mean he’d be able to fall in so seamlessly with one of Virgil’s schemes,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” Scott shrugged, entirely unrepentant.  Other-Gordon had spent enough time analysing him that catching him out felt a lot like a victory.  From the way amber eyes narrowed, the younger man was well aware of that.

“So,” Other-Virgil said, offering him a rough sketch of Other-Alan.  “How much younger do I need to go?”

Scott swallowed.  “Fifteen,” he said, and was entirely unsurprised when he saw Other-Scott jerk out of the corner of his eye.  “And you might want to make him a little more… smiley.”  Other-Virgil had drawn a neutral expression, which was at least less antagonistic than Scott had actually seen Other-Alan wearing so far, but for his Alan it just felt wrong.

“Younger and happier,” Other-Virgil repeated, taking the eraser to the sketch and all but redoing the entire outline.  “And with a Gordon-like hairstyle.”

What came out of his pencil the second time looked a lot closer, more like a base that Scott could make minor adjustments to than the initial sketch had done.

“He’s fifteen?” Other-Scott asked, and Scott braced himself for the upcoming explosion.  “He’s not a part of International Rescue yet, I assume.”

Scott didn’t answer him, watching Other-Virgil tidy up the sketch before pointing out a line that needed amending.

“He’s not part of International Rescue?” Other-Scott repeated after a few moments, disbelief colouring his voice.  “At fifteen?  He oughtn’t even have all the licenses by fifteen, surely?”

Scott sighed, and pointed out another line that needed changing.  “Alan’s been a fully fledged member of IR for a year,” he admitted.  “He’s got all the licenses he needs.”

“He’s what?” Other-Scott demanded.  Other-Virgil’s pencil stopped, and Scott found himself scrutinised by three pairs of eyes.  “But- how does a fourteen year old get an astronaut’s license?  You’re not telling me he’s Thunderbird Three’s primary pilot in your universe?”

“Youngest astronaut in history,” Scott said, letting the pride he always felt whenever he remembered that fact bleed into his voice and carefully keeping the accompanying panic back.  “John was primary pilot for a while, but he’s always been happiest in Thunderbird Five, and Thunderbird Five really needed a monitor.  Alan proved himself on the sims and we needed a pilot for Thunderbird Three.”

“You couldn’t do it?” Other-Scott asked.

Scott chuckled humourlessly, remembering the hollow guilt that had welled up inside whenever he’d even considered going to space without any of his brothers. That didn’t bear mentioning, however, and there was another, stricter, reason why it hadn’t been possible.  “I’m Alan’s legal guardian.  I couldn’t leave him to go off into space for days or weeks on rescues.”  Or an unknown amount of time in another universe, but he hadn’t had a choice on that front.

“So your solution was to send him off into space?” Other-Virgil asked dubiously, inadvertently cutting off what Scott suspected was about to be a too-accurate remark from Other-Gordon.  Scott shrugged.

“If he’s in orbit, it’s only a day and he’s in range of Thunderbird Five,” he said.  “If he’s leaving orbit, someone – usually me – goes with him.”

“Gee,” Other-Gordon whistled, apparently deciding to keep whatever observation he’d made to himself after all.  “Our Alan’s young enough to send out there.  I can’t imagine him piloting Thunderbird Three as a teenager.”

“He’s a natural,” Scott said, glancing down at the half-finished sketch, currently sitting somewhere between Alan and Other-Alan in appearance.  “If he couldn’t do it, I wouldn’t let him, no matter how old he was.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Other-Gordon said, emphatically enough that his brothers looked at him in surprise.  Other-Gordon didn’t acknowledge them, however, and Scott found himself under another heavy yet understanding look.  No doubt the other man was remembering their conversation in the car about limits.  “I said it before: I bet you’re just as much of a smother hen as this fella is.”  He jabbed a thumb in Other-Scott’s direction and got a lacklustre hey! of protest.  “I’m sure you do a swell job of looking after him.”

A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped a little.  It was Other-Virgil, who was looking at him in some concern.  “Do you want to take five?” the man asked, gesturing at the half-finished sketch.  Scott shook his head.

“I’m good,” he said, peering at the paper again.  Other-Gordon made an aborted noise that could well have been resigned disapproval.  “His bangs go the other way.”

“You fellas have mighty different hairstyles,” Other-Virgil muttered, but dutifully began erasing the lines before pausing to shoo away his inquisitive brothers.  “Are you done teaching Gordon a lesson already, Scott?”

“Not at all,” the older man said.  “Come on, Gordon, if you still think you can win.”

“One day,” the ginger mumbled rebelliously, before moving back to the table to set up another game.  Both his brothers laughed, and Scott found himself joining in.

Alan proved almost as difficult as Gordon to get right, with Other-Virgil again finding the hair the most complicated to get right, but a couple more games behind them later, Scott’s youngest brother was beaming out of the paper at him, wide-eyed in adoration and looking even younger than he was.  It wasn’t the best expression for supporting his case that Alan was perfectly capable of handling a rocket and the responsibilities that came along with that, but it was quintessentially Alan in its essence nonetheless.

“That’s him,” he confirmed, and Other-Virgil surveyed the sketch for several moments in silence before his brothers once again tried their luck at seeing a completed sketch.

“I told you fellas,” Other-Virgil said firmly, closing the sketchbook against their curious glances.  “Not until they’re coloured.”

“Whatever you fellas are up to will have to wait.”  Scott’s eyes snapped to the doorway, where Other-Alan was standing, arms crossed and looking just as displeased as he had in every encounter he’d had with the young man so far.  “Kyrano’s finished making dinner, so it’s time to wash up.”

“Right you are, then,” Other-Virgil said.  “I’ll get these stowed in my room and we can finish after dinner?”  He offered the suggestion as a question to Scott, who saw no reason to disagree and nodded.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

“What are you fellas doing, anyway?” Other-Alan asked suspiciously.

“It seems that we don’t look like his brothers, even though he might as well be Scott’s twin,” Other-Gordon explained, putting his cue in the wall holder. Other-Scott did the same, before stashing the balls away as well.  “Virgil’s drawing them for us so we know what we’re looking for just in case they fell through somewhere.”

“Didn’t John say they’d come through here if anywhere?” Other-Alan pointed out, still standing in the doorway and watching as his brothers tidied up. Scott found his way to his feet and waited for them to finish.

“Yes, but this is an unprecedented event, Alan,” Other-Virgil replied, walking over to him.  Scott followed.  “John’s still got Thunderbird Five looking out for them in case he’s wrong, and we’ll all be looking out as well.  It stands to reason we should know exactly who we’re looking for.”

“Well, I suppose,” the blond said.  Other-Virgil patted him on the shoulder a couple of times.

“Well, I’m off to put this in my room,” he said.  “I’ll be down for dinner in one minute.”  Then he left, leaving Scott standing with Other-Alan by the doorway, waiting for Other-Scott and Other-Gordon to finish packing up their game.

“So, what are you going to be doing until Brains and John find a way to get you home?” Other-Alan asked him.  “Are you just going to laze about the villa?”

Scott raised an eyebrow at him.  “Not if I have any say in the matter,” he said bluntly.  “I’m not a fan of lazing around.”

Other-Gordon choked back a laugh at that, and Scott narrowed his eyes at him.

“Use your head, Al,” the ginger interjected.  “We’ve got some of the best planes in the world here; you think the fella’s going to be content keeping his feet on the ground?  He took a fancy to your Tiger Moth down in the hangars ‘til I told him Scott’s not allowed to touch it.”

“I haven’t seen a Tiger Moth in years,” Scott defended himself.

“Yeah, well, you’re not touching her either,” Other-Alan told him firmly. “No Scotts are getting their hands on that baby.”

“We hear you, Alan,” Other-Scott said.  “Now, come along, fellas.  I, for one, don’t plan on being late to one of Kyrano’s feasts.”  He pushed past them and headed into the hallway.  His brothers and Scott followed, ducking into a small washroom to clean their hands before trailing through the kitchen to where the dining table was set up.

Chapter 14>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #long way from home #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy

[solartranslations]

AF2 Ash Chapter 2 (12/9): North Wind

A few days after Piccolino, it appears as though he has grown fond of the children despite what he says…

~*Scene: Popolarita Street*~

Ash: Ah, it’s so dark out. I’m hungry… Are we heading back for dinner yet?

