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#really should have been multi-chapter with more fleshing out
married2avampire · 2 months
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The Way You Look Tonight
Chapter Six • The Devil
Ao3
Contents: MULTI-CHAPTER, Alucard (Hellsing)xfem!reader, eventual NSFW, written in 2nd person, relatively ambiguous time period but pre-2000s, reader and family members descriptions (other than clothes and personalities) are kept ambiguous for the sake of inclusion, ghost Alucard (kind of?), spooky stuff, Integra is dead and the Hellsing Organization has been dissolved, Alucard in the flesh, yandere/obsessive themes, wounds,  I’m on team Alucard With Long Hair.
5.0k words
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You might as well have made a deal with the devil. There you sat, writhing on the lower step, which was cold and biting against the exposed skin of your back where your shirt had ridden up. Strong, gloved fingers held your hip tight. The only light down here in the dark was the faint red glow of the vampire’s eyes. You’d agreed to his proposition, and would rather have him tied to your hip than roam free, what with all he was capable of. All he asked for in return was a few more drops of blood, which you granted him. You felt that tongue — strange and long — glide along the underside of your forearm where you’d been cut. Wearing a grimace all the way while he took what he called a ‘few drops.’ You’d expected a bite… but maybe that wasn't how real vampires worked. His laugh makes your eyes flit about in the dark. 
“It has been so long… since I’ve had blood this sweet,” his voice is low in his throat, a purr. You feel his grip on your waist loosen again, only to adjust you against his lap. Your bare toes have long gone stiff from the cold of this dark place. Wigging again, you reach a hand out to grip the thick fabric of his coat, trying to sit up, get off the stairs, something. Instead, the vampire hums softly and pulls you up against his chest. You hiss in pain when his hand brushes the scrapes on your spine. You grab onto the back of his coat, preferring this to the harsh jagged stairs. “Humans are so delicate,” you hear him mutter, your weight slightly jostled as he stands with you. Gravity tugs at you, but his arms slide underneath you to keep you aloft. You hadn't been held like this in… well not since you were little. 
“Put me down,” you say, but the words are not as full of authority as you had wished. You’re exhausted. After having been tormented night after night without hardly a wink of proper sleep… you can barely hold a stern tone. Despite this, he does set you down, numb feet against cold stone. You can’t see a thing down here and hold your hands out as you try to climb the stairs and get out. A gentle hand rests just under your shoulder blades. He’s trying to guide you up. Somewhat thankful, despite your dislike for him, you manage to stumble back up into the light. When you reach the dusty carpet of the first floor, you sigh in relief. Moonlight trickles in through the cobwebbed windows and you think, just for a moment, that the light might chase away your nightmare. But he rises from the shadowy depths of the basement, boots a measured, dull, and patient tap tap on the carpet as he comes to stand beside you. You feel the heaviness in your eyes as you stare up at him. It really was him. From the dream… from everything. In all his horribleness, he was beautiful. Long, dark, wavy hair that stopped just at his chest. You stared up while he stared down, one crimson eye visible through those shaggy bangs. The shine of a sharp tooth caught your eye when his lip quirked up into a smirk. The vampire sucks in a breath to speak.
“I see the hostility in your eyes.” 
You remain silent. Knowing what he can do, you're not so sure you can say what you want to say.
“There’s no point in hiding your thoughts from me,” he urges you. 
“I… hate you.”
“You don't quite believe that.” The vampire leans down and catches your chin in his fingers. You jerk your head, slipping out of his grasp. It doesn't deter him. “No, rather, you’re torn. You should hate me — you think — but humans are so vain, are they not?” He steps forward, coat sweeping along the floor as he drops to one knee. 
“Are you saying that your beauty absolves you of your wrongdoings?” You glare, stepping back. Your anger fizzles like a fire trying to start on damp logs. You're sure that if he was not near you, you’d be able to feel the full burn of your frustration. But his presence has a dampening effect on your negative emotions. 
“I never said that.” The vampire smiles cheekily as if asking, ‘You think I’m beautiful?’ You want to smack him again, but you turn around instead. The empty hall slides past your vision slowly as you make your staggered way towards the door, clutching just above your elbow to try and stave the sting of the cut. 
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The pink glow of sunlight through your eyelids in the morning rouses you. You blink them open slowly, lying limply under the covers which feel heavy and warm. You don't get up, only roll onto your side and gaze sleepily at the open window. A cool breeze makes the thin white curtains billow. Becoming aware of the press of a bandage against your elbow, you realize that the vampire must have helped you the rest of the way to your room and cleaned you up a bit. You didn’t know where he was now. With all his power, you’re sure sunlight was the same to him as it was to you. And yet, he's nowhere to be seen. 
You pay it no mind, getting up to go through your morning routine with a newfound exhaustion. Your parents take notice when you come down for breakfast and you make the quick excuse that you were feeling under the weather. There’d be no way you could tell anyone that you were bound to some ancient vampire that had lived in the basement. Luckily, your parents take pity on you and leave you to rest while they continue working while avoiding the first floor until someone comes to take a look at it. You’re somewhat grateful to have been the one to find the vampire. There was no telling what kind of mess would have happened had some inspector found an undead corpse. You shiver as some sort of nightmare apocalypse springs in your mind. Blood and countless news vans. It makes your spine crawl.
 You stow away, bringing with you a mug of warm tea to slide back under the covers with. However, right as you reach the top of the stairs and look down the hall that leads to your room, you watch the end of a red coat disappear through the doorway. You know then that you wouldn't be getting much rest today either. 
Stepping into your room, you give a sweeping glance. The vampire stood in front of the open window, looking out, arms folded behind his back. His coat is laid neatly at the foot of your bed. He looks quite different without it, you think. Thinner and less intimidating. Actually, he’s still intimidating, but now it is a different kind of intimidating. Instead of seeming big, like he took up all the space around you, he seems sophisticated. He turns to look at you, and you watch as his long hair rolls over his shoulder. “I never introduced myself.” He steps forward, one arm still folded behind his back as the other glides forward to clasp your free hand in his. “Alucard.” The vampire bows his head and you grimace when you feel his lips press a kiss to your knuckles. Dark eyelashes flutter open, and you’re met with patient yet expectant eyes. Your name. He wants your name. You sigh and give it with far less vigor than he gave his own. It pleases Alucard all the same. He calls it beautiful. You roll your eyes. 
“You’re not very original,” you tell him. It doesn’t bruise his ego in the slightest. He continues giving you that damned smile. 
“Tired?”
“Exhausted.”
“Rest, then. I won’t bother you.” Alucard steps aside out of your way. You don’t believe him.
“I don’t think I can rest very well with you hovering,” you tell him, brushing past to set your cooling tea on the bedside table. Alucard follows you, urging you to scoot aside. He pulls the covers back and once you sit in bed, he pulls them up over your lap, reaching behind you to prop your pillow up a bit more. 
“I think you will,” his voice is a little condescending, similar to the way he’d spoken to you last night. You give him a long glare before attempting to let your muscles relax. Rest hadn’t come to you very well in who knows how long. You stopped counting the days. Weeks? Months? It felt more like months. Your very bones felt sore from the terrors you’d endured thanks to the now-welcoming beast beside you, who slid your mug into your hands. 
“Why be nice to me now?” You stare down at the rippling rose-tinted water. The scent of it is comforting. Alucard doesn’t move for a moment, and then you tilt your head upwards to watch as he brings one curled knuckle to his bottom lip, thinking. He analyzes your face, his own impossible to read. 
“Why? Think of it this way: what sane girl would trot down into a mysterious dark basement? I realized this when you weren’t understanding my messages.” 
“Messages?”
“Stupid girl. I showed you where to find me in your dreams. I even drew you a map in that little book of yours.” You weren’t sure you enjoyed the tone he’d used when he called you a ‘stupid girl.’ Cooing, like you were a mere kitten he was having fun toying with. 
“So you opted to drive me insane so you could possess me.” You glare up at him. Alucard reaches down to tap your knuckle. Somehow, you understand that he’s telling you to drink, and for some reason, you do. The tea is mildly sweet but mostly refreshing. A warmth that spreads out in your stomach. It soothes the lulling tides of your anger. Alucard smiles faintly in approval. 
“It was quite difficult, I’ll give you that, and took far longer than I had expected. Your mind is…” He reaches out, but when you flinch away, so too does his hand. Alucard’s smile fades. “… Strong.”
“I’m tired.” You close your eyes, no longer having the energy to keep up with any form of conversation. You don’t know how strong a deal with a vampire is, or how true they stay to their stipulations, but you’re certain that he won’t hurt you. Something’s telling you that he won’t. You realize with a muted sense of worry, that it’s that same feeling you’d gotten when he slipped into your mind that night. “You’re still in my head!” Your eyes open and you sit upright, spilling a little of your tea on your fingers. 
Alucard’s eyebrows raise and you watch the sharp corners of his mouth twitch. “A little,” he says, taking the mug from your hands and setting it on the bedside table. “Don’t worry, I’m not listening.”
“How can I trust you?” You glare, and a part of you feels a little wash of some strange soothing emotion against your frayed mind. He’s doing that, you realize. You ought to be surprised but you’re not. You’d seen what he was capable of, and you’re sure you’d only seen a fraction of what he was capable of.
“That’s up to you.” 
You feel a prick of irritation, but another lap of exhaustion has you letting it go. A part of you wonders if that was him too, but you know it’s not. There’s a feel to him — like the warm steam of a bath — that’s vacant in your mind now. When you shut your eyes, you find that Alucard was right. You could rest with him here. Actually, it was quite easy.
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When you woke up, the sun was setting. Your mother brought you dinner, which you’d devoured, having skipped lunch to rest. The benefits of being sick, you smiled. You weren’t sick, but you knew you needed this rest after all that had happened, and what your parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Setting your empty plate aside and stacking your mug of cold tea atop it, you lean back against the headboard of your bed and roll up your sleeve to trace your fingers along the nicely wrapped bandage around the cut on your arm. You’d pulled a long sleeve over your nightshirt before you’d left your room earlier this morning to hide it. You decide to take it off. Too hot. You’d begun to sweat.
“Any pain?”
You jump at the sound of Alucard’s voice and watch as he steps out of that dark shadow always lingering in the corner of your room. “No,” you say cautiously, watching him come closer with slow and careful steps. “You did this?” You toss the long sleeve to the foot of your bed, left only in your nightshirt once more.
“I did. There’d be no point in wasting good blood.” His smile is sharp and you look away from it, still unaccustomed to the strangeness of his being. Something about him made your head scream wrong. He looked almost human, but his features were slightly too long or too sharp and you found yourself unable to look at him for more than a few seconds. 
“Don’t expect me to forgive you after bandaging one wound that you caused,” you grumble. 
“Oh, don’t pout.” 
“Pout?! I am not pouting-,” You whip around, eyes shooting daggers at him, but are silenced with the press of one gloved finger to your lips. Alucard leans over you a little, his shadow cast across your lap from the light of the evening sun.
“I didn’t do it for selfish reasons.” Alucard pulls his hand away. He looks serious now. There’s no twinkle of that teasing emotion or that faint twitch in the corner of his mouth. “You were bleeding. That is all.” Rising again, his broad shoulder blocks the sunlight from your eyes.
You squint suspiciously at him and ponder believing him when he doesn’t falter. Having no biting words to give, you turn your head away from him. Using your ears to see now that you’re not looking at Alucard, you hear the rustle of his coat and the tap of his boots. He’s walking towards the window. You vaguely wonder why as you let your eyes close again. 
“You remind me of someone I knew a while ago before I was in that basement.” Alucard’s low rolling voice sounds far-off. You think, that when he’s not teasing you, his voice is quite pleasant to listen to. 
“How so?” You turn to look at him, immediately drawn to the thin bend of his waist. Your eyes dart away again and you feel a burn of irritation in admitting you found him a little attractive — strange and unnerving — but attractive. 
“You have her glare, her sharp tongue, that’s all.” 
“The painting?” You recall that rat-eaten painting that you’d taken outside to be disposed of. It was beautiful once. She was beautiful. 
“Yes, that’s her. My former master.” Alucard looks up fondly at the darkening sky. “I wonder… are you looking down on me, Integra?” 
Your eyes follow his up to the sliver of sky that you can see from your bed. “Did you kill her?” 
“No.” 
“How did she die?” 
Alucard turns to look at you with an expression pinched with some emotion you can’t quite place. He exhales through his nose, stepping closer with arms folded behind his back. “She got old, as all humans do.” 
You stay silent, watching. 
“As you will, too.” Alucard leans in.
You squint. 
“And I will be there at the end.”
Something in your mind rings, faintly, like a bell. You tilt your head at him curiously. “If I am suffering in the end, would you deal the final blow?” You watch Alucard twitch a little in surprise before he narrows his eyes at you in turn. He hesitates. You see it in the way his lips fidget before he speaks.  
“That depends.” 
You dig at him, not settling for a vague answer. “Would you?” He hesitates again. This time you fill the second’s silence with another, more direct question. “If I was suffering and I asked you to kill me, would you do it?”
Something in Alucard’s expression calms as he looks through you as if imagining the scene. When he comes back to the present, he looks at you a moment longer before giving his answer. “I would.” A gloved hand slips out from its folded position behind his back. It rests in front of you, held out in the air welcomingly. “I am, after all, your humble servant.”
You stare at his hand a moment, wondering if there was flesh beneath that white cloth or if all that was underneath was coiling black shadows. When you take his hand it is firm and warm and you find it very hard to believe that there is no flesh underneath. Alucard pulls you gently out of bed and to your feet. The smooth floor is cold under your toes and you look down, feeling small. Your feet looked small beside the leather point of his boots. It was strange. You’d never felt like this before. Proud. You look up at him. Alucard had the face of a sneering loping wolf. You were smaller than him, weaker than him, and yet, here he was, declaring himself your humble servant. From what you could tell, he had been a servant many times. “You are?” you ask. 
“I am.” Alucard bows his head and closes his eyes for a moment too long. When they open, he’s looking down at your body. You feel a slow-building irritation, assuming he’s thinking something perverted when he clicks his tongue and reaches out to pinch the shoulder of your nightshirt. “You’ve been in these for far too long.”
“Are you telling me I stink?” You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest defensively. 
“No need to phrase it so impolitely.” Alucard shrugs and you feel yourself once more fight the urge to smack him. 
Scoffing, you brush past him, making sure your shoulder bumps his arm extra hard. “Fine,” you growl, making for your dresser to gather a new set of clothes and prepare for a shower. You’re stopped by the strength of a looping arm against your belly and smell that copper sweet that clung to Alucard like perfume.
“Do be careful of that bandage of yours.” He leans in to mutter close to your ear. 
You feel heat creep down your neck and squirm out of his hold, turning to stare at him, shocked and red-faced. Alucard only stares back with that slightly amused twitch on his lips. He folds his arms behind his back and steps away — one, two, three — until he’s disappeared through the wall like a shadow. 
That still unsettled you. Perhaps you’d never get used to it, you think as you make for the bathroom. 
When you arrive, part of you is worried that he’s watching you somehow. That frayed part of your mind that had felt like it had gone through a blender. In your head, you picture a rope. It’s neatly braided and shiny too, but the ends have gotten chewed up by some pest, and now it's all in disarray. The upper half is still in perfect condition, but the latter half was an unruly mess, too overwhelming for you to even begin putting back together. That part of your mind was scared of that nasty pest you now knew as Alucard. 
Starting the water and letting it run until it goes hot, you shed your clothes. Looking down at your healing arm, you inspect the dressing. The bandage was expertly wrapped. It made you wonder — just what kind of experiences did Alucard have if he knew how to wrap bandages so proficiently? To be so powerful he had to be ancient as well. So, perhaps war. Perhaps many. When you ease into the shower, you're careful to wash around the bandage so as to not get it too wet. The cut wasn’t all that bad. You knew this. In fact, it was probably already scabbed over. Yet somehow you felt inclined not to destroy that pristine bandage job. 
“I didn’t do it for selfish reasons.”
His words ring in your head as you look down at the white wrapping. Selfish reasons… Alucard had been nothing but selfish since you’d first had the dishonor of interacting with him. You reminded yourself of that list of awful things when you felt the fray of your mind slip into the easy forgiveness it so often gave men. It wasn’t that bad, your thoughts ring. You bite at them with anger. Stalking, I’m pretty sure. Stealing, absolutely. Driving me actually insane, for sure — and possession! You glare down at the shower floor angrily. Well, angry at your lack of anger. You had all these things to hurl at him and more ��� but your emotions wouldn't budge. 
Your eyes flick over to the bandage again before you rip it right off. 
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He’s waiting in the dark of your room, outlined by a single candle. You’re silent, as is he when you slip in and make for the hamper to put your dirty clothes. You know he knows. You can feel those glowing red eyes boring into your back as you feel the fresh cool air against your scabbing cut.
“I told you to be careful,” his voice is calm but you hear the faint scolding undertone. 
You drop your clothes into the hamper, avoiding looking at him for as long as you can. Alucard looked eerie in the dark, you found. His figure seemed to stretch with the shadows and the flickering light of the candle. You remind yourself that you’re an adult who shouldn’t be scared by moving shadows. However, you had never grown out of your active childhood imagination. You imagine Alucard twisting up into some disfigured horror and feel very uneasy in the dark with him standing at your bedside — blocking the only place you knew to hide and feel safe. 
In the weeks leading up to the current events, the dark had become a time of absolute terror that now left you feeling a vague rising of nausea. The threat of horror was gone — or at least Alucard had promised it was — and yet you still felt like a deep scar was worn into your mind that knew to ache when it was near what originally hurt it. There’s no threat, and yet your heart is beginning to race.
Alucard fixes you with a curious squint, moving slightly only to get a better look at you. He gestures with a light flick of his hand. “Come here.” 
You shake your head, mind still playing nasty tricks on you as you see him as that horrible corpse in the blink of a second. Alucard stands from the chair that was pulled up by your bedside and begins to approach you. You feel fear sink its claws in your mind, screeching at you to run, run, run, but your legs are heavy like they’re full of lead. Even as your muscles twitch to move, it’s as if your bones have turned to stone. “I- I’m scared,” you blurt, suddenly stepping back. 
Alucard doesn’t come any closer. Cautious. You notice the flick of his eyes searching your expression and your body. “I made a promise that no harm would come to you.” 
“How can I trust you?” You feel that this conversation is familiar. This time, it’s Alucard who is left in silence. He just stands there for a moment, staring at you. You realize he understands that there’s no possible way to tell you that his words hold value and watch as he takes to a knee. 
It’s a silent display of obedience, making oneself smaller. Alucard was a towering man… but you’re quickly finding he has a penchant for bowing down. You don’t know why he does it or why he seems to enjoy it, either. With a blink, you realize that single movement was enough to quell your fears. The beast was sitting politely at your heel. “You said you’re my humble servant, right?” You rub it in just a little. 
He lets you. “I am.” Alucard’s eyes twinkle as he looks up at you, red catching the orange flame of the candle. 