Felicita: I guess…?

Ash: Why aren’t you sure! Geez, it sure was bad luck that we ran in them…

~*Flashback: Fiore Street*~

Sara: Aww… But I wanted us to pick out presents for Natale together, Miss…

Tinto: Please, just a little longer…!

Sara: Please, Miss! Mister!

~*End Flashback*~

Ash: They said just a little bit, but kept dragging us around… Since when did we switch to being babysitters?

Felicita: But you had fun

Ash: You’re the one who threatened to kick me if I glared at the kids. And now my cheeks hurts…

Ash: I think I smiled too much. I better not get muscle sores from this

Felicita: I think they had a lot of fun too

Ash: Huh? Really? Well, I guess they would. Even I looked forward to Natale when I was a kid

Ash: Joshua would always make sure we celebrated

Ash: He’d even go out of his way to get presents for Natale…but they were all, uh

Felicita: What did he get?

Ash: …It was an encyclopedia once, and a dictionary the year after… And I think I got a fairytale collection before too

Felicita: You look happy about it though

Ash: I’m always happy to gain more knowledge, but Natale only comes once a year, you know? I wanted some variety!

Felicita: Like what?

Ash: Maybe a still, or scales, or test tubes….one of those giant water tanks Jolly has would be nice too. Oh wait, can’t forget an apple tree

Felicita: …

Ash: Hey, what’s wrong with the stuff I want? What about you then?

Felicita: I’ve gotten dolls, hair accessories, and dresses before, but…

Ash: Ah, yeah. With how your dad and that useless hat are, they’d probably give you lots of presents. I can really see it…wait, that’s not it!!

Felicita: …?

Ash: I’m asking what you would want now

>What about you?

(+20 Amore)

>Nothing really

(+10 Amore)

>Anything

(+30 Amore)

Ash: I just said. Alchemy equipment or apples!

Felicita: What else?

Ash: Uh, maybe…wait, don’t answer my question with a question. I asked you first

Felicita: I want to know too…

Ash: O-oh, okay… I’ll think about it and tell you by Natale

Ash: Tell me once you think of something too

Ash: You say that, but you probably only want that kind of girly stuff you mentioned before, right?

Felicita: No I don’t

Ash: Okay. If you say so. You won’t change your mind, right?

Felicita: You’re so pushy

Ash: Ack, I knew it… That’s the worst kind of answer. You’re still going to complain if you get something you don’t like, aren’t you?

Felicita: No. I’ll just be happy knowing the feelings behind the gift

Ash: So that’s why you said “anything”. You really do have the makings of a fine woman

Felicita: !?

Ash: Hah! If that makes you blush then you have a long way to go

Ash: Well anyway, this year, Natale will probably—…

Felicita: Ash?

Ash: Shh… Do you hear someone following us?

Felicita: !

(*meow)

Felicita: That sounded like…a cat?

Ash: Guess so. My mistake then…

(*bam!)

Ash: Felicita!!

(*dash)

Ash: Did you get hit!?

Felicita: No

Ash: Where did that shot come from? From the line of fire, my guess is…

(*bam!)

Ash: Tch, again!

(*dodge)

Felicita: …There, those two on the wall

Ash: Nice, Strawberry Head!

Ash: Hey, I know you can hear us! Stop hiding and show yourselves…!

Man B: No thanks. Sniping is best done from a distance

Man B: We’re just here for the girl anyway. We won’t kill her

Felicita: That voice…

Ash: Yeah. It’s those guys who turned tail and ran the other day

Man A: I remember the lady, but not you. I guess Arcana Famiglia executives would have guards with them

Ash: A guard? For her? That’s funny, she doesn’t need one

Felicita: Yeah

Ash: Alright, time to strike back

Attack!

>Hit

(+40 Amore)

>Miss

(-10 Amore)

(*whish) Felicita: Yah!

Man A: Guh…! That stings

Man B: She really is an executive

(*whish) Felicita: Yah!

Man A: Wow, pathetic. It’ll be a hundred years before you can hit us with that!

Man B: Is that all an Arcana Famiglia executive’s got?

Ash: Shut up. If you’re not scared, then why are you hiding

Vir: *sigh*… Really, it’s such a lovely night and you’re all ruining it

Felicita: Vir!?

Ash: He’s from the Nordia group. Hey, you! Stay back if you know what’s good for you!

Vir: Well, what should I do then? I don’t appreciate my path being blocked while on a stroll

Ash: Come on, seriously… He’s even harder to talk to than sunglasses!!

Vir: *sigh*… I suppose I’ll clean up this mess

Vir: Miracolo di Nascita

Man A: Gaaaah!!!

Man B: Ugaaaah!!!

Ash: No way, that was…

Vir: Oh my. It’s been a while, so I may have used more power than intended

Vir: I apologize. You two wanted to capture them, right? I blew them away but they should still be on the island somewhere. Go look

Ash: …Just so we’re clear. I am not taking orders from an outsider

Felicita: But, thank you for helping us

Vir: *laugh*. You two go well together

Ash: Shut up. What are you even doing here so late? And that move you used…

Vir: A stroll, like I said. …It’s quite late, so be good and go back to the mansion. I’ll see you later

Ash: ……

Felicita: Ash, that move he used…

Ash: You heard it too. Mira-something?

Ash: …It’s been passed down through my family for generations

Felicita: Then, does that mean…

Ash: We’re related…?

Ash: Vir…I did have a relative with that name from hundreds of years ago

Ash: Well, it’s common though

Felicita: ……

~*End of Scene*~

(Continue Common Route)

(Back to Directory)

#ash #arcana famiglia #arcana famiglia 2 #chapter 2 #solar translations #psp game #translation #releases #ohohoho they are related #this gonna be juicy

[pocketramblr]

Oh are we talking about costumes??? I have my own lil mini rant about costumes.

Mainly that they're. Costumes.

Like, no one but heros wear that shit. You're basically painting a huge target on your back while you're in public AND broadcasting your every move to every villain in your area. Like it's all well and good for citizens to see you "doing" your job but villains ALSO can see you. If a villain wants to commit a crime, they'll know exactly when and where the most powerful heros are.

Yes, there are situations where the costuming is useful: Eri knew Deku and Mirio were heros because they were decked out in their costumes and the above mentioned citizen morale. But even if every hero needs a costume, they shouldn't all be wearing them all the time. Even Aizawa, who is an underground hero, wears a getup that immediately outs him as a hero. Toga, Dabi, and Shig minus hands blend into the crowd (pre becoming Japan's most wanted, though I think Toga even without her quirk would still blend in just fine) because they didn't wear stupid costumes.

The point of costumes is to hide the identities of the hero--thats why All Mights costume routine worked, especially towards the end, when he could transform. But then you have heros like the Iidas or Water Hose or Endeavor who wear costumes and have a bunch of information available to the public--last names, addresses, routines (because they wear costumes all the time), oh and can't forget ALL THEIR KIDS INFORMATION. Even without the UA Sports Festival and even if the Iida, Todoroki, and Water Hose households all have water tight security, the children of at least two of the three families were not homeschooled, thus meaning they couldn't just rely on the safety of their homes. And Iidas middle school was recognizable enough that he only needed to say it's name for people to have heard of it.

It would make much more sense for heros to at least use costumes less, if not get rid of them entirely inthese cases--especially for heros who have secrets that REALLY NEED TO BE PROTECTED. And I don't mean All Might and OFA because All Might really didn't have a life outside of OFA pre-Izuku. OFA could be protected by just not talking about it. Compare to Endeavor, who's four kids and civilian wife are public knowledge. He's the number 2 hero and no one thought it would be a bad idea to let the general public know that he had a civilian family? Why are y'all so shocked that Natsuo got attacked by High End? You're telling me Endeavor NEVER prepared ANY of his children on what to do if a villain attacks them? AND THEIR EXISTENCE IS PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE?????

Sorry, that went off from costumes, but it's related to my point. Hero costumes pose a huge safety risk the way they're used in the BNHA universe, especially for heros who have dependants, even if those dependants want to be heros. And getting rid of costumes doesn't mean they have to be completely unguarded; I'm sure support departments can make clothes suitable for hero work but also inconspicuous. And like I said, there are some cases where costumes are appropriate and even necessary. Iida and Todorokis shit first costume give more disadvantages than advantage (we all laugh at Todorokis shit first costume, but they gave him a costume that LITERALLY RESTRICTED HALF HIS MOVEMENT) but Tsuyu and Ochakos costumes are actually, you know, functional (I included Ochako as someone who does need a costume because floating things and then dropping them at high speeds is dangerous and she should be wearing a helmet and protective gear). On the other end, we see Jirou and Kaminaris costumes that just look like normal clothes. Maybe a bit too fashionable to be really inconspicuous, but they do look like stuff non-heros would feasibly wear in normal everyday life.

Another example of how costumes are unsafe is that they focus way too heavily on quirks. We all know Hagakure and Momo's costumes are silly, but they also show a problem in how hero society views quirks. The only thing in mind for their costumes was "how do we maximize quirk use" without any thought to any potential disadvantages. Yeah, Momos costume lets her pull swords out of her tummy easy peasy, but it also lets other people put swords INTO her tummy easy peasy. Yeah, Hagakure is completely invisible without her gloves and shoes, but if she steps on glass, she's gonna be leaving a blood trail, defeating the whole purpose of invisibility. The idea these costume makers have is that any advantage to quirk use trumps any disadvantages, which results in costumes that, if you thought about them for five minutes, are clearly just awful.

Oh jeez this wasn't a little rant. I'm so sorry.

I mean I don't know why you'd expect good parenting of Enji, of course he wanted to show off Shoto and was super neglectful of his middle two children's safety. I do think Kouta is likely homeschooled as well, considering they don't even send him to daycare when all of them are busy training students in their middle of nowhere camp. Eri, most likely to be adopted by Aizawa, is also homeschooled and even without the "end of the world as we know it" arc I expected her to continue being homeschooled once her quirk was handled. The Iida's seem to be the odd ones out, but they're also both super well trained to protect themselves and might not have attended primary school before the fancy middle school- and their costumes do cover their faces at least, though Tensei takes his off for commercials anyway. Maybe their parents were more careful of their identities when Tensei was in school, who knows. Vigs also shows that Aizawa does take off the costume to replace it with disguises when he's on undercover assignments, it's just when he's not... Well I'm not sure if he owns any other clothes to be honest. I don't even think those pink sweats are his, he just stole em.

Anyway yeah the utter lack of secret identities really does a number on the costumes and really narrows the list of like good ones down to: Mic, Snipe, Thirteen. Guess we know which teachers *aren't* the ones signing off on costumes...

#shout out to those three for getting what a costume is supposed to do #anyway so you ever think about how uwabami literally just wears a red gown #girl. what. #not even chiton inspired or having a red mask to match. awful #anon #pocket talks to people #salt #lomg ask #long post

[lu-undy]

Valentine’s day 4 - Hurt and comfort

(Warning for unwanted kiss!) Here it is!

"Gentlemen." 

Spy entered the kitchen and was greeted by his colleagues, sitting around the breakfast table. All acknowledged his entrance with a courteous nod, or a "good morning". All, but one who didn't move. 

Sniper took his coffee mug and exited the room, paying attention to go around the table and avoid contact with Spy. 

"He's still mad at ya?" Engie asked as Spy frowned. He had felt it like a dagger in his chest, Sniper's departure. And he knew it was no mere coincidence that he had decided to leave as Spy entered.

"It would seem so." Spy helped himself to some coffee and sat around the table at his place. The seat opposite him was empty. 

"What's wrong between you two? Maybe we can help?" Engie kindly offered. 

"Non, merci." Spy answered, slightly coldly, his eyes riveted on the empty chair in front of him. 

"Ha, what's it feel like bein' rejected, eh, fancypants?" Scout mocked and Spy put his fingers on the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to contain his rage. 

"Uh, pardner, j-just finish your cereals, right? I can try and order more soda for you after?" Engie tried to calm the storm that he felt incoming. 

"Nah, Engie, c'mon! Not everyday the stuck up Frenchie gets rejected. I wanna know what he feels like!" Scout went on. 

The chatter around the table ended and all the eyes were now on Spy. Spoons and toasts were hanging in the air. The mercenaries knew that Spy wasn't the type to answer Scout's provocations. They expected him to sigh and take another sip of his coffee. 

Instead, he lit a cigarette and started smoking.

"C'mon, Spy! Tell us! And you still got that black eye from your fight with the enemy Snipes, eh?" 

Spy sucked on his cigarette and the smoke burnt his nose and his airway all the way down to his very lungs. It stung him and managed to absorb the boiling rage within him. 

"Scout, please…" Engie insisted. 

"Nah, today, he's gonna feel like one of us. Maybe that's gonna teach him not to be a pretentious piece of crap! See what you feel, Spy? That's how low I felt when I wedged my head through your door to ask you for help with Miss Pauling!" 

Spy finished gulping down his coffee and stood up. He headed for the door. 

"Ha! That's it! Now go away and cry in your fancy mask or something!" 

"Scout." Spy's voice split the room. "You want to know how I feel?" He asked, facing the door and giving his back to his colleagues at the table. 

"Y-yeah?" Scout started to be scared. He hadn't expected Spy to answer his insults. 

"I feel the same way as your father did when your mother decided to leave him." Spy answered and left his colleagues agape as he went out of the room. The noise of the door shutting made all the mercenaries uncomfortable. Their eyes went to Scout. 

"Bullshit! Ma' didn't leave my Dad! It's him who left!"

His colleagues' shoulders sank. Scout's being oblivious was a gift for himself, even if he was oblivious to that too.

Outside of the base, Spy had knocked at the Aussie's door, on his campervan. 

"Piss off." 

"Non." 

"Piss off, or I'll pop your head off." 

"Non." 

Sniper sighed. 

"You can stay there all day if you want, I won't open." 

"D'accord."

[Alright.]

It was Saturday and the mercenaries could enjoy their weekend. Sniper tidied up his van, and kept himself busy, as best as he could. He knew that, stubborn as he was, Spy would indeed stay there, all day if necessary. 

And he did. Smoking cigarette after cigarette, comitting a genocide in his metallic cigarette case. His eyes became red before the sunset sky did. He knew it was all a misunderstanding. He knew it was all useless. But what remained true is that Sniper had seen him, at the end of day's match, the day before. 

As the Administrator announced the end of the round, Sniper was looking for his colleague. Well, colleague… It seemed cold to use that word now. They were more than that, oh so much more. 

After waiting for Spy to show up unsuccessfully, the Aussie started looking for him, going through the battlefield and calling him out. When he found him, his heart sank. 

Spy was being pinned against the wall by the enemy Sniper and receiving attentions that left no doubt as to what was going on...

"Spy…?" 

The enemy Sniper stepped away from Spy and their lips disconnected.

"You can get'im back, yeah, sorry I've been a bit long with him." 

Sniper's jaw had dropped. He had frowned and went back to the base, Spy running after him and shouting for him. The Aussie ignored him and locked himself up in his van, only to reappear the next morning for breakfast…

Spy sighed as he crushed his billionth cigarette butt. He was sitting on the step at the van's back and watched the lights switch on through the base's windows, as the sun sank below the horizon. He could see the shadows of his colleagues through the curtained windows and he stared. 

It was a misunderstanding. He never had wanted to kiss the enemy Sniper. They had been fighting until the very end, hence his black eye. As the Administrator's melodious voice blasted through the speakers, the enemy Sniper knew that if he sliced Spy up, he would die and not respawn, which of course prevented him from doing that. 

Instead, he chose to humiliate him and make him understand that he had won this encounter, even if he hadn't killed him. He had Spy pinned from his throat and the Frenchman could feel something pressing menacingly against his crotch. 

"Will you let me go? The match has ended, in case you were deaf." He said between clenched teeth and struggling to get some air. 

"Not yet, mate, gotta make you get who won this time." 

"I get it. You did. Now let me go-oh?!"

And on these words, the enemy Sniper pushed his lips against Spy who tried to kick him but the kukri pressed harder and he genuinely feared for his life. No respawn would fix him if he pushed his foe too hard. And he hated it. The enemy Sniper was a man that he respected as an enemy until then. Humiliation of that kind was something that Spy didn't think his enemy was capable of.

"Spy…?" 

His teammate Sniper's voice put an end to that filthy and unwanted kiss. When the enemy Sniper finally let go of him - not without snickering - Spy spat out and away. He took a handkerchief to wipe his mouth and ran after his friend. 