Looking down at him, you watch as the strong shadow cast by the candle wavers. It outlines the black of his hair in a faint copper halo and the glow of his eyes sets a light hue of pink on his pale cheeks. He reminded you of some villain. It was in the narrow set of his eyes and the sharp, almost crooked bend of his nose. That thin upper lip and his jagged-toothed smile that sometimes stretched a little too long. His voice, too. Low, breathy, and with a rolling masculine growl that you sometimes caught when he got too amused. 
Feeling your fear abide completely with him on his knee, you step past to climb into bed. Alucard’s boots tap on the floor and you hear him moving as you slip under the cool covers. 
“There’s one thing I don’t get,” you say as you watch him take a seat beside the bed. The chair creaks faintly under his weight. 
“And what’s that?” 
“Why didn’t you just kill me and run off or something? Wouldn’t it benefit you more if you had freedom?” You watch him closely again. Surprisingly, Alucard only yawns. You take note of every sharp, jagged tooth in his mouth before his jaw closes. 
“I have no interest in mindless bloodbaths anymore.” He looks bored, busying his eyes with the pattern of your sheets. You catch that final word ‘anymore.’
“Meaning, you once did?”
“A long, long time ago,” Alucard answers, and you begin to wonder if you were right in assuming that he was very old. “Fresh little vamplings have no respect for the blood they spill, thinking themselves above their prey,” Alucard continues, “but bloodsuckers are nothing more than cowards, afraid to face mortal truths. I was young once and devoured ravenously. However, there is a point in time when unbeatable immortality begins to drive you mad. Playing lapdog and dedicating yourself to something delicate and mortal keeps the mania away.” 
“So that’s why…” It makes sense now. Inescapable immortality was devoid of any unique experiences, except for experiencing a mortal having experiences. People were unpredictable, you knew that. So that must be why Alucard liked bending the knee for you. Something else irks you though. “Hey, I’m not delicate.” You wrinkle your nose at him. 
Alucard is silent, smirking as he gestures to the scabbing cut on your arm. 
Oh, you want to smack him so bad. “That’s your fault.”
“My fault or not, the delicacy remains.” 
You catch the double meaning of that word and hate the way your lips twitch. Right, because my blood is a delicacy to you. Your eyes roll. “You think you’re funny?” your words hiccup on a suppressed laugh. Alucard lets out a laugh of his own. The very sound of it feels sacrilegious — a low hum in his throat that complimented the sly, squinted smile he was giving you. You forget what you were going to say. 
Alucard fills the silence. “You do,” he says confidently. You smack him this time — only lightly and on the arm. Alucard laughs again, this time louder. You feel it rumble in your own chest and flush, able to do nothing but laugh as well, though weakly and distractedly. 
“It’s healing faster than I expected,” Alucard changes the subject back to your wound, which was bared to the world. “Perhaps some time in the air is what it needs.” He holds his hand out, palm-up, towards you. You stare at it a moment before understanding what it was he wanted, and place your wrist in his palm. Warm gloved fingers close around your wrist and he lifts your arm to inspect the cut closer. “And the ones on your back?” 
“What?” You recall that you’d gotten scraped on your spine but had forgotten because you’d felt no pain from them. “Oh, they’re…” you were about to say ‘fine’ but shot Alucard a glare. “How did you know about those?” Had he done something perverted after all? Looked up your shirt while you slept or something? Alucard dissuades your worries by tapping your forehead. Right. He’d been in your head that night. 
“They’re nothing to worry about then, I see.” Alucard hums and blows a bit of air on the raw skin of your arm. 
“Ow,” you hiss, feeling it sting where it had yet to scab completely. “Why did you do that?” You tug your arm from Alucard’s loose grip.
He gives you a toothy smile, leaning forward a little. “Delicate.” His tongue clicks on the word. 
“You’re insufferable,” you scoff and push his face away with a push of your palm. You knew you wanted to hate Alucard for what he’d done but were finding it hard to see through that dark, wolfish charm. Laying back, you watch him stand from the chair and wonder how long after he stood had it disappeared entirely. You don't remember him putting it away. In fact, you’d never seen that chair before. Alucard adjusts his coat, its end fluttering behind him. The motion makes the candle on your bedside table flicker wildly. He doesn’t seem to bend or shift with the shadows — at least not now. Now he seems solid and sure and faintly, you feel that misty presence in your mind grabbing hold of the frayed ends of your mind and begin to slowly, surely, twist it back into place.
Your mind will never be the same as it was before you were broken down to the brink of insanity. You realize that you may never be fully sane, as you decide that you do indeed trust Alucard.
“Sweet dreams,” he purrs and blows the candle out. You watch as those red glowing eyes remain, staring and unmoving before they too wink out of existence. 
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pilferingapples · 1 year
Text
LM 1.1.1, LM 1.1.2
LM 1.1.1
"The ruin of the French society of the olden days, the fall of his own family, the tragic spectacles of ’93, which were, perhaps, even more alarming to the emigrants who viewed them from a distance, with the magnifying powers of terror.."
I know I mentioned it around the Preface chapter but again it's really striking to me that Hugo was, at this point, an exile , viewing the things going on in France from a distance. I don't know off the top of my head if this line was in the '43 manuscript or new, but it sure feels relevant to '62 Hugo...
I really like how much Myriel becomes a Man of Mystery-- we know he has a big Come to The Church moment, and that's it, and does any of the rest matter?  It almost feels like a challenge--we're going to see what he *does*; should we, after all, care about what was said about him? 
Mademoiselle Baptistine was a long, pale, thin, gentle creature; she realized the ideal expressed by the word “respectable”; for it seems that a woman must needs be a mother in order to be venerable.
-- I strongly suspect that this is a joke/pun about the ranks of nuns; that is, that only a "mother" can be "venerable" , as in "Venerable Mother".  I do not however know squat enough about Catholic titles to be really sure--can anyone help out? 
Translation notes: 
Hapgood inexplicably translates Myriel being "noblesse de robe" as "nobility of the bar". "Noblesse de robe" was a real, specific thing; more usually translated as "nobles of the robe", they were aristocrats attached to an office.   "Noble of the bar" sounds like a joke about a lawyer who drinks a lot. 
LM 1.1.2 Apart from everything else about the hospital/Bishop's mansion swap,  I can't get over how without that, Magloire would have been in charge of cleaning a multi-story mansion all on her own, for, apparently,zero wages? or is the church paying her directly?  I have many questions!
--In fact that is, for me, an effect of Hugo's super-detailed style!  With a lot of authors, I never feel any need to gather more info than exactly what they give me-- everything is spare and stripped down and it feels like if it's not on the page, it's not important. But Hugo's absolute maximalist style invites questions, for me-- he mentions A-F, H , and the L-Z, so why not G, etc?  Obviously, because one has to move on at some point, but somehow the more detail I get here, the more I want!
One detail I'd LOVE to know more about for this chapter: is the Bishop setting up household expenses like this  a normal thing for the Bishop to do!  In a regular household of the time, I'd definitely expect Mlle. Baptistine to be arranging the budget--that would be part of her role as head of the household, although of course her brother would have final authority. But this is a very specific household, and while obviously  Church tradition can't count on every Bishop having a sister or female relative along, I wonder if this is something that would normally be done by a junior clerical type? 
 This holy woman regarded Monseigneur of Digne as at one and the same time her brother and her bishop, her friend according to the flesh and her superior according to the Church. She simply loved and venerated him.
-- first use of the "loved and venerated" phrasing that will repeat in various places in the text! ...I don't feel like that's actually a spoiler XD  But I love Hugo's use of phrases repeating like little leitmotifs! 
a senator of the Empire, a former member of the Council of the Five Hundred which favored the 18 Brumaire, and who was provided with a magnificent senatorial office in the vicinity of the town of Digne, wrote to M. Bigot de Préameneu, the minister of public worship, a very angry and confidential note on the subject, from which we extract these authentic lines:—
I really want to know where Our Narrator is getting these Authentic Lines! But also:  M. Bigot de Preameneu. That is a Dickens-level on -the-nose name there. 
Translation notes: 
We do not claim that the portrait herewith presented is probable; we confine ourselves to stating that it resembles the original.
Sigh. this isn't wrong but it just loses the echoing words of the original (Nous ne prétendons pas que le portrait que nous faisons ici soit vraisemblable; nous nous bornons à dire qu’il est ressemblant.)  My favorite English version of the line I've seen goes along the lines of "We do not say that this portrait is very likely; only that it is very like." , but even there, I think this is just one of those things where translation has a Struggle?  Realizing that I'm gonna start noticing more of those is a real mixed bag ><;
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dee-dee-monster · 1 year
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Then Out of the Aether - (Chapter 2)
Summary: Eddie spots a spy at game night. He learns a little more of what you’re all about. 
Chapter word count: 5,800
Chapter warnings: none! A little reader insecurity
A/N: Multi-chapter slow burn. Henderson!Reader.
Click here to find previous chapters
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Anyone who knows Eddie knows he gets a giddy sort of high during an evening with the D&D crew. 
He has to put time and effort into fleshing-out a campaign, and it all comes to fruition when he and the guys actually play.  It's enthralling to see them get wrapped up in the world  he’s created. To see them enjoy the tour through his imagination. 
And getting let in on their creativity, too? 
Fucking fantastic. 
An honest, natural exchange. 
He enjoys basking in it.  He’s happy to linger around with the guys and talks over the surprises and choices of the night’s gameplay. 
He’s almost always the last to leave.  Not tonight, though. 
Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair are hanging around and chatting his ear off. They’re still new but enthusiastic, which he can only appreciate, really.  A few weeks in and they are finding their flow with the group, but they still worry whether they’re truly settling in. Like they think he’ll kick them out if they don’t live up to whatever they imagine he wants. 
He won’t. 
Fuck that. 
These boys need Hellfire like Eddie had needed Hellfire.  Needs  Hellfire. They deserved to know high school doesn’t have to be shit. That they can find their people. 
(Or, as had been the case, their people will find them.)
Henderson is in the middle of wondering if they should tell Will about the campaign or if it will make him jealous when Eddie sees you. He’s heard about this Will and his love of D&D before, but the kid doesn’t go to Hawkins anymore so there’s nothing Eddie can do about that. 
No, no… he’s distracted now. 
Unless he is very much seeing things – and he hasn’t taken anything that would make him suspect he’s hallucinating – your head had just popped around the door jamb.  You’d disappeared quickly, though.
Maybe he wouldn’t have even trusted his peripheral vision if he hadn’t also thought he saw you walk past earlier. 
Curious. 
But Eddie likes curious, so he ditches the conversation and strolls out into the hallway to investigate.  Sure e-fucking-nough.
There you are. 
 You don’t look like much of a sneak leaning up against a chipped locker, but he can’t think of many reasons for you to be lurking around school on a Friday evening. You’re a bit of a nerd, or whatever, but nobody likes school this much. 
“Well, well…thought I spotted a spy…”
Should he…be flattered? 
Maybe weirded out?
You blink at him innocently enough, but there’s no telling if that’s genuine. 
“A spy?” 
“Mmhmm…” Eddie crosses one arm over his chest and props the other on it so he can rub his fingers over his chin. “I just can’t decide whether or not it’s for hostile purposes…” 
His scrutiny only appears to fluster you a little – something he’s found to be on-brand for you. After a few moments to process, you steel up. 
Ready to play. 
He likes that. You seem to get him, sometimes. 
“Oh, I’m definitely here to infiltrate the party for devious reasons…” 
You’re nowhere near scary, but color him delighted by the correct lingo! Then again, you had known what you were seeing when you spotted his DM’s Guide.
…what does he have on his hands?
“Well,” Eddie contains his surprise in favor of keeping the stern visage he’d already adopted. “In that case I’ll be forced t—”  He is interrupted by Henderson, of all fucking people. He darts from the room, sidles himself in front of Eddie, and wiggles right up into your space like it’s the easiest thing. 
What’s more is how you allow it. 
You hardly even react. 
“Oh my god  – such a good session!” he cheers right at you. 
Your smile is indulgent and crinkles into your eyes, which Eddie certainly cannot comprehend. Dustin’s a neat kid and all, but still. Shit. 
“I’ll give you the play-by-play”
“Henderson–” Eddie chides. 
“Great”
…?
No way. You can’t actually mean that. 
You just can’t. 
“--but can I pull the car around?” Dustin plows on, completely unaware of Eddie’s confusion.
Frankly, it’s morphing slowly into a full existential crisis. 
You just roll your eyes and flick up a key ring to dangle a few inches above Henderson’s head.  
“Only if you’re careful” 
What is this? 
No. 
Really. 
What is even happening?
“Absolutely. Done.” 
“And …” you pause. “You cannot tell mom.” 
Oh!
Fucking oh. 
A simple solution. The simplest, really.
“I’m sorry. Do I look like an imbecile?” the Freshman bristles up at the suggestion he might run and snitch to their mommy. 
“Well…” Eddie pipes in. 
“I mean…” you shrug. 
“Shut up!” Dustin looks back around at Eddie and then to  you. “Can I do this or not?” 
“Make the promise,” you order him, stone-faced. 
Eddie chortles. 
Little Henderson growls. Poor dude’s probably embarrassed. That, as far as Eddie has ever deciphered, is what older siblings are for. 
“I promise I will not tell our mother you are aiding and abetting my illegal parking lot activities.”
Eddie laughs at that, too, just to be fair.
Dustin beams. 
Apparently the promise suffices because you drop the keys into his waiting hands. He takes off running before you can change your mind. 
“Come on, you guys!” he shouts wildly over his shoulder. 
As if on cue, Wheeler and Sinclair shoot out of the theater classroom and dash off down the hall in their friend’s wake. 
“Night Eddie!”
“Bye, Eddie!”  The hall falls quiet once all of their sneakers have stomped and squeaked away around the corner. 
“Sorry if I interrupted you early. Dustin is usually out front by now so I came to check…”
“Henderson… ” Eddie ignores the needless apology for more important information.
Is this a bad surprise? No, not particularly. 
But is he feeling deceived? Weirdly yes. 
“...yeah?” 
Reluctantly, Eddie shakes his head. 
“...dunno how I didn’t put that together…” 
Then again, he had skipped the first week of school. Had he ever even heard Ms Corski say your full name back when she was learning who was who in her class? …maybe. Hard to say. 
And, in his defense, he doesn’t really see it. Or…now that he knows the relation maybe there is something similar in your eyes…maybe? Or not. Whatever. He doesn’t fucking know. 
“Well…surprise,” you showcase a grin. “Again, sorry if I broke this up early,” you nod toward where your brother and his pals had disappeared. 
“Nah – no worries. Just chatting” 
“Good, good…well, I’m going to head out. I should probably be supervising this parking lot situation…” 
“Yeah, just hold up — let me grab my bag…”
Eddie darts back into the rehearsal room for his backpack so he can head out too. The custodians are pretty lenient about what time they have to get out of there, but there’s no reason to abuse the kindness.  “So you play chauffeur a lot, huh?” He recalls you’d mentioned taking a brother home from school. 
“Well, this one I volunteer for. Gives my mom a break and, I dunno…” you sigh and Eddie looks down to see you tipping your head side to side like you’re weighing your words. “I don’t want my mom to ask too many questions…”
Riiiiiight. 
“I get it,” he chuckles. “What kind of club does she think he’s in?”
Eddie now pictures Dustin sneaking his Hellfire T-shirt out of the house and changing once he’s safely in school. Or maybe he buttons it up under one of his shirts until they leave the house in the morning 
“Oh, no… no, she knows it’s for D&D,” you dismiss that. “Dusty and the boys have been playing for years.  She’s always known that…”
“Okay, I see where this is going…”
“The way they’re playing is more mature now, so…”
Yup. There it is. 
“Uh-huh. She’d flip if she saw him with me, right?” He nods. “Makes sense…” 
It’s certainly not appreciated, Mrs Henderson The Elder, but don’t accuse Eddie of being shocked. Never that.
“Not you,”  you insist with a wave of your hand to so casually swat down his perfectly legitimate guess. “Just… all of it.  The fact that it’s all upperclassman, the set up you’ve got going — which is a cool aesthetic, by the way; I definitely thought Dusty was exaggerating when he told me about it —“
“Thank you,” he finds himself offering you a bow of gratitude. 
“Mom would just … …well I dunno exactly what she would think, but she would ask questions. She worries a lot. I just don’t want her to ruin this for Dustin,” you scuff your feet a little at the tile, staring downward like you’ve said too much. 
Eddie doesn’t think it’s too much. He thinks it’s pretty kickass that you’re running interference for your brother. 
So he tells you so. 
“Ah,” you shrug. “He’s had a hard couple years. This is good for him… …so thanks,” your tone lilts like you’re realizing an opportunity. “You know, for welcoming him in. You and the guys have been, I dunno…like a soft place to land…”
And Eddie does not know what the fuck to do with that. Racks his brain for evidence of what to say, comes up skint, and so does what he does best. 
Tells the truth:
“…not sure I’ve ever been accused of being a good influence before. You sure you know who you’re talking to?” he laughs and is surprised when you don’t join him. 
“Well…are you selling him drugs?”
Christ. Talk about a 180!
“What? No!” 
“Then I don’t care about the rest of it,” you simply shrug. “I don’t buy what most of the other students say. Who do you think gave Dustin the green light on you?”
Eddie’s feet falter, and he snaps his gaze down to you as you shove through the first doors of the front vestibule. 
“What green light? …you’ve been talking about me?”
The look you give him is oddly …pitying? You stop before the second set of doors. Hand resting on the latch, but you’re not going anywhere yet. 
“Oh come on…Dustin is a dorky kid who hangs out with a couple other dorks, and during his second week of high school the oldest senior at Hawkins was telling him to pull up a seat for lunch?” you spell out for him. 
“Yeah, I remember – I was there.   And?”
Your eyes widen. 
“And he’s the kid who gets bullied …what makes you think he trusted you were being sincere?”
Huh. 
Okay. Sure. If you fucking put it like that. 
“So that dweeb went off and had me vetted?!” Eddie keeps up his flabbergasted veneer. 
“That’s dramatic of you …but basically,” you confirm. “Yeah.”
“….gotta say I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
Outcasts are supposed to stick together and shit. 
“Relax. You obviously passed,” you pat his arm in a way that is openly condescending before you grin and then push through the doors. 
Which…yeah. 
Now you’ve brought up a whole other point. 
“…mind if I ask why?” He continues to trail you outside.
“Because I didn’t have a reason to tell him to back off?  I told you I don’t care what people say or what people call you — you’re not like the jerks around here, and that counts for something. I mean,” you balk a little and shoot another awkward glance up at him. “I know I don’t actually know you, but I’ve known  about you for a couple years…you seem genuine. Ya know?” 
Does he fucking ever.
People just don’t usually make that sort of thing sound like a compliment when they talk to him, so most of his usual retorts taste useless.
“What?” Your tone starts to twist defensive when he stays quiet. “I’ve never seen  you pick on someone for being smaller. Or younger. Or, god forbid, not mainstream…”
Oh.
“Yeah. No. Course not…fuck—"
“Wow, would you get a load of this…” Eddie follows your gaze to see Little Henderson absolutely inching a little gray Cavalier up beside the sidewalk. 