His friend. Sniper was so much more than a friend.

"Hm." 

The door opened and Spy jumped to his feet. 

"Sniper?"

The Aussie ignored him and went to the base with his bag of dirty clothes in his hand as if he hadn't seen Spy standing there. The Frenchman's shoulders sank sadly. About an hour later, he came back. 

"Sniper, please?" 

The Aussie put his wet clothes on the line between his van and the base and slipped back inside his narrow dwelling. He didn't say a word, nor did he even look at Spy...

In the end, Spy had stayed there the entire day, smoking like a train, or like a fireman, as they say in French. He stayed as the sun rose to its zenith, he stayed under the scorching afternoon sun, he stayed when the sun went down and under the horizon line. He only stood up once to throw all his cigarette butts in the outside bin of the base. He took advantage of his being standing up to stretch his legs and back before sitting back down. 

"Merde…" Spy cursed, as he realised his cigarette case was empty. He put it back in his pocket and sighed. 

[Shit]

It was ridiculous and had lasted long enough. 

"Sniper, if you don't open that door, I will pick the lock!"

"Piss off." The muffled voice answered. 

"Fine." Spy opened his cigarette case and took the pins concealed inside. He slid them in the lock and started twisting them until he heard a satisfactory click. He pulled the door and entered. 

Sniper was unfazed, lying on his bed, watching the stars through the ceiling window. 

"I need to explain everything to you." Spy said as he put his pins back where they belonged and he shut the door. "I did not exchange a kiss with the enemy Sniper." 

Sniper seemed as though he wasn't listening at all. 

"I did not want to kiss him." Spy raised his head. Sniper being unresponsive got on his nerves. He hadn't eaten all day to say all these things and the other one didn't even dare lend an ear? "Are you even listening?!" 

"No."

"Why?" 

"I know what I saw. You're with him now, go away." 

"Non, I am not and non, I will not."

"Don't keep him waitin'. 's rude." 

"Sniper…"

"Nah, it's fine. Guess I was the idiot. I trusted you and all. But it's fine, no biggie. Just go and leave me alone." 

"Non. I will not leave this van until you listen to me properly." 

"Wastin' your time." He answered.

"Talk about a waste of time when you did not spend the entire day at your door smoking! I skipped lunch and melted under the afternoon sun for a chance to speak to you! I will not leave before I do so!" 

Sniper sighed and sat up on his bed, finally looking at Spy. He came down from his bed and towered Spy. 

"I skipped lunch too. I was locked up here cause of you watchin' and listenin' to my moves all day long. Even for my laundry I had to wait. Bloody ridiculous. So now, if you don't mind, I'd like to sleep in peace." 

"He forced me!" Spy exclaimed. "He had a hand on my throat and a blade between my legs! It even started to rip the silk! Look!" Spy parted his legs slightly to show where the textile had been cut. "All that after the end of the match. He was this close to killing me for good!"

"I knew you liked it rough but eh, whatever."

"Sniper!"

"Right. So he held a knife at your pants and you fell for him and kissed him. Ok, got it. Now, why on Earth are you still here?" 

"You don't get it, you idiot!"

"Oh I think I do. He showed you who's boss, you liked it and boom. I think that sums it up, mate." 

Spy frowned. 

"He humiliated me."

"Some folks like it that way."

"You know very well I do not." Spy answered, his teeth clenched. He sighed. "He forced his lips on me as a way to 'show me who is the boss' indeed, but not in a sexual way, as you are implying it. Non. He would have sliced through me, had the Administrator not called the end of the match. He did that obscene thing to show that he won, to humiliate me. I am grateful no one else saw this."

"Yeah, well, I did."

"And I thank you in part."

"What?!"

"I thank you because God knows what more he would have done if you hadn't intervened! Maybe he would have stayed on my lips in front of his colleagues too? Who knows! I was dying of shame!" Lucien exclaimed. "When he freed me, I spat out his filth and ran after you. But it was too late. Your mind had already processed everything…" He hid his face in his hands. 

"Has he ever done that to you before?" Sniper asked. 

"Non, I swear…! And I would never enjoy that!" Lucien turned his back to Mundy and wrapped his arms around himself. "I don't know what took him today to do that to me. Beyond the disgust, it surprised me from someone who is usually as calm, almost taciturn, as him."

"That's… disgustin'." Lucien turned to face his lover. "We gotta tell the Admin, let her fire him and get him replaced." Sniper said.

"Non, Mundy, please!"

"No!" Sniper exclaimed. "He forced you into something that's not on the contract and not right. Ok, it was just a kiss for show but… Hold on," Sniper closed the gap between them and held Spy's head between his palms, inspecting him. "He didn't put his tongue in, did he? Bugger, I'll make his bloody skull pop in goddamn confetti…! C'mere, Lu'..." 

Sniper wrapped his arms around Spy and kept him close in a dear embrace. 

"I'm sorry, luv'." Lucien removed his mask and Mundy slid his fingers in his hair to comfort him.

"So am I." Lucien answered, burying his head deeper in Sniper's chest. "I am terribly sorry, disgusted and distraught."

"I'm sorry I just saw you and him together and I assumed you just… Ugh, doesn't matter." Sniper tightened his hug. "I'm with you now, and you're safe." 

"Thank you… So much…" Lucien clawed in his lover. 

"It's fine, it's ok, we're gon-"

A knock at the door interrupted them. 

"Wear your mask, luv'." Spy smiled at the sweet name. Sniper handed it to him and stood between the door and his lover. Spy slipped it on quickly. "You ready?"

"Oui, merci."

[Yes, thanks.]

Sniper opened the door. No one. 

"Hey there, pardner."

"Oh?" Sniper's eyes went down and he saw his Texan colleague. "Hey, mate."

"Sorry to bother you. We received a message from the Admin. She said we're on a cease-fire for a week." Engineer explained. "It got announced during dinner but you and Spy weren't here. By the way, do you know where he is? I knocked at his door but he didn't answer." 

"I am here." Spy emerged from the shadows and went by Sniper's side. "Did she explain why this sudden decision?"

"Apparently, it's got to do with replacin' someone who didn't play by their contract on the opposite team." Engie answered.

Sniper and Spy exchanged a glance. 

"I see. Thank you, labourer."

"No problem. Have a nice evenin', fellas." The Texan went away and Sniper shut the door of his van. 

"So, turns out we didn't even have to do anythin', eh." 

"Oui, it seems so."

Both sat on the small couch. 

"Lu'...?"

"Oui?"

Mundy took Lucien's hand in both of his and removed the glove before caressing it gently.

"I'm sorry for what happened. If you wanna, y'know, talk about it or…"

Lucien chuckled.

"I am more affected by the consequences it had on us than the actual act itself. A kiss from someone is rarely a bad experience. But this wasn't a kiss. It was a show of animalistic dominance urged by a will to humiliate me. Bah, I have seen my fair share and will manage to sleep at night. Non, the issue is that you took it the wrong way and you thought that my feelings for you were not sincere." 

"Sorry about it…"

"It is fine. The main thing is that you now know and understand what happened. I care very little about the rest." Lucien answered and leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder. 

They laced their fingers together and stayed there for a while. The van was narrow, but it made it cosy. Mundy's voice broke the periodic sound of their breaths. 

"Lu'?"

"Oui?" 

"So uh… You still love me, right?" 

Lucien smiled and raised his head to his lover. 

"Of course I do. I love you more than any man before." 

"You sure?"

"Oui."

"There wasn't any part of you that… Y'know… Kinda liked it with the other Sniper?" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"Absolutely not. If anything, I lost all respect for him. It is a good thing that he got fired." 

"Yeah…"

"Mundy?"

"Mh?"

"I love you."

Mundy smiled and pulled Lucien to him. 

"I love you too. And I missed you." 

They hugged as if they hadn't seen each other for years. 

"I missed you too." Lucien answered. "I missed you and you-"

The noise of Mundy's stomach growling cut Lucien's sentence sharp. 

"S-sorry. I haven't eaten a thing." 

"Neither have I. Come, we will prepare some dinner." 

Lucien stood up and was about to slip his mask on when Mundy got to his feet in a flash and held his wrist away. He dived straight for the Frenchman's lips and pulled his waist strongly. 

"I love you, Lu'."

"Mh… So do I. Now, let us go before your stomach screams again, hm?" 

"Right. But please cook somethin' edible this time."

Lucien slipped on the mask and his eyes snapped wide.

"Pardon?!" He asked in his mother tongue. "When have I ever cooked something that wasn't?" 

Mundy grabbed his hat and both exited the van. 

"Remember the snails?" He went on teasing his lover. 

"They were exquisite. Your palate was just not ready for such refinement." 

"My palate wasn't ready?! What kind of nonsense is that?! You just cooked bloody snails as if we had nothing else to eat!"

"I beg to differ, Mundy! Not only did we have other things to eat but it is a delicacy!" 

They entered the base and crossed the corridor still bickering. From the living room, some of the other mercs heard them. 

"Guess Spy and Sniper made it up, huh?" Engie said and Pyro clapped his hands enthusiastically. 

"Aye, seems like it, lad." Demo added before taking a swig of his scrumpy. 

Scout raised a curious eyebrow. He wanted to see it for himself. So without adding a word, he rose from the sofa and peeked through the door. 

"Ew!" He jumped back in the living room and resumed his seat on the sofa. 

"What is it, son?" Engie asked. 

"Go and see for yourself, ew!" 

Engie frowned and went to peek through the door. He smiled and tried to make his chuckle as silent as possible. From there, he could see in the dark corridor a man in a suit pressed against a door by a man taller than him and wearing a hat. Their shadows were one.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #dontneedavalentine2021

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Alright, chapter 8! And man is there a lot to talk about here. I don’t really have any pre-content things to say, so we’ll just hop right into it today!

[No. 8 - Rage, You Damned Nerd]

I swear, this first page has a LOT to talk about on it, so I’ll go from panel to panel and do some rambling thoughts on each segment. 

First off, UA doesn’t actually handle the costumes the kids get! It’s support companies affiliated with the school that does - which makes sense, since the school has to focus on teaching their support students before letting them get their hands on actual costumes that these kids might be fighting in.

I mean, they seem to be allowed to practice on like, minor support stuff (read: Mei making Izuku his new gloves post-Nighteye or somewhere around there) but not full costuming, which is… actually a bit reassuring? But also explains some of the lag time in getting costume repairs / upgrades since they’re probably busy companies. It also explains why there probably aren’t major alterations to any costumes besides between the summer and winter variants, since it would be time-consuming to remake these costumes so regularly.

(It still doesn’t excuse some of the costumes the kids got, but that’s more on the whole ‘eye candy’ thing for readers than actual practicality, so whatever.)

(Also, I can’t get over the fact that Snipe has a support company. Fucking Snipe. Guess we know another canon or likely-canon Support teacher.)

Next we get a preview of what the kids sent in for specifications for their costumes:

We get a bit of insight into a few of the characters - as background stuff, we get Shouji, Mineta, Aoyama, and Sato. Mineta got pretty dunked on for char design and costuming, and Aoyama’s costume almost looks like a magical girl outfit like this, which honest to god would have been fantastic to see him in. More interesting (at least to me) are the other three: Ochako, Tenya, and Katsuki.

Ochako first, because that pressure point thing is interesting, and I dunno how often those actually come up in fics besides a passing mention, like. What if her support bracelets / neck piece broke during training / a mission / whatever? Would she suddenly have to fight through the nausea? By the point of current canon (War Arc) she’s probably trained enough that she doesn’t need them as much, but man, it could be an interesting little thing to explore, like, post-Kamino.

Tenya is a bit surprising, since we know he comes from a well-off hero family. Logically, this was before the whole Hosu / Ingenium plotline was really developed, so Tenya didn’t have that to fall back on, or it could be argued that the support company that Ingenium is associated with also works with UA. Alternatively, it could be that either Tenya didn’t want to rely on his family (which seems silly when they’d know how to work with his quirk best) or UA is very firm on ALL costume stuff going through them…

But then again, Katsuki. Oh god, Katsuki. What fucking support company looked at this kid and went ‘yeah we should give him a way to store more explosives AND give him bombs’ and just. Did so. Why did UA not vet that. Maybe the support company didn’t realize how strong his explosions were without the gear, but UA, man, I just. I suppose they had no way of knowing how reckless he’d be with them, but honestly, after the battle trials, they should have been fucking yoinked from him so damned fast. 

Anyways, onto other parts of Katsuki’s costume, we see he’s a fucking dork. Possibly what lowered their guard. ‘Something scary’ and ‘Dynamighte all over’. What the hell, kid. At least your designer stuck close to your design… including the huge-ass clunky gauntlets. Man, the Musketeer Trio movie poster ones are so much better looking and so, so streamlined. Works of art, they are.

Moving on, we get a bit of a flashback to ~three weeks ago, which by the calendar would be around March 20th? So a few weeks after the Entrance Exam. And Izuku is only NOW getting around to updating the quirk registry? Izuku baby seriously, how the FUCK did none of the UA staff notice the ‘quirkless’ on your application form at any point before this?

But yeah, he’s worried about his registry, so he calls Toshinori, who explains the update process. It gives the example of someone who might alter their stuff with updated information, with one or two allowed - though major ones aren’t accepted. Toshinori then says it’ll probably be okay since he started with nothing, then tries to correct himself to ‘definitely’, only to get cut off because Izuku accidentally hangs up in a panic when Inko calls out that she’s home. Haha poor Toshinori, and poor Izuku, the two anxious dumbasses. 

Anyways, moving on from that is Inko showing off the jumpsuit she made, with Izuku surprised. She admits it’s not the coolest, but she based it off of the design in his notebook (the one we saw back in chapter 1). She tells him she regrets giving up on him back then, and how he never quit regardless of her faith. She apologizes and says from there on she’ll be cheering him on with all she’s got. 

Izuku’s narration notes that it’s a symbol of his mom’s love, and that he couldn’t wear anything else, even if it’s not ‘efficient’ or ‘cutting edge’. (Or even at all decent looking.) And it’s also hinted through the present thoughts on it that it’s meant to be an homage to All Might (the smile and the hair pieces) which is just such a dorky thing.

We get to the wide-spread of hero costumes, which- wait a second.

That’s Momo’s initial hero costume design???? Why did Hori not stay with that??? It’s a LOT better than the stuff we’ve seen her in later! Like, sure, it’d still be improved with the main opening being her stomach and not her chest, but this still looks like actual human clothing and not a sexy Halloween costume variant of her hero uniform. Fucking hell, now I’m even more mad.

Tsuyu’s costume meets the approval of the discord server as basically ‘no changes needed’ asides from maybe the goggles being a bit bulky.

Tenya’s costume, I’m sorry, I know it’s an homage to your brother / family, but were the additional pipes really needed? Also, the helmet isn’t a bad idea since he goes fast, and bugs in the mouth/teeth have to suck, but it just looks so damned Gundam-y I can’t help but laugh a little.

Shouto… nah, too easy a target.

Aoyama is Aoyama. I’m actually a bit disappointed now that it’s not a magical girl costume, but alas, I suppose even Hori couldn’t be that brave.

Kaminari… I forgot he had that headset thingy. 

Don’t really have much else to say about anyone else, so let’s move on.

Izuku bugs out a bit about Ochako’s costume/appearance, while she compliments his more practical looks and laments not being specific, saying it’s a bit too puffy and curvy for her. Which means it’s more the accessories which seem to be her issue with it over the main costume itself? Huh.

Anyways, after All Might confirms they’re all there, he notices Izuku’s headpieces, which are a match to his costume, and has to turn to muffle a laugh for how obvious a reference it is. Tenya steps up, asking whether they’ll be doing cityscape maneuvers again since it’s the same field used in the entrance exam. Izuku thinks to himself how cool Tenya’s costume is, while All Might explains that they’re moving onto step two - indoor anti-personnel battle training!

He explains what while villain battles are most commonly seen outdoors, statistically the worst crimes and villains are more likely to be found indoors. Confinement, house arrest, black market deals… the clever villains luck indoors to avoid heroes. Which is why the class will be split into teams of two and pit against each other, heroes versus villains style!

Ah, Tsuyu. Calling him right the heck out, as expected. All Might then notes that in this scenario, the fight won’t be against disposable robots. 

This entire page is just fucking hilarious. The class and all their questions while All Might is shaking with nerves. The fucking cheat sheet he uses to try to get back on track. Him being questioned on the lot drawing, and shaking while Izuku accidentally ends up covering for him. I just. All Might was not prepared for this mess and it shows. He was doing so much better when it was the one on one stuff with Izuku.