“Damn…”
“It’s painful,” you nod along beside him. 
But Henderson looks mighty pleased with himself once he eases to a stop and shifts into Park. 
“And Mike thought I would hit something —hah!” he shouts out the window. 
“Was decent odds,” Wheeler shrugs as he climbs out of what was probably the slowest car ride of his life. 
“At that speed you wouldn’t have hurt anything,” Eddie assures him. 
You’re willing to laugh at your brother's expense, so Eddie makes a mental note that just because you trust him around your brother doesn’t mean you expect him to dote. Just as well. 
“Oh, screw all of you!”
“Lucas is gone?” your brother’s indignance seems ignored as you look around the lot.
“Yeah, he took off with his mom before we got in the car,” Wheeler supplies
“I made sure she didn’t see me!” Dustin adds with some pride. 
“Mkay…and Mike, do you have a ride?” 
It’s like you’ve gone full mama duck. There’s more confidence and command in your voice as you check on your brother’s little horde. Eddie watches the transition as he lights up a cigarette – it’s kind of precious.  
“My dad is coming. Mom doesn’t like to drive at night…” 
“Do you think they forgot?
“No, just running late. He did the same thing last week, but they’ll get used to the club,” he shrugs and takes a seat at the curb like this doesn’t bother him, which is an interesting insight into that family 
“Hop in. We’ll wait with you,” you welcome him. 
“That’s okay. Eddie waits til our rides are here…” 
Okay, damn, Wheeler. Rat him out, huh? Eddie would rather head out and let the Freshman wait with Big Sis Henderson, but that’s fucking rude to actually say out loud. 
“Yeah?” You swing your gaze to Eddie.
He shrugs and nods while he sucks in a drag 
“…you’re sure?”
Your grin suggests you know all too well that even the best 13 year olds can be a little much when they put their heart and soul into it. 
Eddie drops his head to the side.
“Thought you weren’t scared of me corrupting the youth,” he grins.
You give him the eye roll he well deserves and then focus your attention back to Mikey. 
“Go ahead and tell your parents I’ll bring you home from now on if they’re cool with it…I’ll be here anyway…”
“Really?” He straightens. “Thanks.” 
Yeah, Eddie gets the appeal of a reliable ride. Of not always being the last one waiting. He feels an unexpected swell of appreciation toward you for caring about these particular little misfits. 
Or–
“Little bro’s friends have little crushes,” Eddie leans down to mutter in your ear.
He receives an elbow in the ribs, and he’s big enough to admit he should’ve anticipated and dodged it.  You also take a swipe for his cigarette, but he manages to rebuff that attempt.
“Hooooo! Better luck next time…”
“Is this flirting?!” Dustin shouts through the open car window. 
“No,” Eddie and you freeze and call back to him in unison. 
“ … it seems like it.”
Fucking punk. 
“Tell you what – when I flirt, you’ll know. How about that?” Eddie smarms because, no, he won’t be schooled on interactions with girls by a ninth grader.
Not even an almost-awesome one.
“Ugh! Gross,” Henderson flings his head back in protest 
“Idiot…” 
You’re blushing; Eddie can see it in the dim night light. Even if he couldn’t, the way you’re stretching your shoulders and straightening the hem of your shirt is screaming of your discomfort.  You really are funny sometimes. 
“What was that?” Dustin hollers over to you. 
“Nothing,” you smile innocently. 
He looks dubious but gives up the topic. 
“Alright, well – you’re sure you’re good?” you look between Eddie and Mike as you edge towards the car. 
“Mmhmm,” Eddie nods around his smoke. 
“Yeah, no worries…thank you though,” Mike rushes. “See you.” 
“Later, Mike…bye Eddie” 
He waves with his free fingers and watches you head around the car. Dustin rolls the windows up once you’re inside and visibly launches into… something. Either he is giving you shit or unloading the play-by-play he’d promised of the night’s game. 
“So... ” Eddie saunters over and squats down to take up the curb space next to Wheeler. “Crushing on your friend’s sister, huh?” 
“What! No!” 
The shock and betrayal on his face is worth bringing the question up at all. Wheeler’s gone ramrod straight, face slack, and eyes wide. 
“Whaaat?” he mimics Mike. “Nooo!” 
“I have a girlfriend,” he insists. 
Yeah, yeah, Eddie has heard about the friends they miss out in California. 
“So? Doesn’t mean you can’t think your friend’s sister is cute …it’s fine, man. Classic story.” 
Wheeler huffs but gives up on the denial portion of the evening. 
“Whatever…” 
“Whatever,” Eddie mimics him again. 
“It’s not like Dustin didn’t have a crush on my sister for, like,  ever …” 
Eddie throws his head back in a laugh. 
“See? What did I say – classic … …you’ve known her a long time, then, huh?” 
“Since elementary,” Mike shrugs a shoulder. 
“...and she really is cool with all of this?” he waves at them and Mike’s bag that’s sitting between his feet with his character notebook. 
“Huh? Oh! Yeah,” he gets enthusiastic again. “I mean, she’s not, like,  into  it – she doesn’t play. But she thinks it’s neat.” 
“Neat?” 
Not really a compliment. 
“Or. No. Like, she’s glad we have something we’re into – she doesn’t think it’s weird or anything, is what I mean,” he explains in a hurry. “She isn’t going to try to yank Dustin out or disrupt us or something. You don’t have to worry about her, that’s all.” 
“M’kay, yeah I kinda got that… …” Eddie takes another long drag. “Just checking…” 
“Yeah. Yeah. She’s totally cool…” 
“Totally cool, huh?” Eddie smirks. 
“Dude, stop – not what I meant. I have–” 
“A girlfriend. Alright…I heard you…” he tilts his head back to gaze up at the darkening sky.
There’s hardly a cloud up there. It’s going to be a nice night.  Sometimes on nights like this he likes to grab a joint, sprawl out on the picnic table near the trailer, and take in the sky while he thinks about life after graduation.  His Post-Hawkin’s timeline is finally coming up, and he has high fucking hopes…
Mike shifts beside him, distracting him. 
Because he’ll have to wait on all of that. 
“Sorry my dad’s late…” 
“S’fine,” Eddie shrugs. “Been there, done that…” 
“Yeah?” 
“Mmhmm…my old man forgot where I was all the time…” 
“But I thought you lived with your Uncle,” Wheeler frowns with all of the tact of someone his age. 
“Uh-huh,” Eddie finishes off his smoke and grinds it under his heel. “He’s always been better at keeping up with me…” 
Uncle Wayne gets him.  And he has perfected the art of not trying to hold the reins too tightly but also not actually just letting go. Even now, at 20, they have an easy understanding. 
Wheeler’s gone quiet. Likely trying to puzzle this out. He’s probably never given a thought to Eddie’s living arrangement, like he’d just been born and magically appeared in his Uncle’s custody.  Little suburbanite that he is. 
But it’s just as well. 
Eddie puts his passions out on his sleeve, but there’s some things he doesn’t care for everyone to understand about him. 
“Oh,” Mike finally says, perhaps realizing he’d been quiet too long. 
Eddie just smirks.  It’s another half hour before a car pulls into the lot and Mike stands up.  Long enough that Eddie had been weighing the pros and cons of just giving Mike a ride – the pro being getting home sooner and the con being accused of kidnapping a minor if his parents showed up.
Needless to say, the cons won.
“Thanks, Eddie…for waiting and, ya know, for a fun game tonight…” 
“Course, Wheeler – same time next week” 
“Same time next week” 
 .
 So, at the same time each week, you form your routine for Dustin and Mike’s pick up.  The two boys hang around a little after their games to talk more with their new friends, and you wander in to shepherd them one before they can make pests of themselves. 
Not that the last part seems to be much of a problem – their more passionate tendencies that would get them teased elsewhere are really bonding them to this group – but the thing is they’d probably find a way to stay for an hour if you let them.  “You can come in, you know…” 
You tilt your head up from your seat in the hallway to see Eddie leaning through the doorway, his ringed hand gripping the jamb and his neck tilted out. 
“... …I don’t need a secret password or something?” 
His eyes crinkle in the corners. 
“No… …not a bad idea though,” he considers. 
“Well, I’m good …I’m not interrupting,” you raise innocent hands. 
You know you’re early. 
“Nah, s’okay – they’re having a little strategy session,” Eddie nods back over his shoulder. “I just saw your feet over here… …thought maybe the time had gotten away from me…” 
You know he isn’t complaining about your feet distracting him, but you fold up your legs under you instead of leaving them stretched out in front of you. 
“Nope, I’m just early…” 
“...I see that. You’re early and sitting on the floor…” 
You shrug, unsure what he’s getting at. You’re allowed to be here and you aren’t hurting anything. You suppose maybe he’s just reiterating how you can come in and have a chair like a normal person, but you don’t want to interrupt Dustin’s time. 
“Whattcha workin’ on?” Eddie has taken advantage of your quiet and realized just what you’re doing out here. 
Now he is shuffling a bit further out the door so he can squat and take a look. 
“Maybe you are a spy….” 
You swat his knee because he doesn’t seem to mind that sort of thing. 
“So I’m selling state’s secrets now?” 
“Looks like it …what gives?” 
You have a plain old notebook open on your knee with sentence fragments jotted here and there and a few loose sketches. 
“...just learning some things.”
“Aw, does She-Henderson want to join the party?” He sing-songs at you. 
Uh. 
“...She-Henderson?” 
“You no like?” 
“Not really …and no I’m  not lobbying to join,” you insist, which …could probably come-off rude? 
You could’ve played it cooler.  More power to these guys for their game, but if there’s anything you’ve learned from your brother it’s that D&D is imagination  out loud. That isn’t your style. You like to create and experiment and problem solve in your head and express it more quietly. 
You suppose that is explainable if Eddie proves to be deeply offended. 
“You sure about that?” 
“Very… I’m just working on something for Dustin,” you flip back through a couple pages you’ve filled with bits and bobs. “He wanted me to make a drawing of his character, so I think it’s going to turn into a Christmas gift…he told me all about his dwarf, but it’s not exactly easy.  I mean, I’ve read The Hobbit and all...” 
“Hold on, you’ve read Tolkein?” 
“Yeah”
“...yeah,” his tone is soft but, you think, a little mocking. 
“What? It was fun,” you shrug. “And Dustin talked about basically nonstop after her read it; there’s no missing it at our house.  So,  yeah,” you shrug. “Anyway. I thought I’d listen in,” you nod toward the classroom. “Get more of a feel for the game. Pick up on some things…”
Some of the things you’ve jotted down are just descriptors that leant you a sense of the vibe of the campaign. You’ve also heard about some items. For instance, you tap your fingers over where you’d scribbled “ Bag of Holding?” and doodled a rugged little backpack. 
“Oh. That should be more of a…what do you call it,” Eddie gestures across his chest. “Like a satchel.” 
You nod and make a little asterisk so you can scribble “cross body bag”  with a little arrow so you remember.  
“Thanks…” 
“Mmhmm,” he shifts when you both hear some sneaker squeaks. “What Henderson?” 
You flip your notebook closed.  
“We’re ready for th– ugh! What’re you doing here!?” Dustin’s shoulder’s droop when he sees you. 
“Well. Hello to you, too…” 
“Go away,” he whispers. 
“Don’t worry, man, I already threatened her and convinced her not to make you and Wheeler leave early,” Eddie smirks up at him, then twists to throw you a wink. 
“What ?! Why should I? I’m always here until –” 
“Dustin–”
“No, this is the arrange–”
“Dustin! – you’re fine,” you shout over his firery inclination to be right. “I’m just waiting around.  Go do your thing.”
His eyes narrowed, he glances between you and Eddie.  Eddie looks very amused with his own jokes, but you feel yourself flushing. Dustin really better not let his imagination run away with this.  He’d been pretty fired up that first night you’d come inside to find him:
“Tell me you’re not flirting with Eddie,” he’d insisted as soon as the windows were up in the car and you’d pulled away. 
“I wasn’t flirting with Eddie”
“Look me in the eye and say it again!” 
“I’m driving, Dustin.” 
“Spell it out for me!” he beat his hands against the glove box. “Promise me you aren’t flirting with one of the only cool seniors at Hawkins…” 
You laughed at that. 
“You worry too much” 
“Ugh! Jesus Christ…” 
Once you were home you had, in fact, looked him in the eye and promised you weren’t flirting with his new friend.  He had seemed pacified – at least mildly – and hadn’t made a fuss over you continuing to come fetch him, but now? 
Who knows. 
It doesn’t take much to get him on a roll some days. 
“Alright, alright, take a joke, dude,” Eddie stretches back up to his full height. “Let’s go…” 
He claps your brother on the back and heads in. 
“...I’m not leaving,” Dustin lingers to hiss. 
“Who asked you to?” you whisper right back. 
He pointed two of his fingers at his face and then at you in classic “I’m watching you” fashion.  As if you’ve ever found your brother intimidating. 
To make sure he knows it, you make little shooing motions with your hands. 
He groans as he stomps off. 
Yeah, yeah.  You can tell when the game has truly wrapped up, so you pack up your notebook of new information and sling your purse over your shoulder.  You fish the car keys out because you already know what Dustin will want when he shows his face again. 
“Keys? I won’t tell mom,” is now his go-to greeting. 
You toss the keys over and the boys take off because Dustin very much wants to practice without you. 
“She-Henderson!  You still out there?” Eddie’s voice calls from inside the classroom. 
You step in and see the older guys packing up still.  Eddie is at the head of the table closing some folders. He looks up and nods when he spots you. 
“...not sure I should be answering to that name.”
But you already have, so you suppose you get what you get if he takes that as encouragement. 
“C’mere,” he crooks a finger at you, choosing to ignore your statement altogether. 
You get a better look at their clubroom than you’ve had yet. The lighting and ambiance is more clear up close –it’s quite the mood. 
Jeff and Gareth greet you by first name because they’re apparently the more polite of the group. Jeff had actually been your lab partner in Chemistry all last semester, which had been another reason you’d had some insight into Hellfire not being a, uh, fiery ring of actual hell when Dustin wanted to join. 
“Everything alright?” 
“Uh-huh…here. Take this,” Eddie plucks a book out of his bag to hand over once you’ve walked the length of the table. 
You find yourself staring at a red, paperback players manual. Some of its pages are dog-eared and there’s a few papers shoved here and there like makeshift bookmarks. The binding is worn with what you assume is appreciation and frequent use. 
You take it carefully. 
“For your thing,” he nods at your purse. 
Your thing. 
Is he…being discreet for you? 
Or, on the other hand, this could just as easily be the very opposite. Carelessness regarding the project. But…it wasn’t as though you’d asked him to be quiet. 
“Oh, well…Dustin has one of these,” you know you’ve seen one before. “I can swipe it when he’s distracted. Off talking to Susie or something…” 
“Wait! Susie is real?!” Gareth interrupts. “The girl from Utah.” 
“Mmhmm,” you consider mentioning their mutual love of The Never Ending Story, but you love Dustin too much and Susie seems too sweet. “I’ve talked to her.” 
Dustin had to drag you on a hot walk up a stupid hill to make it happen the first time, but even so. They now manage to talk over the phone sometimes, and you prefer to say hello to her on those occasions.
“Damn. Guess I’ll let that joke go then… …no offense.”
“Ah, none taken.”
An out-of-state girlfriend definitely sounds like the punchline in a movie, especially at Dustin’s age. You’re surprised it’s lasted this long, quite frankly …not that Dustin has a plethora of other prospects lining up. In any case, she is quite real. 
“He’s just jealous because he’s single,” Jeff throws something at Gareth, only to have a pen flung back at him in retaliation. 
Eddie is quiet while he keeps packing up dice and extinguishing candles.  He doesn’t make a move to retrieve his book despite what you’d said, so you wait with it pressed between your palms. 
Once everyone is ready to go, Jeff and Gareth lead the way while still bickering about some girls whose names you don’t recognize. Matt had apparently slipped away at some point without your notice. You trail behind with Eddie and knock his elbow with your arm. 
“You don’t need to lend me yours,” you hold out his manual again.
“I can though. Then you don’t need to stress about your brother's, yeah?” he waves a hand around. “It doesn’t have pictures of everything, but there’s some and they should help … …”
“You’re sure?” 
“Yup. I have other versions, and we share ‘em at the table. It’s no big thing” 
Then why does it seem like one?
“Well thanks…” 
“Mmm, sure. It’s cool what you’re doing for him…” 
You’re…not sure what to say to that?  Naturally there’s some pride involved in the fact that Eddie approves of what you want to make for Dustin, but it also feels strange that he is somehow involved now. A part of it. 
You aren’t used to that. 
“What’re you doing tonight, Eddie?” Jeff interrupts before you have decided how you feel or what you want to say. 
He turns to wait for his answer and hip-checks the front door open. 
“Nothing,” Eddie shrugs. 
“We hang?!” Jeff proposes and smacks Gareth’s arm to include him as they tromp out the second set of doors 
“Sure. We hang.”
“Your place?” 
“Always,” Eddie nods. 
“Gare?”
“I’m in,” his answer sounds dull but comes quick. 
You think maybe Jeff had won their little spat. 
“How bout you?” 
Jeff’s eyes land on you, and you blink in surprise.  You feel your face heat because you assume someone’s going to raise a protest. 
…but then no one does. 
“Oh, no that’s okay. I won’t intrude…” 
“Nah,” Jeff waves that away. 
“Yeah you’re good,” Eddie promises from beside you. “You’re welcome.” 
That’s nearly unanimous. Gareth is quiet but he doesn’t look upset about it when you look around the group. 
“We just hang and shoot the shit …usually end up watching a movie…” Jeff explains. 
“Sometimes a beer or two somehow shows up,” Eddie adds, waving his hands as if to mime a magic trick. “But it’s nothing.” 
That all sounds casual and perfectly normal. And you appreciate the inclusion, only…you really hadn’t expected anything tonight.  
So this feels oddly overwhelming. 
It shouldn’t. 
But you’re torn. 
“Next time, count me in,” you decide 
You can mentally prepare for that. Think about whether you  really want to go. 
Plus…a filthy little corner of your brain tells you that this gives them time to decide if they even want there to be a next time.  You’ve really only been invited now because you’re just, well, there. 
“You sure?” Eddie’s voice has you glancing up his way and he’s watching you carefully. 
“Mmhmm” 
“…you good?”
Shit. 
“Yeah…”
You glance away from his searching eyes toward the car where the boys are watching — Dustin with his eyes narrowed from the passenger seat. So that’s probably going to be a whole thing, too. 
Awesome. 
“Oh…we don’t leave them out on purpose,” Eddie lobs a guess into the situation. “Sometimes it’s just …”
“Oh,” you cut a hand through the air. “Don’t. I get it …I live with him.” 
“I’m so glad I’ll be out of here before my sister’s in high school,” Gareth scoffs. 
“We would hang with them —“
“We do hang with them, dude”
“I just mean if we were going somewhere and not planning to have a drink or …whatever,” Jeff clarifies to Eddie. 
“Guys, I get it,” you chuckle now. “You like them but they’re young — welcome to my life. Just…I’ll figure something out for next time.” 