But yeah, Izuku notes the scenario is like from a western comic plot, and he’s also the one who ‘realizes’ the lots are like when heroes from different agencies have to team up for emergencies without prior warning. 

Lots are drawn, and we have our teams:

Izuku’s so stressed out because he still can’t really talk to her, while she’s excited to be teamed up and calls it ‘fate’ that it happened. All Might draws the first two teams to participate, and… team Izuku and Ochako (as the heroes) versus team Katsuki and Tenya (as the villains). Both Izuku and Katsuki are alert from this development…

Which makes this a good point to cut off, since it’s halfway through and we got a lot of information to chew on already. Second part should be out this weekend (hopefully). 

#chapter 8 #readthrough #opening arcs #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #iida tenya #yagi toshinori #bakugou katsuki #midoriya inko #class 1a #izuku's first costume was fucking hideous #thank god hori / the support company improved on it afterwards #also shouto #i don't even need to say anything when the fandom has made fun of your for me #also i cannot BELIEVE we were robbed of this momo costume #what the FUCK hori

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Things We Don’t Say (modern AU - Actors)

Summary:  No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit    

Warnings:   This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF 

- or read below the cut - 

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for further updates. 

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4 

Chapter One

Emma scrolled through the email her manager had sent detailing the new role she was being offered. It was something fresh, something different from what she normally focused on—no hint of a police procedural in sight—and based on the tone, it sounded like they were very interested in getting her signed for one of the leads. She stretched her legs out along the couch, digging her cold toes underneath the pillows in search of some warmth, only to yank them back when she encountered something both crinkly and wet.

“Dammit, Neal! What the hell is this?” she growled, glaring at the brown sludge coating her foot.

She leaned forward, careful to angle her toes away from any other surface, and peeled the throw pillow from the couch. Smeared across the white fabric and the expensive leather was what looked like the remainder of a milky way bar, the wrapper still clinging to the puddle of caramel and chocolate.

“You have got to be kidding me. Neal!”

The only response she got was the sound of something hitting a pan full of oil in the kitchen, the apartment filled with the sizzling hiss of something frying. Dropping her phone and forgetting all about the email she’d just been reading, she hobbled down the hall into the bathroom to clean up, wondering how in the hell to get out a chocolate and caramel stain. Why he couldn’t just learn to clean up after himself was beyond understanding. Sometimes it felt like she was living with a teenager who never wanted to grow up, and she couldn’t help but long for the days when her apartment was clean and didn’t smell like whatever weird odor it was that Neal always brought home—grease and cigarette smoke, maybe.

Her foot finally clean enough to be walked on, she headed into the kitchen to get some paper towels only to be greeted by what looked like every dish she owned spread out on the counters and island. Every surface was dusted in flour and drips of batter, measuring spoons leaving trails of oil and sugar across the floor and counters alike.

“Oh my god,” she cringed, knowing the mess would be left for her. “What are you doing?”

“I was wondering when you’d get off the phone,” Neal poked, giving her a quick glance over his shoulder before motioning proudly over the mess that just seemed to get worse each time she looked at it. “I’m cooking.”

The casual way he always stabbed at her phone use was exactly what she didn’t want to hear right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have to spend so much time working if he bothered looking for something himself. He’d had a recurring role on a family comedy when they met, but he’d been fired not long after, and for the last six months, Emma was pretty sure he hadn’t even gone to any of the auditions she’d mentioned. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if he had an agent anymore. 

“When was the last time you had a Milky Way?” she asked, choosing to ignore his snide comment. She just wasn’t in the mood.

“That’s a weird question. I don’t know, maybe last week? You didn’t pick any up the last time you ran to the store.”

Emma nodded, her lips drawn tight as she tore paper towels from the rack and returned to the living room, pulling what she could of the melted mass from the couch and thinking she’d need to resort to Google to get the rest out. Her anger bubbled with every sticky string of caramel that wrapped around her fingers. Why couldn’t he go to the store on his day off? He only had seven of them. She stomped back into the kitchen, hitting the garbage can a little harder than necessary and tossing the mess of chocolate and paper inside.

There was just enough room in the overload sink—what had he used the colander for—that she could wash her hands.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge. What was so important that you had to turn the entire kitchen into a complete disaster?” she questioned, already adding up how much time it would take her to wash and wipe everything down.

She’d be lucky if she was able to get back to her manager before tomorrow as requested.

“You remember that travel show we watched the other night?” he prodded, his eyes glued to the pan as it hissed on the stovetop, a spatula held ready in his hand. “You mentioned you hadn’t had good churros since that trip to Mexico, so I thought maybe I’d make you some.”

The anger that had been just about to boil over slipped away to that place far enough below everything else that she could just go back to ignoring it.  

“Neal,” she sighed, suddenly more exhausted than anything else. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Ems—anything for you.”

In the living room her phone blared to life, the dark tones of The Imperial March echoing as it vibrated across the coffee table.

“Work calls,” Neal sniped, a trace of resentment running beneath the pleasant smile he fixed in her direction. “Wouldn’t want to keep Regina waiting.”

It was amazing how quickly that anger came right back to the top of everything, and she found her feet pushing her as far away from Neal as possible, snatching her phone from the table and forgetting entirely about the couch as she stormed into the bedroom.

“What?” she hissed, slamming the door behind her and clenching the cell like it was something she wanted to crush. “What is so important that you couldn’t give me a few more hours, Regina?”

The other end of the line was silent, as if Regina had either hung up, or was waiting for an apology. Well, she wasn’t getting one—not today.

“Is there something you needed, Regina?”

“Are you okay?” Regina asked, not as a friend, but as an employee that was curious to know how soon she would have to contact Emma’s PR team and inform them a mental breakdown was imminent.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bad time. I got the details you sent. I just haven’t read through everything yet.”

“Well, that explains why I haven’t heard from you. Honestly, I thought you cared more about your career than that. I was quite clear this was urgent. Don’t take your time with this one, Miss Swan—they want you, but they can’t wait much longer.”

The line went dead after Regina had delivered her scolding and Emma sighed, dropping to the bed and rolling onto her back as she flicked back into her email and started again from the top. It was an interesting premise with even more depth than she’d originally thought—a new series that centered on the mental health of a man who had developed delusions after a car accident that took his brother, leading him to believe everyone in the hospital was a character from a fairy tale world—but then she got the part that Regina really focused on, the money.

“Holy shit!” Emma gasped, double checking the figures and thinking how she’d never seen such a good offer—not for someone in her bracket. It was unheard of. “I guess they really do want me.”

It wasn’t until she read through the rest of the itinerary and details that she wondered if the big paycheck wasn’t recompense for the filming location and duration—the middle of Nowhere, Maine, as if Maine wasn’t already considered the middle of nowhere.

She read everything twice before she shot Regina a quick text.  

E: I’ll take it

The message had only just sent and there were already three ellipses following. Emma could practically hear her manager’s smug response.

R: I knew you would. I’ll be in touch.

There should have been nerves fluttering in her stomach, or at least a solid pit of dread at the prospect of having to walk into the kitchen and tell Neal, but there was nothing. It was a big decision to move across the country for what could be a long-term role, but it was still her decision to make.

Hopefully, he would be happy for her, he would understand that this had the potential of lifting her out of her rut and providing great income for the foreseeable future. There were some great names attached, veterans of the industry that were looking to branch out into a new genre.

She was excited for the first time in a long time.  

She didn’t need to feel guilty, at least that was what she told herself as a niggling pang of guilt worked its way into her chest.

It would be good to break it to him gently though, to put a good spin on it.

The minutes ticked by and she finally realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she wandered into the kitchen, her arms crossed in front of her as she looked for him, but the apartment was empty. The stove was turned off and a plate, probably the last clean one, was waiting on the counter with a pile of golden churros perched on top of a greasy paper towel.

Next to it was another torn paper towel with a note scratched onto it in sharpie.

The boys called and I’m heading out for a few beers. Don’t wait up. Enjoy the churros.

She waited for the anger to bubble back to the top, but there was nothing—no anger, no guilt, just a deep, hollow nothingness that grew and yawned as she fingered the scrap of a note transparent with oily fingerprints. Feeling like maybe this job had come at the best possible time, she picked up the plate of churros and walked over to the trash, watching them slide in with the rest of the garbage.