You remind them you’d be interested in different circumstances, partially to mute that self-loathing voice in your head and also to help reassure them since there seems to be a consensus they’ve gone about this wrong.  You exchange farewells while the other seniors troop off, and you join Dustin and Mike in the car. 
“Why are you encroaching on my friends?” Dustin starts in before you’ve even shifted into Drive. 
“Dustin, come on” 
“What? I don’t do that with your friends” 
Not true. He’d absolutely found all sorts of extra reasons to stop by your room back when Lindsey had first gotten boobs. He had known the meaning of “subtle” even less back then. 
“You want to go there?” You raise both eyebrows at him briefly. 
Mike laughs. 
Dustin glares deeper. 
“Dusty …I’m not encroaching on your friends —whatever that even means,” you sigh. “But they’re in my grade and in my classes. We kind of know each other, that’s all.”
“Whatever” 
“You should be glad I do — remember when you had questions about them?” 
“I guess….”
“Yeah, at least she’s cool. Nancy doesn’t know anything about them and probably wouldn’t talk to them,” Mike complains. 
“Cool? Yeah right”
“Hey!” 
“We’ll maybe she’s not cool cool“
“Right here guys! Hello!”
“—but in the same way we aren’t. I mean it’s cool of her that she likes these guys,” Mike explains himself. 
Well you can accept that as a compliment — you understand what he’s getting at. 
“…she’s embarrassing.” 
“Oh! Then I could send mom in to fetch you from now on…”
“No!” Dustin straightens. “No, she  will embarrass me. Please don’t. I’m sorry. You’re the best. You’re doing me a huge favor.” 
My, my how his tone has changed!
“Us.  You’re doing  us  a favor,” Mike leans in from the back. “Thank you.” 
“Yeah — thanks”
You grin. 
“Make sure you boys remember that next time then”
___________
Next Chapter
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elvain · 8 months
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1, 23, 46?
1. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?
i have always been partial to chaptered fics! i enjoy having space to fully flesh out an idea and the accompanying characters. it is very possible i will turn some current one-shots into chaptered fics in the future, once life gets out of my way lmao. i do like one-shots but completing things i write makes me a little sad sometimes so i like dragging it out w chaptered fics
23. Best writing advice for other writers?
1: never feel bad for not writing. sometimes i go days without a single thought in my head about writing, and that's okay. sometimes people can write for days on end or have a daily routine, which is also okay. it is not a race or a competition of any sort. writing is first and foremost an act of joy and you should strive to only do it when it can bring you joy 2: write what you know and are passionate about before you challenge yourself. it's so difficult to go into an entirely new concept/fandom/pairing right off the bat - and then it's really easy to feel bad about your writing as a result. write something you know and are confident with first and then take the leap and challenge yourself! doesn't have to be a multichapter or even a one-shot. for example, i wrote Almost before i wrote Beau Monde bc the former is what i was more comfortable with and the latter is kicking my ass in terms of how challenging it can be.
46. How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)
i think i am an emotionally-driven writer. it's important to me that i understand what my characters (original or fanfic) are going through/feeling before i can confidently write it out. but i think character-driven and emotion-driven writing can overlap a lot and mine is one of those cases!
fanfic writer asks
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essence0fsilence · 9 months
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For the fic writer asks: 3, 18, 29!
I'm sorry, I like rambling. I'm sure this is going to get long so I'll go ahead and drop this here:
#3 - What's your favorite fic that you've written?
It's between Recovery Takes: and The Sweetest Betrayal.
Recovery Takes: was all about recovering from trauma - honestly a lot of my fics have arcs of recovery or coping, but I think this was the best balance I've gotten. It was the first times I started a multi-chapter fic with an actual plan in mind and finished it completely satisfied with what I set out to do. I was proud of myself for reigning in the angst and actually focusing on the recovery aspect. It's the first fic I've actually been proud of. Plus I was able to touch on a lot of my favorite headcannons while processing trauma!
The Sweetest Betrayal was just so fun to write! I have so many Palletshipping headcannons of Pikachu being Gary's little partner in crime and I just adore them. I used ideas for fics that I knew I likely wouldn't ever get around to and I'm happy with how it came out. I love writing the domestic slice-of-life romance and writing it through Ash's eyes always makes it more fun.
#18 - What's one of your favorite lines you've written in a fic?
"Everything we know eventually is just a memory.... Being a memory is inevitable, so it's important to enjoy making good memories." (Gary to Ash in Just A Memory)
I've dealt with a lot of death and this pretty much sums up my sorta philosophy for life (at least, I try to live by it... chronic pain does not make that easy). It was also a Halloween fic and Halloween's always been my favorite holiday (even had a Halloween wedding), plus in my witchcraft days Samhain was a pretty big deal for me, so that fic is special because of all that.
#29 - Share a bit from a fic you'll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic.
During the pandemic, I decided I had to do something I had never gotten to do as a biology student or a science teacher: dissect owl pellets. It was really neat but also very tedious and it inspired me to write this little Palletshippy drabble.
Ash was bored. 
This wasn’t entirely abnormal, especially when he was the third wheel for the love affair that was Gary and his research. 
He didn’t mind it, not really. 
He couldn’t mind it when it meant that his partner was working with incredible pokemon that he had resurrected from fossils or when it meant that they spent days on end in the field together observing wild pokemon. 
He could even suck it up when he had to tag along with Gary to a conference or some stuffy event where he had to dress up and pretend he belonged there. Those events bored Gary as much as they did Ash... 
It was honestly fascinating much of the time. Learning more about pokemon than Ash ever expected, seeing pokemon that he never expected to be able to see alive and in the flesh, seeing the way Gary’s eyes lit up when he found something. It was usually great.
But sometimes… 
Sometimes the science was just boring.
Sometimes it was sitting in the same place while Gary typed away on his laptop for hours on end. Sometimes it was waiting while Gary fussed with a microscope for forty minutes straight. 
And sometimes it was waiting on him to finish picking apart a clump of fur and bones found on the forest floor. Something that had been interesting for the first five minutes… when Gary had pulled out a small skull and briefly explained noctowl predation and digestion and how swallowing their prey whole left undigested clumps in their throat that they later… Well. Gary hadn’t said they puked it up, but that was what Ash had understood. 
But now, over an hour later - with Gary having spent most of that time separating fur from miniscule bones that he was somehow able to identify - Ash was starting to get frustrated.
“Gary…”
“I told you, you should have gone and trained.”
“I didn’t think it would take this long.”
Gary sighed and leaned back from his makeshift workstation, stretching his arms over his head. “Neither did I, honestly."
“Why do you have to do this again?” 
“To observe the food chain and the health of the ecosystem.”
“But don’t you already know what noctowls eat?”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point, Ash.”
“Then what is the point?”
“It’s data, Ash. Dissecting pellets can give all sorts of information about the biodiversity and populations in an area."
"Why does everything have to be data? I'm sick of hearing about data," Ash whined.
"Science is data-driven, Ash. You can't have science without it."
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laximpulsion · 2 years
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Postmortem Analysis/Director's Cut Commentary: while you were looking for a landslide i was looking out for you
finishing a fic feels great! i should really finish things more often lol. not just writing but...literally anything.
i love writing fatin's POV. she is so funny, relatively self aware, and my favorite of all, pretty direct and straightforward. i find i dont agonize over her inner voice that much, like i can usually just write it and feel fairly confident that it's in-character
in hindsight there are probably a couple things i might have changed once i finished the whole thing, mostly just organization/structure related or places i would've fleshed out a little more now that i know where things end up. but overall not bad for something i wrote as i went along!
speaking of which, the write-as-you-go thing was fine but not sure if i want to make a habit out of it. for the followup i definitely want to at least have a multi-chapter cushion before i start posting, if not actually finish the thing.
something else i learned about myself during the posting process is that i am actually probably more impatient for the next update than anyone who reads my stuff lol
every time i said "fuck proofreading" i regretted it. i usually proofread at least 5 times (not back to back, but at different stages of the writing process) before posting; anything less than that and i usually wished i hadnt been so impatient
i just learned recently that average novel length is like 60k to 100k words?! so i wrote a novel...ummm? did NOT feel like it though honestly
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xieyouji-xiegushi · 9 months
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Just What I Needed (Chapter 2)
Cross-posting my fics while AO3 is down! This is a multi-chapter fic; please check out the contents page for additional tags, overall CWs and other chapters before reading!
Title: Just What I Needed (Chapter 2) Fandom: Supernatural Rating: E Ship: Destiel Chapter 2 CWs: references to gender-based violence Summary: All Sam and Dean have to their names right now is $200, a '67 Chevy Impala, and a lead.
Dean parked up and walked purposefully into the library. It was the main library in the city, so it was large, and quite busy. There were three floors, with hundreds of shelves and lots of what appeared to be reading rooms off to the sides. He walked up to the front desk, glancing at the noticeboard, which was covered with flyers for various community events. The librarian was staring at her ancient computer screen, absorbed. Dean chuckled at the irony, and she looked up.
“Hello. How can I help you?”
“Yeah, it’s my first time here. Can you point me in the direction of the archive room? I’m looking for newspapers.”
“Of course. It’s this way,” the librarian replied as she got up to show him to the room. The archive room was on the first floor, through a small door just past the top of the stairs. It was moderately sized, but stuffed full of cabinets and shelves.
“What era are you looking for?”
“Roughly the last 30 years. Probably major headlines.”
“Well, everything is organised chronologically. Oldest editions are at the back. You can search for specific stories using the terminal in the corner. Do you know how to use the microfiche? Not everything has been digitised yet.”
“That’s fine, I’m no stranger to the microfiche. Thanks for your help.”
The librarian flashed him a friendly smile. “If you need anything else, I’m at the front desk all day.”
“Got it, thanks.”
Dean waited until she left and closed the door behind her, before heading over to the computer terminal. He tapped in some keywords; “body, murder, river, mutilation”. Not a search that he really wanted an audience for.
The lead that Dean was following up, the one that had brought them to this city, was one that had been on his dad’s to-do list for a while. Every now and again, a string of mutilated corpses turned up at the riverside. According to the journal, the killings seemed to follow a sort of spree pattern – first, just one, then a break, then another, and then quickly speeding up before stopping, usually for months, sometimes longer. Dean hadn’t really been sure it would be their kind of job, until he’d seen the crime scene photos of the most recent victim. The body, a young woman, had been covered in burns and lacerations, even missing chunks of flesh, but the final cause of death was strangulation. Dean had no idea what kind of creature would do that, but he was sure it couldn’t be human.
The ancient terminal beeped as it finally returned the search results. As expected, there were several, going back a couple of decades at least. Dean grabbed the relevant slides from the shelves, before transferring to the microfiche table. He sifted through the articles, one by one. By all accounts, there had been over 100 victims. Dean was confused. Why hadn’t he heard about this? Possible supernatural activity aside, 100 people don’t usually just get brutally murdered without some kind of public outcry. This should have been national news. There should have been a documentary about it. But there wasn’t. even more dumfoundingly, after the first one or two of each spree, the articles were not even on the front page. By the end of each cycle, there was just a note in the middle of the paper:
Three Weeks Since Last River Killing It has been three weeks since a corpse has been found at the riverside. A total of 27 women died. Police have no leads and are considering the matter closed.
Closed? What kind of police force finds 27 bodies, and then gives up on the case after three weeks? Dean felt uneasy. Something very, very weird was going on in this town. He needed to get to the bottom of it, before whatever creature it was started up its next cycle.
After taking copies of all the articles, Dean decided to call it a day on the research and get his brake pads fixed. He wandered out of the library, waving at the friendly librarian, and back to the car. After a quick search on his phone, he went off in the direction of the nearest mechanic.
The mechanic wanted $200 for parts and labour, but Dean managed to haggle him down to $150, which meant he would still be able to fill up the tank after. The garage had the parts to hand (for some reason), so he sat down to wait. In the meantime, he pulled out his phone, and tapped the icon of a yellow mask.
Grindr. Certainly a unique experience. Now that apps like Tinder and Hinge existed, any pretence of Grindr being a dating app had fallen away, and everyone still on it was willing to admit they were only looking for hook-ups. Dean had met Max on Grindr. He’d met a few people on there.
Dean was genuinely bisexual, but he wasn’t on Grindr purely for fun. Hooking up was pretty easy, and he was confident enough to do it in person. No, what Dean was looking for was where his and Sam’s next meal was coming from.
It had started a few months ago when their cash had started to run low. At first, he just did it occasionally, as a way to get an extra treat, or at least a meal that wasn’t packet ramen or gas station hot dogs. After a while, he’d gotten good at the scam. He’d roped Sam in to help him out with the exit calls. They usually didn’t stay in town long, so he could go out on a few dates and then disappear before he got a reputation. These days, they got most of their meals this way, which meant they could stretch their cash further. Their cash, which had just run out. Dean swallowed as he remembered the last $50 remaining in his wallet. He would figure it out. He always figured something out.
He checked his messages. There was nothing out of the ordinary. A few unsolicited dick pics. About twenty variations of “hi”, “pics?” and “u accom?”. Dean sighed. None of these looked particularly promising. Suddenly, the app made it signature ding. He opened the new message straight away.
hey. nice pics can I ask a question?
Dean tapped on the profile picture (this guy actually had one!) and scrolled the profile. He seemed relatively normal; there was some simple information about himself, such as his job and his hobbies, as well as the more Grindr-specific stuff: height, weight, tribe (Geek, apparently), relationship status (single), and HIV status (Negative, on PrEP). Dean scrolled through his pictures (more than one!). Dark hair, nice eyes, sharply dressed. He looked young, maybe mid-thirties, definitely younger that Dean’s usual targets, but his clothes looked nice, and he had at least two different expensive-looking watches. Dean checked the profile again – Data Analyst. He had no idea what that was, but it sounded like it came with a decent paycheck. He decided to take a chance.
hi :) yours too sure, go ahead _________________ what’s your favourite colour? umm.  red? what about you? _________________ tan your turn _________________ to ask a question? okay uh favourite band? _________________ easy duran duran
Dean laughed, and then swiftly tried to stifle it with his sleeve. Who was still listening to 80s new wave?
you? _________________ led zep the only right answer _________________ aren’t you a bit young for classic rock? _________________ aren’t you a bit young for new wave? they should call it old wave
A minute or two passed, with no reply. Dean hoped he hadn’t offended the guy. He had a sharp wit, but not everyone appreciated his sense of humour.
old wave haha you’re funny okay last question favourite chain restaurant? _________________ oh that’s a good one cheesecake factory
Actually, Dean hated the Cheesecake Factory, but the giant portions and eye-watering number of preservatives meant that he and Sam could live off the leftovers for like four days. He really hoped that this was a line, and not a test to see how refined he was. The guy had specified a chain restaurant. That didn’t really imply fancy.
oh nice me too can I buy you dinner tonight?
Dean grinned. He’d got a live one. Plus, this guy seemed like he might actually be fun to hang out with. At least, until Dean scammed him. He didn’t get many second dates after that.
sounds great! 7ish? let me know where i’m kinda new to town _________________ 7 is perfect where are you staying? i could pick you up _________________
Yeah, no thanks. Dean wasn’t about to list his address as ‘Dean Winchester, Front Seat, Chevy Impala, Abandoned Car Park’ like he was Alice in Wonderland.
no worries got my own wheels just send the location i’ll meet you there _________________ great! by the way my name is castiel _________________ nice to meet you castiel i’m aaron _________________ nice to meet you aaron can’t wait to see you! _________________ see you later! _________________
Right as he sent the last message, the mechanic shouted that his brakes were done. He just had time to get gas before he picked Sam up from school. He pulled up at the gate, and Sam climbed into the passenger seat, lugging a heavy bag full of books with him.
“How was your day?”
“Not bad. I like this school. The teachers are nice.”
Dean looked at his brother fondly. He definitely had a better attitude towards education than Dean, or their dad, ever did. Dean couldn’t wait to get out of the place. Sam actually seemed to enjoy it.
“I made some progress on the case. There’s been over 100 victims!”
“What? Why didn’t we hear about it?”
“Well, based on the articles,” Dean pulled the printed copies out of the folder he’d shoved in the door pocket, “nobody seems to really care. Police didn’t even bother to do a proper investigation.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Anything connecting the victims?”
“They’re mostly young women, early twenties. Some a little older. But there’s not much information about them, who they were. More about… what was done to them. I’m gonna try the police station tomorrow, see what I can dig up.”
Sam looked down, pensive. He was empathetic, and just as lost as Dean as to what could have done this, and why nobody seemed to have tried to stop it. Dean decided to change the subject.
“In other news, I’ve got a date tonight.”
“That was fast. Where?”
“Cheesecake Factory. That means we’ll be fed for a few days.”
“Awesome. Do you think you can swing me some apple pie?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll just not eat my dinner, order dessert and then bail. I’ll get what I can.”
“I know, I know. What’s the guy like? Old?”
“Not so much, actually. I don’t know. He seems nice. I might even feel bad afterwards. Well, until I’m done eating, anyway.”
Sam chuckled. “Well, I hope you have a good time. I’ll hang out at the library. I’ve got a tonne of homework.”
“Sure. We’ve got a couple of hours before I need to leave, though. What do you wanna do?”
“Let’s just go sit in the park or something. The sun’s out.”
“Sounds good, Sammy.”
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indaysinaya · 1 year
Text
Chapter 13- Bangka Ride
AMILYN
“So what’s this whole festival thingy? Seems like a big deal around here, with the mandatory attendance and all,” I ask Mary as we walk toward…well, somewhere.
“Oh yeah. It is a big deal. The harvest festival happens once a year, and is the biggest yearly gathering of bagani-kind around the whole world. Everyone comes home to celebrate it. Basically it marks the end of the harvest season, and we get to thank the deities for the bountiful harvest of the year. I heard it’s really fun, games and all that,” Mary replies as she leads the way to our destination.
Hmm, so like some sort of intramural? That sounds nice. A nice, multi-hair-color intramural with fun games and recreation. That should be nice and normal enough, right?
Boy was I wrong.
First off, the ride to said event is on some sort of …boat?
I’m not sure if it qualifies as a boat. First of all, it’s shaped like a giant egg, but half of the the shell has been removed and all that remains is the jelly-like membrane to separate the outside from the inside structure. The oblong structure is divided in two: the upper part and the lower part. The upper part is see-through, protected by the aforementioned jelly-like substance, and the lower area comprising of some sort of white wall. There are several of such structures floating above the river.
“There it is. Lucky we got here early. Any later and we’ll have to compete with a hoard to get on those,” Mary enthusiastically exclaims as she heads for the structure.
“Uhh…what is that?” I manage to ask as I not so enthusiastically follow her.
“That,” she replies, pointing at the structure, “is our ride back to the surface. We call it a bangka. It’s Tagalog for boat, though I know it’s not so boat-looking. It’s made of bakunawa eggshells from ancient times. The ancestors who dwell in the seas converted them to boats because the shell is made of really sturdy stuff,” she explains as she approaches one of the boats.
That’s one big egg, I think to myself as we approach.
I wonder how big a baby bakunawa is to come out of such a huge egg.
Then again, I’m not really looking forward to meeting something that’s already this big as a baby. Imagine how much larger it would be fully grown.
We both enter the nearest so called boat. The inside is as you would expect a giant shell to be shaped as. There are no edges inside. Seats are arranged in small rows of threes on both sides, all facing the part where the driver is supposed to sit.
But now that I look closely, there is no driver’s seat. The entire interior is filled with passenger seats, but no room for the man on the helm.
“But how does it run? I don’t see any sails or engines? And where is the driver supposed to sit? I don’t see anyone.” I ask.
“Oh, this entire thing is pulled by giant flying fish. And the driver is under water, some siren or syokoy from the cove should be manning it somewhere. They don’t like to be seen, their kind,” Mary replies, choosing a seat near the door.
“Sirens? We have sirens? Those are real? And flying fish? Are they magic too?” I excitedly ask, somehow eager to meet more supposed-to-be mythical creatures in the flesh.
“Yeah, sirens are real. But don’t get too excited about them. It’s pretty rare to see one, even with us living next to a colony. And about the fish, no, they’re not magic. They’re just really big fish. The sirens raise them in the pens near their cove.”
Oh, so no chance of seeing magic siren or magic flying fish. Too bad, I was kinda looking forward to it too. I mean, at least they don’t sound as dangerous as giant egg baby or whatever we have to use centipedes for.
It doesn’t take much longer for more people to arrive. In fact, a few minutes later and a cue for the boats finally starts to form. Mary helpfully informs me that about ten thousand pinili study at Pinag-adlawan at any given time, and thus there are ten thousand students that these boats have to bring to the surface. Apparently, there will be dozens of similar boats in five of the main rivers (there are eight main rivers, but three aren’t accessible to the public).
After our boat fills up, the journey begins.
The boat lurches forward, and slowly, we dive.
This time, we use a much more spacious passage, enough for the boat to comfortably glide past without bumping into the walls. Fishes swim beside us, curiously eyeing us as we go. Just as I remember, the walls of the cave light up in a dull white glow, highlighting various formations here and there.
Once, we pass by one of those dragon-snake hybrid that guards the entrances. It lets us pass, swimming to the edge of the cave to allow more room for us. It’s just as huge as I remembered it to be, long enough to match the size of the boat. Just as before, it doesn’t harm us.
Not long after, we make it to the main river, and up we go to the surface.
The boat breaks through the water, and we are greeted by the warm sunlight. One by one we exit the boat. I take one look back, just in time to see one of the fish that’s dragging the boat emerge. And boy Mary sure did mean it when she said they are huge. Those things are about the size of a fully-grown human!
We emerge to what looks like a large field. From here I can see that it does indeed look like harvest season has just ended. I see rice stalks cut in half, the entire scene colored by a dull yellow turning light brown. The air smells like freshly-cut grass.
Being the first boat to depart, I expected us to be the first ones here. To my surprise though, there are about fifty people here, busily milling about.
“The datu’s entourage, here to prepare for the festival,” Mary explains when she sees a big question mark on my face.
“The WHAT’s entourage now?” I ask, still eyeing the men.
“The datu. You know, the highest-ranking official of Pinag-adlawan? The leader of the bagani? The strongest fighter? The GOAT? Big old man? That ring any bells?”
“I didn’t know we have a king here.”
“Of course we do. Well, kind of. He’s our leader. Who would manage such a large organization if we didn’t have leaders? But he’s more like a president than a king. You know, duly elected instead of being born into power. We’re a democracy, that’s what we are,” she further explains.
“Ah. I guess that does make sense.”
“I think they’re preparing to summon Dumangan. Great view we have here. We can clearly see them,” Mary comments, settling down on a slab of rock.
“Summon who?”
“Dumangan. God of harvest. He’s the main thing every festival. Can’t have a harvest festival without the god of harvest now, can we?”
“So we get to see an actual god? Like, in person?” I ask in disbelief.
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Sit down here. When the crowd’s all gathered they’ll summon him.”
“So you actually get to meet the gods here? Is that a normal thing?” I ask again.
“Yeah.  So far I’ve met Mankukutod when he was blessing the coconut trees at the base, and apparently we’re supposed to meet Apolaki when we start classes. Plenty more gods and goddesses, plenty of opportunities to meet them.  Come on, sit down. Let’s get comfortable while we wait. Here I brought some suman,” she invites, handing me the familiar snack.
I gladly accept, eagerly grabbing the snack, already looking forward to meeting one of the gods we’re supposed to be serving.
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strongerwiththepack · 4 years
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Sensory Sunday: See
A new challenge you say? I am in. Believe it or not I have a half written fic on my laptop for IRRelief but I never got round to finishing it - whoops! Anyways, I work better with a deadline so managed to bash this one out today. It felt really good to be writing again, thanks so much for organising another challenge for us @gumnut-logic!
Gordon groaned into his pillow at the sound of the claxon but jumped out of bed nonetheless. Glancing at the clock he calculated that he’s barely gotten 3 hours of sleep and rubs his eyes tiredly. When he gets to the lounge Scott’s already there with John. Virgil and Alan are still out on their own rescue. Gordon was usually Virgil’s primary co-pilot but he’d been out on a solo rescue at an underwater research centre when the call had come in so Alan had taken his place.
Scott seemed to be arguing with John when he walked in. “-didn’t have to wake him, I can handle it.”
John glared. “You won’t be able to use the autopilot on One in those winds Scott, this is a two man job.”
John seemed to notice him then. “Sorry Gordon, I know you didn’t get much sleep. You feel up to it?”
Gordon stretched his arms above his head and grinned. “Totally. I am well rested and raring to go.”
He reckoned the statement was kind of ruined by the fact he was still in his pjs with bed-head but he tried his best.
Scott rolled his eyes at the statement as he made his way over to his chute. “Fine, suit-up Gordon but you are off duty for 12 hours minimum when we get back.”
“Aye-aye captain” he said with a salute while running towards his elevator.
Scott briefed him on the situation while they flew. A climber had gotten his ropes tangled on the side of a cliff in the French Alps. He was caught on the rocks and had broken his leg when he’d been slammed into the side of the side of the cliff. Mountain Rescue couldn’t get to him due to the growing wind in the area.
Gordon wondered how idiotic you had to be to scale a mountain at this time of year by yourself. That was like rule number one of rock climbing - always have a buddy. Hell, he wasn’t even allowed to go rock climbing on Tracy Island without one of his brothers. It was just common sense.
Gordon rarely flew in Thunderbird One and it was crazy how quickly they got there. Don’t get him wrong he loved Thunderbird Two but he had to admit he was impressed. Even if he had been pushed back into his seat by the G-forces the whole way.
Scott slowed as they reached their destination and John came on the line to direct them to the climbers location. With the reduced speed Gordon was able to stand up and prep for the rescue. He pulled on his helmet and strapped into a harness at the hatch of his brothers bird.
Scott voice sounded through his comm. “Okay Gordon I have sights on the climber, we’re about as close as we’re gonna get.”
Gordon gave confirmation that he was ready and Scott opened the hatch. The wind was harsh as it roared through the opening. Thunderbird One was even swaying slightly as his brother fought to keep her still.
Gordon hooked Thunderbird One’s grappling cable to his belt before taking out his own grappling gun. Scott could have shot One’s grappling cable out on his own but in these winds there was too big a risk of hitting the climber. It was safer for Gordon to grapple across first and attach the bulkier line by hand.
He shot his grapple gun towards the top edge of the cliff, well above the climber, and grinned when it attached straight away.
“Oh yeah, got it in one.” He boasted over the comms. “Heading out now.”
He could practically hear Scott’s eye roll over the comm. “FAB Gordon.”
Gordon braced himself and pulled the cord taunt before jumping down out of the hatch. He sailed across in a smooth arc through the piercing winds and bent his knees as he collided with the rock. He quickly found some hand-holds to steady himself and started making his way over to the climber who was a couple of metres to his right.
He knew John had been in contact with the climber but he called out anyway. “Hey there, heard you got yourself in a bit of trouble here.”
The guy was pretty much flattened against the cliff, one leg hanging loosely while the other was bent up onto a foothold, trying to take some of his weight off of his ropes. His teeth were chattering and his cheeks were red and starting to blister.
Hypothermia. Gordon thought grimly. The guy had been exposed to extreme icy winds for over an hour now. With the broken leg Gordon knew he could be dealing with shock as well
The guy did manage to give him a small smile that turned more into a grimace. “International Rescue.” He said with a relived tone. “Boy am I glad to see you.”
The guy was older than Gordon had expected but he could tell the man must have been a seasoned climber. He had all the right gear and looked to be in pretty good shape for his age. Kind of reminded Gordon of his dad.
Gordon smiled. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Gordon scanned the ropes and decided there was no use trying to salvage them. With the cold and the mans broken leg it would be better just to get the man secure and cut the ropes.
“We’ll get that leg set as soon as we’re inside Thunderbird One okay? Any other injuries?” Gordon asked as he attached another carabiner to the man harness, attaching the man to himself.
He looked up as the man shook his head. His heart stopped as he caught sight of something over the mans shoulder. Hardly 10 meters away was one of the chaos crews bombs. There was a blinking light that was steadily getting faster. Dammit.
No time for taking it slow now. He quickly attached the man to one of the ziplines hanging from the line coming from Thunderbird One. His own line was already attached so he gave a quick yank of the line, making sure it was secure before all but pushing the man off the cliff yelling “GO!”
The man yelped as he was suddenly airborne and Gordon followed close behind. He winced as the mans broken leg slammed against Thunderbird One’s interior as they made it inside but he didn’t have time to do anything. He turned back and pressed the manual release of the grapple line to detach them from the mountain.
“What the hell Gordon!?” Scott’s angry voice sounded over the comm. He’d basically broken every single safety procedure they had.
“Go Scott! Get away from the mountain! We’re in.” He yelled. There would be time for explanations when they were out of range of the blast zone. Gordon knew the damage one of Fuse’s bombs could cause.
He knew Scott wanted to shout at him some more but he couldn’t fault his brothers trust in him when they quickly flew away from the cliffside. The hatch started closing as Gordon helped get the man strapped into a seat. He didn’t want to cause the guy any more damage if this thing exploded and rocked their ship.
Gordon realised if there was a bomb on the mountain, the chaos crew couldn’t be far away. He didn’t want to admit that thought made his heart beat a bit faster. The memories of his last encounter weren’t going away anytime soon.
“Scott be careful, I think the chaos crew are in the area.” He warned across the comm link.
“Dammit.” Scott swore, his voice tinted with a growl. “John, can you see anything on the scanners.”
“Nothing Scott.” John was quick to reply. “They could have upgraded their cloaking technology though. EOS is running a more thorough scan.”
“FAB, John. Why do you think they’re here Gordon?”
“I saw one of their bombs on the mountain. It was about to blow.”
John hummed across the line. “There haven’t been any explosions in the area as far as I can see.”
“Maybe it was one of those proximity bombs or something.” Gordon theorised.
Johns answer was crisp. “I’ll look into it.”
Gordon couldn’t help the unease he was feeling as he got himself back into the mindset of a rescuer and returned to helping the climber.
“Sorry about the rough landing.” He tried to keep his voice light. “Let’s take a look at that leg.”
The man just nodded clearly still a bit shaken.
Gordon made his way back to the cockpit once they’d unloaded the climber to the local hospital. He gave the man a few choice words about not climbing alone in the future but from the pat on the shoulder and the alright sonny he’d received, he was pretty sure it hadn’t gone in.
He sat down heavily in the cockpit and once they were airborne Scott switched to autopilot and swivelled in his chair to face the younger man.
“Are you okay?” Scott eyed him wearily.
Gordon could understand the concern. That was his first encounter with anything hood-related since his accident.
“I’m fine, Scott.”
At the pointed look he received he sighed. “Honestly, Scott, I am.”
“Okay.” Scott conceded. “Talk me through what happened.”
When Gordon was done Scott gave him a confused look. “Why would the hood go to the trouble of placing a bomb and then not show up? Or even detonate it for that matter.”
Gordon just shrugged. He’d been wondering the same thing. In fact, he was still wired up waiting for a surprise attack. Anywhere they found chaos crew tech, the chaos crew were never far away. And they always showed up.
“Did the climber say anything?”
Gordon shook his head. “Said he didn’t even see the bomb. Don’t know how he missed it, it must’ve been right next to him for the whole hour he was there.”
Scott frowned at that. Something just wasn’t right here. “John notified the GDF, they’re going to scout out the area in a few hours once the storm has passed.”
Gordon just nodded at the statement. “Good.”
Gordon woke up that afternoon feeling a lot better after a good 8 hours of sleep. Despite it being the early hours of the morning when they’d gotten back last night he’d had to do a pretty thorough debrief with Scott and he was practically falling asleep standing up by the time they’d finished.
He wandered through to the lounge with a towel hung over his shoulder. With all the stress yesterday, he really needed to get in some laps of the pool.
He found Scott at their fathers desk later in the day. “Hey Scott, any word from the GDF?”
“Yes and no.” His brother replied cryptically with a sigh. Gordon caught the bags under his brothers eyes and knew Scott hadn’t slept as well as he had. He had a worried afterthought that maybe Scott hadn’t slept at all but John was usually on top of that.
Gordon rolled his eyes when his brother didn’t continue. “Are you going to elaborate or..?”
Scott seemed to have forgotten he was there as he looked up from the computer again. He must be working on something. “Uh yeah sorry Gordo.”
“The GDF combed the area but they couldn’t find anything. Not a trace that someone had even been there let alone any tech from the chaos crew.”
Gordon frowned and Scott eyed him wearily. “John’s been monitoring the area as well and he hasn’t found anything, not even a blip in the data…listen Gordon, are you 100% sure you saw something?”
Gordon could hear the reluctance in his brothers voice as he asked the question but it still stung a little. He became defensive. “Yes! It was there Scott.”
Scott held up his hands in a placating manor, but Gordon felt it gave off more of a patronising feel. “Just a question Gords. The visibility wasn’t great and it was a high stress situation, I’m just asking if you’re sure.”
Gordon frowned and actually took a second to think back. The visibility hadn’t been great but he’d seen it! He couldn’t have missed it with the red blinking lights counting down to his doom.
“I’m sure Scott.” He said decisively.
Scott nodded at his statement. “We’ll keep looking into it, if the hood has a new cloaking technology we need to know about it.”
When Scott went back to typing away on his computer Gordon couldn’t help but notice the slither of doubt present on his eldest brothers face. The pain he felt at the slight loss of trust was hard.
There was another call a few hours later. A cave-in, multiple groups of climbers scattered throughout the complex mining system. This was an all hands on deck sort of job, luckily Gordon had just passed the 12 hour mark since their last rescue.
He and Alan were burrowing into the East mining site on foot while Scott and Virgil took the West and Central sites respectively. There was only a short tiff from Alan about having to be babysat. If Gordon was honest, he was pretty sure it was himself who was being ‘babysat’ but he didn’t let Alan know that.
Honestly, he quite enjoyed rescues with his baby brother. Alan was much easier to wind up than Virgil and much less dangerous to wind up than Scott. Don’t even get started on the complex task that is winding up John. This was just some fun banter with his little brother who could definitely fire back as good as he got it.
“Y’know every time I look at you in your uniform it just reminds me of when you used to dress up as a power ranger.” Gordon hummed as they walked. Alan’s face turned thunderous and he knew he hit a good one.
“Maybe it’s the shoulder pads” he continued musing as he placed a hand on his chin in mock contemplation. “Oooor” he drawled out. “It’s just the fact that you’re still a little sprout with a babyface.”
Alan glared at him.
“Grandma says I’m going to grow taller than you.” His little brother huffed, sticking out his tongue at the end just to add to Gordon’s enjoyment of the childish statement.
“Oh definitely.” He nodded back. “Going to go from a baby sprout to a bean sprout just like Johnny. Maybe you’ll get the bad coordination to go with it.”
“I can hear you, you know Gordon.” John lectured through his watch.
Gordon at least had the grace to give a sheepish look at his space-bound brother.
“Sorry Johnny.” He grinned with basically no conviction behind the words.
“Mmm-hmm” John shot back.
Alan turned around, giving him a sickly-sweet smile. “You know, we all know you’re just overcompensating for your own height. Too bad you can’t grow out of that one.”
With the cheesy grin on his brothers face Gordon knew he thought he’d got him with that one. Gordon couldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“I’ll have you know I am very comfortable with- ALAN MOVE!”
All Alan had time to do was widen his eyes in panic and start to turn to glance over his shoulder before Gordon grabbed his brother and forcibly shove him behind him. Alan wasn’t ready for that though and lost his footing, taking Gordon down with him.
Alan cried out as they landed hard on the ground and Gordon panicked, thinking it had got him. He looked around wildly but saw nothing. The needed to move.
“What the hell Gordon!?” He heard Alan grunt out.
He practically full-on lifted his brother off the ground in his hurry to get out of there and he didn’t miss his Alans hiss of pain as he cradled his wrist to his chest. He mentally stored that information away for later and gave his brother a light push back towards the way they’d come.
“Run.”
“What’s going on Gordon?” John questioned with a hint of stress behind his words.
They were still running as Gordon answered, keeping Alan in front of him and glancing back frantically to make sure nothing was following them.
“A mecha tried to attacked Alan!”
“A mecha? The Mechanic is in custody Gordon, it couldn’t have been a mecha.”
“Well considering one almost just electrocuted Alan, I think you might want to double check that Johnny.” He huffed out.
“FAB Gordon, I’ll inform Scott and Virgil.”
Gordon didn’t let them stop running until the broke out into the sunlight again. Both him and Alan took a second to pant as they regained their breath. Gordon focused on his little brothers’ wrist immediately which he still held cradled to his chest.
“You okay?” he asked.
Alan grimaced. “Think I sprained my wrist.”
You mean you think I sprained your wrist. Gordon thought darkly as he recalled pushing his brother to the floor.
“Let get it wrapped in Two.” He sighed.
Virgil came running up to them then.
“What the hell happened?” Virgil exclaimed, seemingly trying to assess both his brothers simultaneously as his head pinballed between them almost comically.
“There are mechas in the tunnels!” Gordon told his brother worriedly. “Where’s Scott?”
“He’s on his way out with a group of miners.” Vigil hyper-focused onto Alan’s wrist as Gordon internally winced at the fact that him and Alan had abandoned the miners they were supposed to rescue.
“The mecha did this?” Virgil questioned Alan as he turned his brother’s wrist over gently.
“Uh, well not exactly.” Alan said sheepishly, looking at Gordon apologetically. “Gordon push me out of the way, and I fell on it.”
“Sorry Al.” Gordon said sincerely.
Alan waved him off, but Gordon still felt bad.
Scott joined them while they were in Two’s medbay. Alan sat on one of the pull-out beds, wrist wrapped tightly and had taken a couple of mild painkillers to chase away the ache.
Gordon startled as Scott came storming into the room.
“Mechas!? I thought we were done with those! What’s going on?”
John popped up then, like he always did when answers were needed. “I’ve spoken to the GDF, they’ve confirmed The Mechanic is still in custody.”