#Captain Swan #cs ff #cs fanfic #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #modern au #actors #the things we don't say

[argylemnwrites]

Facts, Fibs, and Futures

Pairing: Mal Volari x MC (Raina - f!human)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow (Chapter 4)

Word Count: ~3300

Rating: PG-13 (innuendo)

Summary: A evening of games, cards, and fortune-telling gives Mal a better understanding of Raina.

Author’s Note: Wish I had time to do more for @bladesappreciationweek, but happy to have at least snuck this piece in under the wire for Day 7 - MC/wildcard. It’s a little bit about my MC, a little about the gang in their early days, and a little glimpse at some early Mal/MC flirtation.

“...And so I convinced the Contessa of Ditorilla that I was merely a figment of her imagination, conjured up by her deepest desires.”

Raina couldn’t help but snort as she caught the tail end of the undoubtedly false story Mal was spinning for Nia and Tyril as she walked towards them on the deck. She’d been staring at the horizon, trying to calm her stomach. She didn’t want to admit it and give Mal more of a reason to see her as naive, a kit with no experience, but the truth was that the rocking of Gerhard’s ship on the waves left her fairly nauseous. She hoped she would get used to the sensation soon, but in the meantime, she had to resort to attempting simple solutions. Hopefully, the hour she just spent by herself along the railing would be seen as her just wanting to take in the ocean. Not that that would make her seem any less like a damn kit.

“Based on Raina’s reaction, I am going to go with ‘fib’ on that tale.” Tyril’s voice floated through the air, drawing Raina out of her introspection.

“Come on, Kit. It’s bad enough that you are shockingly skilled at this, but now you have to ruin it for me when you aren’t even playing?” She stopped and glanced over at Mal, tipping back in his chair, one foot braced against the deck, the other resting on the edge of the table where he was sitting with Nia and Tyril. When they made eye contact, he winked at her before placing his hand on his chest in mock pain.

“Raina, you should join us!” Nia called out, twisting around in her chair to flash a bright smile.

“Yes, please do,” added Tyril. “This… ruffian has convinced us to play some sort of game where we have to determine whether a statement is the truth or a lie.”

“Yeah, Fib or Fact,” Raina said as she sat down in the free chair between Nia and Tyril, “but you aren’t really playing unless you are drinking.”

“See! Thank you! I told you guys this was a drinking game!” Mal cried out, gesturing across the table to Raina with a flourish. 

Tyril shook his head briskly. “I do not understand the human fascination with needing to create banal games to drink.”

“I don’t know; I think it’s just a fun way to pass the time.” Raina glanced over to her left and gave Tyril a little shrug.

“But we know Elf Boy here would rather die than have fun.”

Tyril opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Nia cut in. “Please, we can’t be at each other’s throats constantly.”

Tyril glanced between Nia and Mal, the openingly-mocking grin plastered on Mal’s face clearly fueling the fire that Nia was trying to extinguish. After a few tense and silent seconds, he gave a terse little nod. “Fine, but if I have to listen to any more stories of his romantic... conquests, I make no promises.”

Nia let out a little sigh. “Good. Well, maybe we should pick a different game anyway, since Raina is always right at this one.”

“Is that so?”

Raina smiled and tilted her head to the side. “I’m very good at reading people. Particularly his Magnificence over there.” She gestured across the table towards Mal, who plastered a fake shocked expression on his face, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, as he mouthed “Me?” before grinning and shooting Raina a wink.

“They played quite a bit on our journey to Port Parnassus,” Nia added. “I think Mal only got her four or five times.”

“Well, nevermind then. Let’s keep playing,” Tyril said, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he glanced back at Mal.

“Nah, don’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities with my more scandalous accounts,” he responded, waggling his eyebrows.

“Does anyone know any other games we could play? I don’t know if I want to gamble again.” Nia said, clearly trying to move past any sniping between the two males of their little party. 

“Awww, priestess. Didn’t enjoy your first taste of betting?”

Her cheeks flushed as she shook her head. “I don’t think it’s for me, Mal.”

"Just you wait. We'll bring out your wild side one of these days," Mal said, winking at Nia before giving her a very genuine looking smile. "Since cards are out, does anyone have any other ideas?"

Tyril didn't move to suggest anything, sitting still, his arms still locked across his armor. Nia kept glancing around the group, a hopeful gleam in her eyes that made it clear that she was counting on someone else to offer up an idea.

Raina found her mind drifting to Kade. He always knew how to entertain a group. He could tell stories, pull out random facts and tidbits of info. He just kept the conversation flowing.

"Maybe we can still use the cards," she said, tilting her head to the side. "My brother would sometimes use the deck to tell fortunes. I think I remember the basics."

"I can do you one better than that, Kit. I happen to be a fortune telling expert." Mal was grinning widely as he shuffled the deck while he stared her down.

"Really." Tyril's deadpan answer conveyed extreme skepticism.

"Yes, really. Are you doubting my skills?”

“As a rule, yes. But doubly so here, seeing as you lack any ability to channel the Light.”

“Don’t need your Light to do this, just pure intuition. So how about it, Elf Boy? Want a chance to glimpse into your future?”

Raina thought Tyril might unsheathe his blade right there, but after a moment he merely shook his head and pushed his chair back as he stood up rapidly. “I’ll pass. Goodnight, Nia. Raina. Vagrant.” And with that he was off, heading below deck without a glance back. Nia looked worried at his rapid departure, but Mal seemed utterly unfazed, leaning forward and letting the front legs of his chair fall to the deck as he spun to face Nia.

“What about you, priestess? Care to see what’s in store for you?”

“Oh! I think I would rather just watch, if you don’t mind.”

“I guess that leaves you, Kit. You up for it, or are you scared of what the cards might hold?”

Raina laughed, leaning across the table and grabbing the cards from his hand. “Oh, I definitely want to see this.”

Mal chuckled in response. “Alright, you’re going to need to pick out seven cards and-”

“Lay them out in a row in front of me; I know.”

“Wow, talk about pushy! You aren’t even giving me the chance to explain how this works to poor Nia.” Mal’s tone was light and carefree, making it clear he had no qualms about letting her get started.

“Seeing how much you love to hear your own voice, I just figured I would actually get to work while you talked her ear off,” Raina replied, throwing Mal a teasing smile as she shuffled the cards and placed one slightly to the left in front of her.

Nia giggled as Mal clutched his shirt and gasped in exaggerated shock. “Raina, you wound me.”

“Something tells me you’ll survive that devastating blow. Nia, have you ever seen this done before?”

She shook her head, watching as Raina placed cards down one by one in a row.

“It’s pretty simple, really,” Raina said, shuffling the deck again before selecting her next card. “I’m supposed to select seven cards that ‘speak to me’ and place them face down in front of me. The first two are said to represent elements of my past, the middle three my present, and the final two my future.”

“Does it work?”

“Of course! Don’t you trust me? Would I make something up?”

“Constantly,” said Nia, causing Raina and Mal to both burst out laughing.

“Slowly but surely, we’ll get you out of your Drakna shell, priestess. It’s inevitable,” said Mal before taking the remaining cards back from Raina. “You happy with your seven?”

“Just get started, Mal. Let’s see if you can back up your bragging with some action.”

“What type of action are you interested in, Kit? Cause I can do a lot-”

“-That’ll make Nia feel real uncomfortable. So how about we stick to the fortune telling for now.”

“For now? Oh, I can work with that,” he said with a wink before pointing to the card Raina had set further to the left. “Alright, first card here is the Base Card. It reflects your origins, your roots.” Mal flipped the card over, showing a village burning, humans crying in the streets, causing Raina’s breath to catch in her throat for just a second.

“The Destruction,” she finally said, trying to hide her shock.

“Yeah. Obviously not a very happy card. In this position, it usually means death and tragedy.”

It was a very fitting card for someone orphaned in a bandit massacre. Raina didn’t quite know how to process it. She didn’t put much stock in things like this. In fact, when she’d watched Kade do this before, he’d never had something so… perfect come up. He usually had to spin things with some very nebulous interpretations to make the cards even remotely work for the person in front of him. But Mal had stumbled into an accurate first card for this reading, and he knew nothing about that part of her past.