“So, the hood is using mechas now? Or the chaos crew?” Scott questioned, running a hand through his hair stiffly. Gordon could practically see them turning grey on the spot.
“It doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t have any answers right now.” John said with a frown. It wasn’t often John couldn’t provide the answers and Gordon knew it made him uncomfortable.
“There’s something else.” John said wearily. “I’m still not picking up any signs of any hostiles in the area.”
“What are you saying John?” Scott prodded.
“I should be picking up something on my scanners Scott. Even if the chaos crew aren’t here I should be able to pick up the mechas, I’ve always been able to in the past. There’s just nothing.”
Scott sighed. “FAB John, just keep looking.”
John pursed his lips as if he wanted to say something else but signed off nonetheless.
“We need to go back in to get the last group of climbers.” Scott said wearily.
Gordon started. “The GDF-“
“-won’t get here before this whole tunnelling system collapses” Scott countered quickly.
“How many mechas did you see?” Virgil queried from the side.
“Just the one.” Gordon answered.
“Alan?”
Alan looked like a deer caught in headlights as he looked between Virgil and Gordon. “Well to be honest, I didn’t see any.”
Scott’s brow furrowed at that one.
“Wait what? You didn’t see anything Alan?” Scott questioned.
“Uh no. Gordon pushed me down before I could look.”
Scott and Virgil shared a look and Gordon felt anger bubble up from within him, they’d clearly talked about this.
“Don’t act like I’m not here, I know what you’re thinking Scott.” Gordon growled. “I know what I saw.”
“I’m not saying anything.” Scott tried to diffuse.
There was a beat of tense silence before Scott frowned and headed over to the supply cupboards, taking out some clips to reload his grapple. The silence as he did so was deafening.
Scott put his field commander persona back in place as he continued. “Okay. Virgil, you come with me to get the last group of miners.”
“I can come too.” Gordon tried. “Safety in numbers and all that.”  
“I want you to stay with Alan” Scott said firmly in his Commander voice. Gordon knew that meant there was no room for argument.”
“Fine.” He said in a huffy voice, sitting back down in a chair.
Scott and Virgil made to leave.
“Just- “ Gordon started, stopping them. “-be careful okay?”
“FAB” Scott replied grimly as he and Virgil went back out towards the caves.
Scott and Virgil had retrieved the miners with no problems. Gordon had kind of been hoping they’d come across some trace of the Hood. He realised guiltily that he’d subconsciously been hoping his brothers would find trouble. He was glad they were safe but it would’ve been nice to have someone to backup his claims.
The trip back to the island had been pretty quiet but now was time for debrief. Gordon headed to the lounge once he’d showered and changed. He hovered in the doorway when he heard hushed angry voices in the lounge.
“What if it’s PTSD or something?” Scott whispered not-so-quietly.
“He’s not shown any other signs, you’re jumping to conclusions Scott.” That was Virgil.
“He hurt Alan! If he’s seeing things it could be dangerous.”
“No need to whisper fellas.” Gordon decided to announce his presence. “The whole island can hear you.”
“Gordon- “ Scott started, having the grace to look at least slightly guilty.
“It’s fine.” Gordon huffed as he sat down on the couch.
They waited in silence for Alan who ran in a few minutes later grinning sheepishly as Virgil glared at the damp bandages around his wrist. He was supposed to keep them dry. Gordon reckoned a trip to the infirmary was in line for his little brother once they were finished.
John popped up on cue as always and they started the debriefing. Scott talked through the actual rescue and then Gordon gave yet another account of what he saw in the mines. Albeit a much more detailed version while he was practically playing 20 questions with John and Scott. He felt like they were trying to poke holes in his story, but he tried to keep calm.
“Yeah like I said, it climbed up the wall behind Alan and pounced at him with the taser arm thing extended.”
“What was the visibility like?” Scott questioned further.
“Pretty dark but we both had our torches on and it’s kind of hard to miss a sparking spider monster in the dark Scott.” Gordon added a hint of sarcasm into his voice.
“I think Gordon’s told us enough Scott.” Virgil reasoned, always playing buffer between him and Scott.
John stepped in to give his report. “The GDF haven’t found anything in the area. And I still haven’t found anything either.”
John sounded like he was getting frustrated with himself.
“So, you pushed Alan down and it just disappeared?”
Apparently, Scott wasn’t done with his 20 questions yet.
Gordon sighed. To be honest this was the part that was bothering him as well. “Yeah, it’s weird when I knocked Alan out of the way I was sure I was in it’s path.”
He contemplated for a second before continuing. “I could’ve sworn the taser arm touched me before I fell too but I didn’t feel anything. Then I lost sight of it when I fell.”
He felt like the memory was becoming a lot clearer to him and he was finally noticing all the things that just didn’t add up.
“Come to think of it, I didn’t hear it land either.” Gordon knew he wasn’t exactly helping his story here, but he was just trying to be honest. “Those things are huge; it should have crashed to the ground.”
Everyone was staring at him now, Scott with worry, John with curiosity and confusion from both Alan and Virgil.
“What are you saying Gordon?” Scott asked gently, almost tactically.
Gordon was frustrated with this whole thing. “I don’t know okay! Something weird is going on.”
Scott spoke again, even more gently. “Listen Gordon, you’ve been through a very stressful situation when it comes to the Hood, you can tell us if you think you’re seeing things that aren’t there.”
“I know what I saw Scott!”
The concern in Scott’s eyes practically burned into his soul as his brother continued. “Paranoia is common in cases of PTSD, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Gordon scowled, scrunching his fists into the couch. “I’m not crazy Scott! Why can’t you just trust me!?”
“Well give me another answer for what’s happening then Gordon.” Scott shot back.
“I don’t know! But I know what I saw Scott!” Gordon exclaimed jumping up from the couch. All his brothers were looking at him with worried looks now and Gordon felt tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. “Why won’t you guys believe me?”
He knew he must be looking a bit crazy now but the problem was he was beginning to doubt himself as well. What if he hadn’t seen anything? Alan should have been able to see the mecha if it had been there. The climber should have noticed the bomb as well. John should have been able to pick up everything on his scanners and the GDF should have found the tech at the rescue sites.
He knows what he saw. But what if he can’t trust what he’s seeing anymore. Maybe he is imagining things. And then the worst possible thing happens. He sees a mecha on the ceiling in the corner of the living room. It just looks so unnatural in this setting that he cracks.
He sits back down heavily on the sofa and presses the heels of his hands into his head. “I don’t know what’s happening.” He whispers.
He looks back up at the ceiling and the mecha he thought he’d seen has vanished, leaving just the dark shadows of the corner. He is seeing things. His tears finally start to fall.
With tears streaming down his cheeks and panicky breaths coming from his lungs he’s not surprised when Virgil is suddenly there, kneeling down in front of him and placing hands on his shoulders.
“Just breathe Gordo. In and Out.” His brother deepens his own breathing, encouraging Gordon to imitate him. Gordon does and it gives him enough breath to let out a half-muffled sob. Virgil wraps his arms around him, and Gordon has to admit, he immediately feels slightly better. Virgil’s hugs are magic like that sometimes.
“You’re not crazy Gordon.” Virgil assures as he squeezes just a bit tighter. “We’re going to figure this out.”
Gordon sniffs, raising his own arms with a shuddering breath and hugs his brother back before tensing as his eyes catch movement on the table. He sucks in a sharp breath as his eyes watch the mecha. It’s not real. It’s not real.
But then Scott’s guilt-ridden eyes catch his own and follow his gaze. Gordon does not expect it when Scott’s eyes also widen in horror and he back-peddles away from the table so fast he almost trips.
“Holy- “
Gordon pushes Virgil off him in shock, pulling his brother up with him as he backs away, he sees Alan doing the same thing to his left. “You- you can see that?”
Scott just nods as Virgil gapes beside him.
“YES!” Gordon exclaims happily before quickly realising this is not much better of a situation. The glares he receives from his brothers prove as much.
“Sorry, sorry. Just revelling in the fact that I’m not actually going insane.” He tries to say it as a joke but his voice cracks half way though and his hands are still shaking slightly. “But I get it. New problem.”
“Why isn’t it doing anything?” Alan asks quietly and Gordon motions for his little brother to come and stand closer to him and Virgil.
“How did it even manage to get on the island?” Scott asked in bewilderment. Gordon could see the tension running through his eldest brothers body. This was their home, they were suppose to be safe here.
John’s hologram was still hovering above the table that it was standing on and a stupid part of Gordons brain was scared at his brothers supposed proximity to it. His space-bound brother was furiously typing on his keyboard with a deep frown etched onto his face.
“I don’t understand.” John exclaimed. “It’s not on any of my scanners, it shouldn’t exist!”
One of John’s hands was pulling at his hair and Gordon wondered briefly if his brother was feeling the same amount of crazy as he had just moments earlier. Well probably not the same amount, Gordon was pretty sure he’d fallen down the rabbit hole for a few minutes.
“Well I’m looking at it with my own two eyes Johnny so I can confirm it does exist.” Scott shot back.
Gordon couldn’t help himself.
“Sure you’re not seeing things Scott?”
“Not the time Gordon.” Scott grunted.
And then more of them scuttered in through the door. Another six to be precise. They scattered as they came in, covering the room.
“Dammit.” Scott swore. “Where’s Kayo?”
“She’s not on the island Scott.” John answered grimly. “I’ve called her back in but she’ll be at least another half an hour.”
“Grandma and Brains?”
“Locked in Brains’ lab, they’re aware of the situation.”
Scott nodded. “Good.”
Gordon felt Alan pushing in closer to him and peered over, noticing one of them slowly creeping towards his baby brother.
“What do we do Scott?” Gordon asked. He knew it was cruel of him to put this on his eldest brother, but he was just so used to Scott having all the answers.
“Try and get to the balcony. We can lock them inside.”
Gordon grabbed a pillow off the coach before retreating backwards towards the balcony. The mechas just seemed to stare at them as they went and Gordon thought they were going to get away easily before one started skittering towards him at a fast pace. He did the only thing he could do and threw the pillow he was holding with deadly accuracy…only to watch it soar right through the mecha.
What?
The one he’d hit seemed to shimmer slightly before reforming.
“They’re holograms!” Gordon exclaimed.
“Of course!” John gasped, a little too excitedly. “That’s why I wasn’t picking up any signals or thermals from them.”
“And why they never made any noise in the cave!” Gordon added.
Scott looked dumbfounded. “But why? Why go to all this trouble?”
It was then a low laugh sounded through the room and the mechas vanished, leaving behind a very realistic looking Hood.
“For fun Mr. Tracy”
Gordon scowled at the familiar voice.
“Hood.” Scott replied darkly. “Whatever your plan was it didn’t work, we’ve figured out your game.”
The Hood laughed under his breath, filling Gordon with unease. He even threw another pillow at the projection just to make sure he wasn’t the real thing. Thankfullt, it soared through harmlessly again.
“Knowing about them doesn’t reduce the impact Mr. Tracy. I have hundreds of microscopic projectors on your property now. They’re tiny and sophisticatedly cloaked, you’ll never find them all.”
Scott scowled, glaring at the man as he continued. “Let’s see how well you get on when you can’t even trust your own eyes.”
The man gave a roaring final laugh before signing off.
The brothers looked at each other with grim expressions. How were they going to get through this one?
Maybe tbc? I make no promises.
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atomicwriter · 3 years
Text
my teeth in your heart → xiao
00. An Amputated Soul
DESCRIPTION: in liyue, wuwang hill is spoken of as the place where the dead dwell, and there’s a fable that’s oft–repeated among the youth of qingce village. xiao knows this tale, he witnessed it firsthand, and it is as familiar to him as the wind that he coils between his fingers. he does not speak of it much, for who is he to tell it to? all he knows is that the memory is prevalent as the disembodied whispers of karmic debt that call his name.
DISCLAIMER: gender neutral reader. brief mentions of nudity and death. multi-chapter fic.
WORD COUNT: 3k.
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It’s a strange sensation.
There’s no pain, just an all-consuming numbness that spreads throughout your entire body. Your fingers flex, although you’re barely able to make sense of their movements. You can only recognize the metronome of your heartbeat as you float wistfully, the blood in your veins roaring so loud that all other sounds fall deaf to your ears. This serenity, a moment free from shouldering the hardships of the world, seems all too foreign for you, although you can��t pinpoint the exact reason why.
Here, you drift in the endless cosmos, wet and thick. You’re untethered, a lone particle with no sense of gravity in the middle of space. Reality seems discombobulated, and life consists of fractured memories that you’re unable to put together, as if you are missing the puzzle pieces necessary to do so. There’s a heavy pounding in your temples, and the tresses of your hair float around your head like wisps of smoke caught in the moonlight.
It’s when you open your eyes that you realize you can’t breathe. You suddenly become aware that you’re submerged underwater, and the previous tranquility is replaced by a fervent hysteria. Curled up in a fetal position, your bones knock together at the joints, trying for a foothold over the slick crossings of the river floor. Withal, your limbs are constricted by the water reeds, rendering you practically immobile, and your feet sink into the slick, black earthsoup. The surface seems far away from your stricken fingers as you desperately flail them in an attempt to stay afloat.
You can feel your heart pulse sporadically in your teeth, and your spine convulses as you choke on the air that you can’t breathe. In a brief moment of clarity, you retract your arms, beginning to uproot the reeds that confine your body to the riverbed. Determination numbs the burning sensation that coruscates throughout your chest, snuffing out the white-hot sensation that begins to gnaw at your lungs. This newfound electricity swallows you whole, surging through your veins like an incinerator that’s sweltering hot and nuclear-powered. Mud billows up in waves from the floor.
You can taste the acrid tang of death as you bite down on your tongue, and you know it’s coming when your periphery turns white. An abrupt coolness rushes in, igniting a formication along your skin. In mere moments, you realize, you will float like the water reeds, nothing more than flesh and bones ready to decay in the currents. It’s unnerving to realize, it’s unnerving to even think about, and you want to push against the exhaustion that barrels onto your body; to strain for the moonlight that dims above. But your limbs grow heavy, your fingers turn bloated and blue, and your head is spinning, spinning, spinning…
A rough hand clamps down on your shoulders and you’re jerked out of the water before the darkness completely takes over your vision.
You break the surface, coughing and spluttering. Your chest heaves violently, sucking in desperate lungfuls of air that you had previously been so cruelly deprived of. The disturbed water sloshes around as you’re pulled onto the surface of a raft, and you collapse to your knees. Spindly fingers anchor themselves against the dried bamboo stakes, unable to let go until you’re steady once again. Your breath releases in sharp heaves, but it’s there, and that’s all that matters.
When the chill finally seeps into your skin, you see everything in pieces: the shadow of a silhouette in the fading moonlight, dark eyes fraught with concern, and frantic hands thrusting a sheet around your trembling body. Panting hard, you find a certain sense of relief when you cut your eyes to the person who stands by your shivering form. The landscape is blurry before you, and a restless energy hums beneath your skin.
“Are you alright?” the man asks you.
You don’t answer him at first. Instead, you swivel your head around as you take in your surroundings. You’re encircled by calm waters, serene despite their previous menace. Ripples lull the boat, and you follow their path to a shore that doesn’t lie too far from where you are now. You can barely make out the bamboo stalks that extend towards the night sky, framed by the gray cliffs that confine the surrounding land within an alcove of shadows.
“Where are we?” you ask him.
“This is Bishui River.”
The name rings with an unknown sense of familiarity, and you repeat it under your breath.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” the man crouches down beside you, “but, what happened to you?”
You wish you could answer him, and when you look down, you notice your hands are shaking. From the frustration of being unable to recall anything or your apparent weakness, you don’t know. It’s like there’s a roadblock in your mind, a screen that reaches from ground to sky that disconnects you from the world around you. Faint sounds plug your ears, memories float across your eyes, and you’re unaware of what you have forgotten. Your past is something hidden, but in this moment you cannot fathom what it might be.
“I don’t know,” you whisper. You ball your hands into fists, knuckles blanching and fingernails digging deep into your palms as you turn to glower at the waters below. A sharp pain lances through your skin, but you don’t release them. All you can do is tell him your name.
“I see,” he hums, and you look towards him, whose cloak reveals a subtle beard of black hair and callous hands - working hands. There are wicker baskets that lie adjacent to his feet, filled with scavenged fish and herbs, carrots and sunsettias. “I stopped using my real name a long time ago. You can just call me Jiangxue.”
Your eyes narrow, but you don’t lose focus. Your nature is to piece this puzzle together: a fisherman out in the dead of night, an unknown land that is strangely familiar, and you, a person composed of seafoam who was pulled to the surface with nothing but a name. You admit that that’s what bewilders you most, but you suck in a breath and push the thought away.
“There’s a village near here. I can take you there if you’d like,” Jiangxue speaks when your silence persists. His eyes glance towards your figure before quickly looking away. A cough catches somewhere between his lungs and his throat. “It consists of amiable folk. You should be able to persuade them into getting you some clothing.”
You look down at his words, and your throat drops to your stomach when you find your bare skin on display. A hypodermic heat rushes to your face, and you wrap the thin sheet tighter around your naked body.
“I … uh … sorry,” you manage to sputter out, bowing your chin down to your chest as if the simple action alone could erase all traces of embarrassment. “I hadn’t realized.”
“It’s no matter,” he affirms, paddling towards the land.
It begins to rain once the raft reaches the shore, and an argentine fluorescence seeps from the sky. The drops plummet from the sky, rapid and ruthless. As you step onto the bank, you find that the mossy ground is damp and sodden, a deep green pigmentation that indicates the fallen rain as a usual occurrence. Jagged stones press uncomfortably into your heels, and you can feel the way the air stills around you.
You don’t understand why these plains seem so disorienting, why the soft susurration of the leaves feel so heavy in your ears. This stupor comes alongside that previous sense of familiarity - an ambient nostalgia for a native land that you yearn to experience once again. There’s an entwining reassurance, distant childhood memories, and the comforts of home. Perhaps one day you will find out why.
When you see the man step off of his raft in an attempt to follow you, you stop him with the shake of your head.
“I’m fine from here on out,” you say before you can even make sense of the words. “I know my way there.”
Skeptical of your proclamation, he raises an eyebrow.
“Dawn will be here soon, you should return to fishing before the world wakes up.”
“You misunderstand,” he says, walking towards you nonetheless. “I do not fish for a living. Neither the process nor the result means much of anything to me.”
“Oh,” you frown. “Is it just a way to pass time, then?”
“Precisely that.” And then he smiles, reaching out his hand and placing it on yours. When he retracts, you find a sunsettia placed into the cocoon of your palm, accompanied by a glowing ornament composed of Varunada Lazurite. There’s a delicate swirl–like design imprinted in the middle of the gem, and your breath catches in your throat when you realize what it is: a Hydro Vision. It must have resurfaced alongside you.
You wish to thank him, but you can not find the voice to do so.
“Safe travels,” Jiangxue says. He turns away, only walking a few steps before he pauses entirely. He opens his mouth, and a look crosses his face then as if he doesn’t know what to say.