“Raina, is that-” Nia started, but she stopped abruptly. Raina glanced up from the card to see Mal shaking his head subtly. Given his reluctance to discuss his own history, it made sense that he could recognize a similar desire in her at this moment.

“Keep going.” Raina said after a few seconds of tense silence. Mal only paused for a second more before he kept going.

“Second card is the Core Card. It is still about your past, but it focuses more on the personal, the fundamentals of your personality more than your background.” He turned over the next card and started laughing as what could best be described as two elves in a very intimate embrace was revealed.

“The Passion. Tell me, Kit - you have a lot of heartbroken lovers pining for you back in Riverbend?”

Raina chuckled, glancing up and staring Mal straight in the eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Absolutely,” he said without missing a beat, causing Raina to laugh in earnest and Nia to cough into her Bristlegreen tea.

“Let’s just say I have no objections to your reading so far,” Raina said with a smirk. Mal joined in laughing at that, while Nia’s cheeks flushed very dark.

“I think I might turn in,” she said, placing one of her hands against her cheek, her bracelet catching the moonlight.

“Aww, sorry priestess. I promise this is the most scandalous card in the deck,” Mal said, giving Nia a contrite little nod.

Nia glanced between Mal and Raina before shaking her head. “No, it’s alright. I’m rather tired, and something tells me the innuendo will find a way to come back with you two.”

“Nia, we’re sorry.”

“Yeah, we can keep it clean… or at least mostly clean,” Mal added with a little shrug that was probably meant as an apology.

But Nia just shook her head. “It’s fine. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She gave them both a gentle smile before standing up, waving as she made her way below deck to their shared quarters.

“And then there were two,” said Mal. “You want to keep going, or do-”

“Of course,” said Raina. “You promised me a glimpse at my future. I expect you to deliver.”

Mal grinned before shifting his hand towards the third card positioned in front of Raina. “This position is the Breaking Card. It’s supposed to represent the turning point that takes you from your past to your present.”

“Kade always said the Breaking Card represented the transition from childhood to adulthood when he did this.”

Mal shook his head. “Sometimes that’s the case, but it is more about growing up in the abstract, not literally aging.” He flipped over the card, revealing an unbalanced scale.

“The Unjust? What is that supposed to mean here?”

“It is usually interpreted to mean an imbalance and loss of stability, an upsetting of how life had been. Sometimes it refers to political upheaval or a change in power structure, but it can also be more personal, like a messy break up or the loss of the family business-”

“Or the entrapment of a brother in the Shadow Realm?”

He glanced up at her, wincing a little bit. “Uhh, yeah. That would apply here.” He moved as if to grab her hand, but apparently thought better of it, dropping his fingers to the table and tapping them restlessly a few times instead. “Do you want to stop, Raina?”

She shook her head. “This reading feels shockingly accurate. Who would I be to turn down a chance at knowing my future?”

He nodded, then moved to the middle card. “Alright, so the middle position is considered the Drive Card. It reflects the biggest event of your present.” The card he flipped over showed white light pouring from above colliding in the center with dark smoke from below. It was the Morality, the card that everyone who did readings like this interpreted as a conflict between good and evil forces.

“Well, that’s easy enough to interpret. Battle between light and dark has to represent our taking on the Shadow Court. Keep going.”

“Woah, I thought I was the one doing this reading, Kit.”

Raina smiled and shrugged. “I told you Kade liked to do this around the tavern. Besides, I’m far more interested in the outcome of the Drive Card,” she said, tapping next to the sixth card.

“Ahh, yes. The Reckoning Card. But first we need to see your Key Card to figure out what part of your present is going to be most important for your future. Shape your journey going forward.” He revealed the Twins, a male and female orc with nearly identical features.

“Well I knew the accuracy couldn’t last,” Raina said with a little laugh. “I know for a fact I don’t have a long lost twin waiting for me out there.”

Mal shook his head. “No one interprets this card so literally, Kit. It usually thought to indicate meeting someone with a… similar soul.” He paused before finishing that thought, almost as if trying to find a less emotional phrasing.

“I’m surprised your head didn’t explode from saying something so sentimental.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules! I’m just the messenger.”

“Uh huh. So I’m going to meet someone very like me and they’re going to define the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, that’s a fair interpretation of this card in that position.”

“So, you’re saying I’m going to meet someone else with a drive for adventure and to see as much of the realm as possible and what? Go into business with them?”

Mal took a sip of his ale without breaking eye contact. “Possibly. The key card is usually read in a more passionate light than that, though.”

“Is this considered a romantic card then?” Raina found herself staring at Mal, unable to break his gaze. 

“For humans, yes. The Key Card in general is often considered to be a romantic card. Or at least it usually gets interpreted that way.”

“So I’m going to fall for my fellow adventurer?”

He kept looking right at her as he said, “Well, that would be the most common way the Twins are read in this situation.”

Things suddenly felt tense and loaded, far more expectant than they had any right to be. Not wanting to dwell on the implications of that card, Raina looked to diffuse the moment. “Of course, given that my Core Card was the Lovers, it might just be that I flirt with this adventurer until the next best thing comes along.” Raina knew she was ignoring the fact that the Key Card was supposed to carry the reading from the present to the future, but she didn’t know how to process the depth of such a statement. Not now, when so much was left to do to defeat the Shadow Court and to save Kade. And certainly not when she was staring at the person she felt more similar to than anyone else she’d met in a long time.

Mal seemed to sense her desire to not address the realities and details of such a prediction, instead laughing at her joke. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em your style, too?”

She smirked as she gave him a coy little shrug. “No comment.”

“Fair enough. I want stories later though, Kit.”

Raina waved him off and shook her head. “Just finish my reading, Mal.”

“A valid subject change, I’ll grant you that. So, you already told me that you know that the Reckoning Card represents the eventual outcome of the Drive Card. Ready to see how things go on your mission of doom?”

She rolled her eyes, but nodded. With how attuned this whole reading had been, she found herself eager to see the next card, almost believing it might actually represent their future.

Mal pulled the card toward him, drawing out the reveal. “Huh,” was all he said before placing the card face up in front of her.

“The Double-Edged Sword?”

“Yeah.”

“Does that mean we defeat the Shadow Court?”

Mal shrugged. “This card usually reflects either a desired outcome at a high price, or a wish come true that causes a new set of problems.”

“So not exactly the greatest card for the Reckoning Card.”

“But not the worst either. It’s often portrayed as a mixed outcome. Most tellers would interpret this as reflecting success when it comes to the Shadow Court, but either after suffering some steep consequences or having to traipse through all three hells. That sort of thing."

“Well, I guess that’s better than outright defeat.”

“That’s the spirit! Surviving by the skin of your teeth is all you need, anyway! Easy success is overrated.”

“And highly unlikely?”

“Yeah, that too. You ready for your final card?”

“Hit me with it.”

“Alright, so the final position is the Unwinding Card. It’s supposed to represent the overall course of your life once you’ve fully moved out of the present.” Mal flipped the final card over, showing a golden, gleaming, cup, letting out a little whistle as he saw it.

“The Golden Chalice feels like a good card here.”

“It’s a great one, Kit. It represents comfort, pleasure, contentment. In this position, it’s basically saying your life will be filled with all you could want in the future.”

Raina nodded. “Well, at least it seems like no matter what the Shadow Court deals us, we come out of it alright. Unless you are just an awful fortune teller.”

Mal chuckled at that, sliding the seven cards back into his deck. “I make no promises for the accuracy of these predictions.”

“Where did you learn how to do this anyway?”

Raina noticed that he swallowed roughly as he tucked the cards back into his sack. “That’s a story for another time,” he said finally. “You ready to call it a night?”

She shook her head. “Not just yet."

"You want any company?"

Raina gave him a smile and nodded. “Sure, that would be nice.”

And so he moved over into the chair next to her, following her gaze as she looked up at the stars. The silence was comfortable and easy and for several moments, she just soaked in the night sky.

“So really, how many jilted lovers are we talking for you?” Mal’s teasing question pulled Raina out of her thoughts. 

She laughed and shook her head. “Let it go, Mal. Some facts are just better left unmentioned.”

“Fair enough, Kit. Fair enough.”

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

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

Blades: @marshmallowsandfire

Mal x MC: @anotherbeingsworld​

#bladesaw #mal volari #mal x mc #tyril starfury #nia ellarious #blades of light and shadow #blades fanfic #choices fanfiction