“Yes?” you ask of him. “What is it?”
He still doesn’t speak, and you watch as he unclips the cloak from around his waist, slipping it off his arms and rolling it within itself. He hands you the bundle of cloth.
“O-Oh,” you stutter, waving your hands in front of you. “I couldn’t possibly. You have given me far too much.”
“You are cold,” is all he says. “Take it.”
“Really, I don’t-”
“I implore you. Please take it.”
There’s something in his voice then, a plea that is all too unfitting for the composed man before you. Unable to fight against his wishes, you timidly reach forward and remove the article from his grasp.
“There should be no monsters to block your path,” Jiangxue says. “He has made sure of it.”
There is nothing to stop the bewilderment that illustrates your face.
“He?” you question, but the fisherman’s back is turned to you. Befuddled, you do not say anything more, and the quietude encroaches in.
Somewhere in the near distance, a bird squalls — the only sound to penetrate the silence. Jiangxue moves back onto his raft, situating a paddle between the calloused texture of his hands. You don’t wait to watch him leave, instead bowing your head in a display of gratitude before pivoting on your heel and weaving through the clotted bamboo.
When you are certain that you are adequately hidden, the soaked-through sheet that had previously found home on your shoulders falls to the floor. You cinch the cloak that Jiangxue gifted you around your body, and the linen cocoons your body heat comfortably. Pocketing your Vision and the sunsettia, you pluck the sheet from off the ground, and begin to walk forward once more.
It’s not a long trek, that much you can recall, but when you reach the edge of the village, you find that the world has flung itself over and a new sun breaks the horizon. It’s a nectarine-sweet sky, mingling above the mountain that cradles the abundant crop lands within its embrace. You cross the bridge over the terraced fields of crops and wildflowers, inching closer to the livening village. It remains peaceful and quiet all the same, even as its occupants begin to stir.
This isn’t a place that receives many guests, that much you can affirm, despite the boundless beauty the land withholds. The rising sun embraces your skin, silky and warm, and even the rough texture of the stairs beneath your feet seems to hold a fount of comfort within themselves. You can hear the hummingbirds philandering with the flowers, their birdsong coming in lulls and bursts. The aromatic hints of Jueyun Chili and Violetgrass invade upon the atmosphere, inspiring a warmth to pool within your stomach.
It’s when you near the top of the stone path that you can make sense of a hunched figure beneath the strung lanterns, still lit despite the day’s arrival. She paces from side to side, graceful in her steps regardless of the aged lines that sculpt her face, on display due to her gray hair tucked in a low bun. As if sensing your presence, she stops, the green of her dress swiveling with her movements as she pivots on her heel to face you.
“My dear,” she calls, as if she has known you all this time. “Welcome to Qingce Village. Why don’t you take a walk with me?”
The elderly lady nods her head towards the courtyard, and there you can see a conglomeration of buildings that frame the square, constructed of wood and bamboo stalks. Fruit stands are tucked into corners, and a little ways down, a water mill sits adjacent to a bridge, converging with the path that leads further up the mountain. From nearby, the sound of a waterfall marginally emerges above the noises of early morning, and a rush of wistfulness overwhelms your entire being.
“Have you been aware that I would come?” you ask as you step beside her. She leads you towards the bridge.
A small smile sets apart her lips. “You must know we have quite the accumulation of spies here.”
A look of confoundment overtakes your features, and before you can request her to explain any further, a muffled chorus of giggles is heard from behind you. When you turn around, three pairs of eyes stare curiously at your form, and petite hands latch onto the edges of the cart that the children hide behind.
“I was not aware that I’d been under surveillance.”
“Outsiders are rather rare here,” the elderly woman muses, turning her head to where you gaze. “Of course, they still have a lot to learn.”
A sense of amusement flutters within your chest.
“Might I inquire as to why you have come?” she asks you.
The question momentarily startles you, although you reason that it is not unexpected. Attempting to grasp at your thoughts, you press your teeth down onto your lip, and all answers that are brought to mind prove insufficient to her question.
She must notice your inner turmoil, because she provides a reassuring expression before speaking: “It is fine if you do not wish to indulge me. We all have things we wish to keep to ourselves.”
“It’s not that. It’s just … how do I put this?” you reply, taking a grounding breath before voicing further. “There are many memories before this morning that have escaped me, including the answer to your inquiry. Although, I do suppose I hoped that I might be able to acquire some assistance here.”
She seems to contemplate your words, and stops walking just before your feet make contact with the bridge. A middle-aged woman appears in your periphery then, raising her hand in greeting to the lady beside you, the other arm slung over a wicker basket that rests on her hip. She must be preparing for a day's worth of field work, you presume.
“I see. Let us go somewhere more private. We will converse there,” she says. “And perhaps we might find you some more suitable clothes.”
She leads you to a building that rests on a wedge below the peak of the mountain. It’s certainly the largest structure of the village, composed of wooden posts and joists to encircle the open space. A shallow pond borders the front entrance, lotus heads and lily pads peaking above its glassy surface. The inside is completely exposed to the external environment, and from here, you can make out the entirety of the village. Nonetheless, being under a roof grants you a gratifying sense of privacy.
With a fragile hand on the small of your back, the lady leads you to a painted screen wall that rests off–center of the building, framed by wooden beams. It’s a picture of the mountain, you promptly recognize, with streaks of orange and blue that appear to glow in the morning light. She gently encourages you behind it, and you don’t realize that there is a set of garments in her other hand before she’s pushing them into your own.
“There is no one around to see,” she says, as if sensing your hesitation, and leaves you to your own.
Once the woman rounds the corner, you make haste in removing the cloak, slipping on the pants that tighten at your waist. The silk laced fabric flares out to brush at your ankles, and the cerulean trimmed edges barely graze upon the ground. The main portion is a dark umber, much like the short sleeved shirt given to you, with stitched decals of ochre and blue. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to bind the fastenings down your chest.
There is no mirror nearby, but you are gently pleased by the choice in fabrics. You run your fingers over the material, feeling the ridges, the needlework, and the cotton–like texture. You know you’re in no position to experience such a luxury at the given moment, but you also have no entitlement to brush off such a thing. Your body hums with gratitude, and you step out from behind the wall.
The elderly lady seems to be equally as pleased, as she sends you a tight–lipped smile. From where her hands are clasped behind your back, she motions towards the chairs that circle the center of the building, fringing on the carmine painted engraving of a flower–like design. You take a seat.
“Might I ask your name?” You are the first to speak.
“You may call me Granny Ruoxin,” she muses. “I do apologize if it isn’t too lively around here, but life is pleasant here, and I hope you find a sense of enjoyment within the village.”
You learn forward, eager. “You mean it? I can stay?”
She nods, and it’s like the Universe has bursted into light. “There is plenty of room. You may stay until you are certain of where your journey will take you.”
A glint from the sun sparks your gaze, and you watch as Granny Ruoxin moves to sit beside you. Her movements are leisurely, hands crossed–hatched with scars reaching down to clasp yours in her own, and you dare to wonder of all the ways in which your life is about to unfold.
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hello! i hope you enjoyed this. it’s my first time posting something genshin related on tumblr, so feedback is greatly appreciated. <3
additionally, i am considering making a tag list for this story, so if you are interested please message me!!
also! you can read it here on a03!
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archonoftears · 3 years
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info: modern au! reader receives a package that helps her tease her boyfriend while he’s at work. 
warnings: 18+ smut, slight breeding kink (mentioned), lingerie, phone sex (kinda), pretty vanilla, no penetration, just description, a tiny bit of dom/sub (implied through dialogue)
word count: 1,626
authors note: umm head empty, thoughts only filled with laying in zhonglis bed and teasing him over the phone. i really can’t remove myself from modern au! with ceo daddy zhong. so here we are again. not gonna lie though, i found myself looking at dragon dildos yesterday and now i just wanna write dragon zhongli and sacrificial maiden. so maybe after i finish with the first chapter of my other fic i’ll get right on that. 
ps no beta, i just kinda got this out and edited it once. so sorry if any mistakes or issues.
please thirst with me if you want to!!
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Glancing around your dining room table you felt defeated by the amount of packages staring back at you. You were surprised by the latest delivery of clothing you had received for PR from a few high end designers. You knew you shouldn't have been shocked, dating a CEO of a multi million dollar cooperation came with many perks. Yet you never imagined anything like this. Knowing the mess would only stay on the table if you didn’t start tackling it. You began opening up a few packages, finding bags and shoes. Even the latest spring wear from the major brand ‘Liyue Qixing’ sat in a box for you. Before setting your eyes on a more intricate looking box. Opening it to discover some of the most beautiful lingerie you had seen in a long time. Looking at the brand name ‘Scent of Spring’. You didn’t recognize it, but you were quite enamored with the pieces inside.
Forgoing opening any more packages you quickly gathered the items in the box and wandered off to the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend. Selecting a ivory and gold silk longline balconette bra, with matching thong, and harness. The gold tulle flowers that patterned the silk and lace were soft and delicate under your fingers. You couldn’t go a second longer without wearing the beautiful set. Quickly stripping off the clothes you were wearing and slipping on the lingerie. Loving the feel of the soft lace and silk against your skin. Staring at yourself in the mirror. 
‘This lingerie had to be designed by some deity who knew Zhongli’s taste.’ You thought to yourself as you admired the way the balconette bra exposed half of your breast and how the thong straps cut into the flesh of your hip in a sexy way, giving your body a more defined silhouette.
A light bulb went off in your head, walking over to grab your phone and opening the camera app, returning back to the mirror. Posing yourself quite provocative as you snapped several photos, dropping to your knees and taking a few more photos, before flipping through them. A coy smile playing on your lips as you went to call Zhongli.
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Zhongli was startled by the sound of his phone ringing on his desk, glancing down to see your contact photo, a smile immediately forming on his face, he swiped to answer.
“Hello (name), is everything alright my dear?” Zhongli greeted as he turned from the documents in front of him and leaned back in his chair. You seldom ever called him when you knew he was going to be in the office all day, preferring to email him if you needed anything so he assumed this must have been important.
“Everything is fine, just calling to see what you were up to.” You greeted over the phone. Zhongli let out a small sigh, relieved that nothing was wrong.
“I’m just preparing for a meeting with Fatui Industries in a little bit.” Zhongli started, glancing at the clock to check the time. “What are you doing today my dear.” He asked, knowing you didn’t have much on your schedule today.
“Well I was going through some packages I received, you know the PR kind. It was mostly clothes from some nice designers.” You hummed, he could hear you twirling your hair in your fingers as you spoke.
“Oh really? Hopefully they sent things that are your style.” 
“That’s why I was calling actually. There was this one package, the clothes are really nice. But I think they’re more to your taste, and I wanted to get your opinion on them.” You confessed. 
“Of course, I can do that when I get home for you if you would like.” Zhongli replied, glancing at the clock noting that he had about 27 minutes until his meeting. “I should be done with work after I meet with Signora and Childe.”
“I’m actually sending you a couple photos right now, please check your email and tell me what you think.” He couldn’t put his finger on it, but you seemed awfully excited about all of this but he complied with your request.
“Of course, one moment.” Opening his email, quickly finding the one from you at the top and opening it, his eyes widening in realization as he enlarged one of several photos in the email. His voice catching in his throat as he examined it.
“Are the clothes to your liking, sir.” You cooed from the other end of the phone, knowing very well they were in fact to his liking. 
“Ms. (Name)..” Zhongli growled quietly.
“Yes sir?” You asked innocently, Zhongli aware of the game you were playing, but nevertheless here he was clicking on the next photo, feeling his pants grow tighter as he continued to view the photos. The one of you on your knees sending more blood rushing to his already aching erection.
“Are you being a good girl right now?” 
“I’m always a good girl Sir.”
“Are you? You don’t look to be acting like a good girl in these photos.”
“Then should I send you some more photos so you make sure I’m being good?” He could feel himself getting riled up just by the implications of what was being said.
“Well… I’ve already sent them so hopefully you don’t mind.”
Not needing to be told twice Zhongli refreshed his email inbox to find a new message. Opening it to discover new attachments. Slowly he clicked the first picture. Finding you not in front of the mirror in the bedroom anymore, but now on the black sateen sheets of the bed the two of you shared. Angling the camera in a way to show how you would look if he had you pinned down. You looked ravishing, from the way you let your cleavage spill out exposing your nipples, to the way you spread your legs. 
The next photo your hand was on one of your breast cupping and pinching the nipple. The next photo was taken lower, your hand was now in your panties clearly teasing yourself. And the final attachment was a video, it was no more than 15 seconds, but in those 15 seconds you show yourself pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, before dragging your fingers out of yourself and licking the wet slick off your digits. Zhongli was taking deep breaths as he watched. His eyes following your every movement.
“Sir…” You moaned, lust lacing every syllable. “Do you think I look like a good girl in those photos?”
Zhongli couldn’t say anything for a moment. Letting the video replay itself over and over, his eyes finding new things to focus on each time it replayed. From the way your plump lips wrapped around your fingers or the way you quivered when you plunged your two digits into yourself. He just wanted to see you do more.
“When did being a good girl equate to acting like quite the little slut? Surely I’ve taught you better than that.” Zhongli replied firmly, as he adjusted the way he was sitting to accommodate his throbbing cock.
“This is what you’ve taught me…” the breathiness of your voice letting him know you were in fact still touching yourself as you replied.
“I don’t recall teaching you to send provocative photos to me while I’m at work.” He glanced at the clock again, 16 minutes until the meeting. Fuck. 
“Did they make you hard?” You asked suddenly.
He was not a liar, so he wouldn’t lie to you. “Yes they did…” 
“Did they make you want to come home and stuff your big. thick. cock inside of me.” The punctionaction of your words were breaking him down.
“Yes they did…”
“Master are you going to come home so I can show you how much of a good girl I am, when I’m milking your cock.”
“My Lily… I-” Zhongli wasn’t used to you being this forward with him.
“I need you to come home and fuck me now. Because if you don’t pump me full of your cum I might go crazy.” You whined your voice working wonders on his resolve. “Please… Please come home and breed me sir.”
One final weak glance at his clock showed he had 9 minutes before they would arrive.
You moaned again calling his name out through the phone, the thread holding his composure together snapping.
“You’re not allowed to cum until I get home do you understand.” Zhongli growled into the phone, quickly on his feet, grabbing his bag and making his way to the door of his office. “Do you understand?”
“Yes sir..!” You exclaimed.
“I hope you understand you won’t be walking for the next few days my Little Lily.” He warned before leaving the safety of his private office.
“Yes yes! Hurry please.” 
“I am.” Quickly saying goodbye and hanging the phone up  with you, while walking towards two approaching figures. 
“Mr. Zhongli goo-” Signora began, reaching her hand out to greet him, but he didn’t meet it.
“My apologies, there seems to be an emergency at home, can you meet with my assistant to reschedule.” Zhongli haphazardly explained. “Again my deepest apologies.” He finished, turning on his heel and b lining it to the exit. Letting the receptionist know that he was leaving and scrambling for the parking garage.
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“What do you think his emergency was?” Signora stood bewildered where Zhongli had left her and Childe.
“Do you think everything is alright?
Childe seemed to be having the best laugh of his life as his colleague pondered the obvious.
“Trust me everything’s fine.” Childe said in between laughs. “We should probably reschedule for Monday, he’ll probably need the whole weekend off.”
“This is why I hate partnering with you, you’re too vague sometimes.”
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jilytoberfest · 2 years
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Author - @clare-with-no-i
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Thank you so much for taking the time to do this, Clare! You can find her on ao3!
1. What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
I’d say that writing out the endings/later chapters before the earlier ones of my multi-chapters, probably. Except for New Age Romancing, I have the endings and a bit of the last few chapters written for my WIPs. I also have a 24-page document that is just pieces of future Bond and Free chapters that, if it were to somehow ever ~leak to the public~ (she says, thinking she’s a celebrity) would ruin SO many important moments for the characters and the plot LOL.
2. What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your stories?
I think learning that I have really concrete ideas about how my characters act was really surprising to me - it was also the part I was the most scared about when endeavoring to write a canon fic. I worried a lot that my James would be flimsy or that my Lily would have inconsistencies in her outlook, but the more I thought about it and the more I put down on paper, the more solidified their personalities became. I think that’s partially because I spent so much time writing one-shots before ever doing a longform story; I was able to flesh out different parts of the characters in different settings, and really focus on pieces of their personality almost one-by-one. I think it really helped me grow as a writer, because when I finally put (figurative) pen down to paper for Bond and Free, I knew how I wanted these characters to come across, and I felt extremely acquainted with them.
3. Do you have any suggestions to help others become a better writer? If so, what are they?
I think my main one--which has been pretty consistent since I started writing--is to read a lot. I felt really insecure about my fics when I started, because I would look at all of this wall-of-text I had laid out and compare it to, for example, The Life and Times, which 1) is a masterpiece that I should not have been comparing myself to and 2) is really centered around quick, snappy dialogue and not a crazy amount of description. Then I spent a good amount of time reading and trying to understand how different books worked in their descriptions: are there big blocks of text? Do actions happen in between dialogue? That kind of thing. There has been nothing so helpful for me to figure out my own style as reading, reading, reading.
Otherwise, I’d say: just put something down on paper. Speak aloud to yourself and write down what you say as dialogue. Try to imagine how an emotion feels (grief, joy, love, etc) and really focus on how it sits in your body: where do you feel it? What does it feel like? And put that down in whatever words you can muster! It is ALL about practice. My early stories look nothing like my current WIPs - and that’s ok! It’s all about growth!
4. What do you think makes a good story?
I think being invested in the characters is the main thing for me. Without it, you have no desire to watch them grow, or to even tag along for their journeys. Even if they’re the antagonist, they have to be interesting at least. And especially for protagonists or romantic leads, you have to really, really want them together - or else there won’t be any payoff! And I know that we all already want Jily together, but writing fic is the best way to ask the question: why? What makes them so appealing as romantic leads?
5. What is the first book that made you cry?
Oh, man. I don’t know if I remember the first, but I do know that Deathly Hallows did, because it meant the whole series was over. I also remember crying at Esmerelda Santiago’s When I was Puerto Rican when it was assigned reading for me in eighth grade. I’m a sporadic book-crier, to be fair; I can never predict what’s going to set me off. Since then it’s been a slew of books, I’m sure.
6. Does writing energize or exhaust you?
A bit of both! When I’m inspired, it’s absolutely electrifying. I can do pretty much nothing but think about my next chance to write. Other times, when I’m stressed about a plotline or feel like I’ve put myself on a deadline, it can be really exhausting. Bond and Free is definitely a mix of both - I go through waxing and waning periods with it. But for the most part it’s exciting, because I feel so privileged to get to write my own canon for these characters, no matter how convoluted it may be.
7. Have you ever gotten reader’s block? If so, what are your tips to overcome it?
Oh, a thousand percent. With both fic and books, honestly. When I got really into writing early this year, I had a lot of trouble reading other peoples’ fics because I would just constantly compare my stuff, or I worried I was accidentally going to steal a plot point or piece of character work. With books, it’s been hard for me to really focus on reading since I got to college - but I find that rereading a favorite book is really helpful to get me back into the headspace.
In terms of fic, I always go for something short and trope-y that will make me feel whatever emotion I’m craving at the time, and move from there!
8. Do you think someone could be a writer if they don’t feel emotions strongly?
I think the fact that we all feel emotions differently is a benefit, not a detriment! It contributes to your unique narrative voice. I absolutely think you can be a writer without feeling emotions ‘strongly’ - whatever that may mean. Take me for example: I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. I’ve only been in love once, fleetingly, and it did not go well HA. But I still write a ton of established relationship fluff, and I’ve devoted a lot of my time to, essentially, writing a long love story. I can’t relate to the feeling; but I can imagine how it might feel to me.
Or, if you’re someone who really feels disconnected from the emotions you want to write, read passages from books or other fics that describe that emotion! To put it bluntly: steal! (but not, like, actual sentences. Just vibes.) Figuring out how other writers do things and emulating them is nothing to be ashamed of.
9. If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what would it be?
Maybe cool it on the em dashes and the long, run-on sentences.
Also, keep writing. Don’t disparage the process or yourself. Be kind about your writing, and for the love of god, stop comparing yourself to everyone.
10. What was your hardest scene to write?
I’m caught between a few.
Foreigner’s God is overall the most complex piece I’ve written, because it deals with so many moving parts: the modern love story, the flashback love story, the enemies-to-lovers element, the incorporation of canon, the sheer physicality of giving the main character audiovisual hallucinations triggered by touch. There were so many times when I just thought: alright, Clare, you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. Bow out now and write something less complicated. But the biggest one would have been the Halloween sequence, when they both realize everything. That was an absolute monster. It was nerve-wracking to try and write the payoff to nearly 15k of buildup.
The Great Hall sequence in Bond and Free chapter 3 was also really difficult. It was a huge undertaking for such an early chapter (fully aware of this, trust me) and I really needed to get into James’s head and try and see the world from his POV to write it in a way that felt emotionally honest for his character.
New Age Romancing never ceases to provide me with trip-ups and obstacles, but I think the entirety of chapter 5 was the most difficult. It was just…so convoluted. And it was the first time I wrote something that I knew readers wouldn’t like - plot-wise, at least - so I had an actual panic attack that night because I was worried no one would stick with the story. I was used to writing fluff pieces and one-shots where everything resolves immediately! And then all subsequent chapters have been tough because the story turned into a bit of a stressor for me in April. So it has multiple “hard scenes,” so to speak lol
11. What is your favorite childhood book?
Probably Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or The Mysterious Benedict Society. They’re both SO good.
12. How long on average does it take you to write a one shot or a chapter of a fic?
Oh, god. It really depends. I used to crank out multiple 3-5k one-shots almost daily when I first started writing, but I’ve since slowed way down. I tend to take my time a lot more with WIP chapters than I used to; so I’d say it could take anywhere from a few days to multiple weeks.
13. A fic that inspires you?
You want me to pick just one?!?! IMPOSSIBLE.
Well. I’d have to say “Bindings, Bindings” by quietlemonhush is such an inspirational fic for me. It’s an AU in which Jily (and Regulus Black) come back to life a few months after Halloween 1981. It’s Jily and Wolfstar and my god, it is just so well-written and so moving. I also adore the prose style SO much. I know people have said before that I write ‘poetically’ (and thank you to everyone who does), but that story...God. It just sings.
Also, and I think we all knew I was going to mention this, but “Come Together” by TheQuibblah. Suze is just such a technically skilled and beautiful writer. It’s one thing to have really great prose work (which she does), but it’s another entirely to understand so intrinsically the mechanics of storytelling that you build up a romance like she has for 50 chapters and still have your audience ridiculously invested. And I KNOW you’re all like “ok clare stop talking about suze you’re a broken record” but SORRY the fic is just too good
14. How do you edit your work?
By panicking, mostly
15. Where does inspiration come from?
Left, right, and center! It comes from everywhere. I get a lot of it from reading, but also just walking around and talking to people! Seeing clips on youtube or watching tv! It comes from everywhere. It bore repeating, so I said it twice.
16. Who has been helpful for you as you write for the fandom?
So many people!! SO many people. I must, of course, shout-out to Suze and Senem ( @thequibblah and @keepingupwithpotters ) because they are just…my babes. Suze and I bounce writing off of each other and it is just the biggest help and inspiration. But generally just readers and the discord! @emerqldv ‘s reviews of Bond and Free and dedication to it is just...what keeps that story going for me. @figg-anon ’s kindness is overwhelming. @sunshine-marauders ’s enthusiasm and bright energy is something I admire so much. And then I wouldn’t be nearly so involved in the fandom without @mppmaraudergirl , @maraudersftw ...the list goes on!
Any time someone comments or talks to me about writing is something that helps. I just love engaging with everyone - even if I’ve been limited in my ability to do it lately because of grad school.
17. What is your fav POV to write from?
Probably any one of my big 4: James, Lily, Sirius, Remus. But I also love Mary’s POV in Bond and Free?? God I just love them all so much for different reasons. But I think I relate the most to Lily, so I’d say her as a go-to. But this was a DIFFICULT and UNFAIR QUESTION hahahaha
18. What is a fic you would love to write but are worried you won’t be able to accomplish it/nervous it wouldn’t work out?
Hm. I’d say I just really want to make sure I finish Bond and Free and my other WIPs, but I don’t have anything on the table right now that I don’t think I could accomplish.
19. Do you ever self insert in fics?
HA! So, I don’t think anyone would be shocked to hear that Magdalena and Evangeline Abbott from Bond and Free started off that way, because my sister and I thought it would be fun to play around with the ever-elusive mythos that surrounds twins in the HP universe, but the more I got into their characters and wanted to engage them with the plot of the story, the less appealing it was as to project myself and my sister onto them. They’re their own people now, with their own craziness and flaws and attributes, and I love them dearly. My disaster twins <3
20. What is the story you are proudest of?
Probably either Bond and Free or foreigner’s god. BaF is a massive undertaking and I know it will take me a while to get through, but I’m so committed to fleshing out the canon in a way that feels authentic to me. And foreigner’s god made a bunch of people cry, which I weirdly wasn’t expecting? So that was an accomplishment, I suppose. LOL.
21. Do you prefer writing canon jily or muggle au?
I don’t really have a preference! When I first started, it was all canon, all the time - because that’s what I had been so sorely missing when I read HP again. But now it’s a hodge-podge of both! I think canon still has a special place in my heart, because I just really wish that we all got more time with these characters, but I do love a good AU because then I can see them live happily ever after and not, like...die.
Thank you so much for these questions!
Thank you for doing this!
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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years
Text
Tropetember Day 12 - Getting together / Love confession / First kiss / Break-up/Make-up / Fix-it
Limp away with me
Pairing: Armitage Hux x GN!Reader
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: Teen and up
TW: Injuries, implications of rough childhood
AN: Day 12 of @tropetember. So, this is quite rough and holds a lot of potential for fleshing out into a proper story, whether that's just a longer one or a multi-chapter. Is that something anyone would be interested in? Fix-it fic cos they did General Hugs dirty
Allegiant General Pryde has shot General Hux. Lucky you're the Surgeon General really.
Find this story on Ao3 here.
Word Count: 1.6k
“Allegiant General Pryde just shot General Hux.”
Your breath catches and you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes. Next moment, you’ve grabbed your bag and are focused back on task.
“Collect the body,” you direct them, “and bring it to the medbay autopsy lab. Carefully.”
You and Armitage had prepared for this eventuality. One of the advantages of having a partner in the medical core was that the chances of surviving treason were much higher.
Whilst neither of you had entered First Order service willingly (no matter what Hux said, you had both been forced into it), Armitage had quickly excelled and embraced his duties in an effort to outshine his father. To try and prove himself as worthy. You, on the other hand, had enacted the only act of rebellion against your family that you would be able to survive. You had chosen to enrol in the medical core rather than aiming for command. If you had to be a part of this monstrous cause, you would try to save as many as you could.
You’d worked your way quickly up to the rank of Surgeon General and had been stationed on the Supremacy for a number of years. Thankfully, you’d survived the reign of Snoke and, so far, had survived Ren’s reign of terror. It had been a blessing that Hux had been reassigned to the vessel from the Finaliser. You enjoyed each other’s company and it was helpful to be able to train on your self-defence with someone who wasn’t trying to beat the stuffing out of you to make a point. He was a good outlet for a lot of energy in other ways too.
You glance up from checking you have all your equipment when you realise the orderlies haven’t moved. You turn your most piercing stare on them.
“Did I stutter?”
They look at each other until one of them pulls up their big boy panties and says “he was shot for being a spy.”
You laugh. Mostly at the fact that one looks like he wants to cry and the other like he’s about to collapse. They don’t need to know that though.
“Yes, by Allegient General Pryde who is well known for being a thorough and competent leader. Oh wait. No, he’s not. He’s had a grudge against Hux since he reappeared from whatever hell hole he had been hiding in. I said go fetch me the body! Now!”
They scarper out and you take another deep breath to centre yourself before busying yourself again with grabbing supplies and the emergency make-a-break-for-it kit you stored in your office. You then straighten your uniform, brace yourself and head out into the chaos of the medical bay.
---------------
Armitage is deathly pale when he finally is brought down to you but you swiftly move into action, infusing blood and bacta and checking the depth of the wound. You’d both known that, were he to be discovered, the weapon he was likely to be shot with would pierce the thin body armour he wore beneath his uniform. Unfortunately, it was the maximum thickness he could get away with before it became noticeable but you had both agreed that some bleeding would sell the ruse. You just didn’t like it.
Checking out the wound, you sigh out a quick breath of relief when you realise it is not too deep and hasn’t damaged any of the major blood vessels or organs. Though gruesome to witness, it was mostly superficial.
You lose yourself in your efforts, remaining undisturbed in the autopsy room, until you’re happy that he’s stable for travel. It’s at that point that you revive him, despite the fact he’s going to be in a world of pain.
He slowly blinks into reality with a scowl and a hiss of pain. You try to soothe him as best you can but there isn’t much you can do right now. You need him mobile to get to the shuttle and someone would notice you carrying him.
Gently running your hand through his hair you tell him “come on sweetheart. I know it hurts but we’ve got to move.”
Despite the pain, he seems alert and nods, letting out a grunt of agreement as he allows you to help him sit up and then stand. You gather the spare stormtrooper armour you’d pilfered a few months ago and quickly get him dressed up in it before leading the way swiftly to the small landing bay where Armitage’s private shuttle was stored.
You whisper a thanks to whatever Gods there are that the chaos on board the vessel means that there is noone around and you manage to get the pair of you on board with little drama. In fact, the whole escape into hyperspace is amazingly smooth and once you’re away with your course set, you sag a little in relief.
Or at least, you do until you see Armitage’s slumped frame and quickly grab him and get him moved to the small bedroom to continue his care and knock him back out while he heals.
You’re just about to inject the sedative when he grabs your hand, making you look at him.
“You know you are my world, don’t you?” he asks quietly.
You smile softly and lean forward to press a gentle kiss on his lips. You smile again as you feel him smile against you.
“I do, I wouldn’t have committed treason for anything less.”
He rolls his eyes before pressing another gentle peck to your lips and releasing you to get back your work. You take the opportunity to knock him out for now. It’s how he’ll be most comfortable.
And if you’re grinning so hard your face hurts, noone in deep space can see it. They can’t see you internally debating whether it’s ethical to dope someone up to get soppy confessions from them in the future either.
---------
It wasn’t often that General Dameron of the Resistance found himself in the Outer Rim.
Even 3 years after the end of the war, he was still mostly stuck to the core planets and mid-rim in efforts to support the Senate and help guard the peace which had settled upon the galaxy.
He’d been on a training mission with a few new recruits for Green Squadron when they’d been ambushed and they’d all received some pretty injuries despite eventually winning the battle. Injuries that required attention sooner than they would be able to if they headed back to base.
After a quick argument with Finn via the comms, the squad set course for a local med facility that was gaining a reputation for it’s high quality care.
Poe made sure all his squad were checked out before himself and he was happy that they were all being looked after so well. It was strange. The lead Doctor seemed familiar.
It wasn’t until you met his eyes that he realised.
You calmly continued his consultation, gently palpitating the wounds and collecting dressings, something you appeared to be doing more quickly than he was able to collect his thoughts.
“You!”
You snort. You can’t help it.
“Yes, me General Dameron.” You gently dab some bacta on some of the smaller cuts. “Did that break heal up correctly?”
He nods a bit dumbly. You’d been responsible for his care after Ren and a couple of the Stormtroopers had tortured him. You’d been a welcome relief, if he were honest. In fact, apart from the fact you’d worked for the First Order, he wasn’t aware of any accusations against you.
“I’m glad.” You finish wrapping his wrist and nod. “All done. Your pilots should be ready to go in around 2hrs, just to allow any drowsiness to wear off. I have some spare rooms if you need to stay on planet tonight?”
He thanks you profusely but explains that they are expected back tonight as you head back into the main waiting area. You shake his hand before leaving him and approaching a tall red-head across the room who instantly wraps his arm around your waist and drops a quick kiss on your head. You whisper to him for a few seconds and blue-green eyes suddenly lock with Poe’s before his face breaks out in a smile.
“General Dameron” Armitage says, approaching slowly and holding out a hand to a shell-shocked looking Dameron. “I’m glad you won. You and your squadrons are welcome to drop in here for treatment if you ever require it and are close by. Free of charge”
Poe, for his part, has a LOT of thoughts at this moment. Part of him wants to jump up and arrest him immediately whilst another screams that he was a spy and was seriously harmed because of it. It’s neither of these things that eventually seals his reaction though. It’s the loving glance Armitage throws your way as you offer them both coffee, the expression rendering him almost unrecognisable when juxtaposed against the version he used to know.
“Thank you.” He finally chokes out. “I’m assuming you’re not known by your old names?” Given the whole living in peace and not being turned into the authorities and all that?”
Hux just laughs.
“You would be correct. We’re both going by Y/N’s mother’s maiden name.”
“Oh?”
“Yes” Armitage says, looking far too amused. “We’re Armitage and Y/N Organa.”
Poe’s jaw drops to the flood. How on EARTH was he going to explain any of this?
Turns out, after it became the top recommended med centre by all members of the Resistance, he didn’t have to. He just had to keep pretending he didn’t know Hux had survived and not let Finn anywhere near. Poe was good at keeping his mouth shut.
Strange galaxy you live in really. And you couldn’t be happier
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elysiadjarin · 3 years
Text
Sword and Shield 7
Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on
Part 6: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/655814128564355072/sword-and-shield-6
Warnings: not really much, some mentions of fights etc.
Notes: Well, after this chapter y’all... I think. You know. Where this about to go...
7: Tumbling
Tipoca greeted you the way it always did: a bustle of commotion as soon as you stepped foot off of the ship. You’d dressed in the standard gear that the Kaminoans had given you: a modified pair of blacks that essentially fit you like a jumpsuit.
Following Hunter, you and the rest of the team let him lead the way down the halls. Clones moved through the hallways as well, some of them giving you looks but the majority just ignoring you. By the time Hunter had opened the door to the Bad Batch’s usual barracks, you’d begun to brace yourself for the usual checkups and procedures you knew would follow.
“Hey Shiv, looks like they’ve moved your stuff in already,” Wrecker said, bounding into the room and over to his bunk.
You went over to the singular trunk that had been set in the middle of the floor, labeled with your designation number Unit 526934. Opening the trunk, you found your extra few changes of clothes and the random odds and ends that you’d left behind. Most of your favored possessions you’d either left with the 501st or taken with you onto the ship already, so the little you’d left in your quarters on Tipoca held little to no value.
Digging through the trunk, you grabbed the one item you’d hoped they hadn’t forgot, relieved it was still there. You let out a breath as you closed the trunk and turned to the table. Turning over the small holoprojector, you placed it down on the table and flicked it on, watching the images flicker into view. You smiled as you flipped through the couple of pictures of you with the 501st when you’d first been taken to Tipoca.
Pictures of you, soaking wet from the rain, laughing with the 501st. Fives, splashing you as Kix chased after you both with a towel. Your smile faded a little as you came across a picture of Echo, his grinning face fixed on you and Fives as he watched you both slip on puddles and slick durasteel.
Flicking it off, you stuck it into your bag and looked around. Apparently you were required to stay with the Bad Batch now, not that you’d protest.
“Uh, Shiv— looks like they didn’t bother to put another bunk in here.” Hunter turned to you.
You shrugged. “That’s okay. I can go on the floor or something.”
“You could share with me.” Tech adjusted his goggles. “Mine can extend a little further.”
You turned to glance at his bunk. “Oh... are you sure?”
“Awww, no fair Tech! I wanna sleep with Shiv!” Wrecker leaped up from his bunk, promptly cracking his skull against the top of it and letting out a yelp.
You could have sworn your entire face flushed at the double entendre of the words, but you tried to swallow and push it away. “Um- if you’re alright with it....”
Tech’s face looked a little colored. “If you want.”
You gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Tech. You sure I won’t make you uncomfortable? I tend to gravitate toward heat... I’ve been told I’m a little cold-blooded.”
He opened his mouth to reply when Crosshair snorted. “Really Shiv, do you think any of us would complain about that?” he asked, sending you a dark smirk from the other side of the room.
You swallowed thickly as Wrecker laughed and Tech sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Hunter chuckled.
“Well, it’s not as if you haven’t all fondled me already,” you said smartly, turning on your heel to go back to your trunk.
A dead silence filled the room for a moment as you bent over the trunk and started rummaging again, trying to search for the pair of night clothes you’d left behind last time. They’d been comfortable, and you didn’t want to give them up.
Then Wrecker burst into hearty laughter again. He walked up to you, grabbing you and hoisting you up as you squeaked a startled protest. “That’s the way, Shiv! Give it to him!” He swung you around as you squealed, grabbing onto his shoulders.
“Wrecker— Maker, wait—“ you tried to say through laughs, the world spinning.
He playfully tossed you down onto his own bunk as you shrieked, hair falling into your face. Grinning, he bent over you and handed you something.
“I want you to meet Lula,” he presented with a flourish. “Made ‘er myself!”
You brushed hair out of your eyes and took the little stuffed bunny, smiling at the stitched-on smile. Leaning forward, you had to bury your face into the plush tummy and breathe in Wrecker’s unmistakable scent. It smelled like the sizzle after a rain of blaster fire, the plume of smoke from an explosion barely wafting through the air, all underscored by a hint of sweat and a warm, thick scent that you just knew was wholly him.
“Lula is really warm, and soft,” you said softly, fingers squeezing the arms as you smiled up at Wrecker.
He hovered over you, face lighting up as you approved. “You like it? It’s coming apart a little, though. I gotta get ‘er fixed.”
You looked back down at it curiously, then turned it over. A seam had started to unravel at the back. “Oh— I can fix that, if you have the materials,” you offered, tugging carefully at the thread to see how loose it had gotten. Frowning, you tied a knot in the thread to keep it from further unraveling.
“You can?” Wrecker leaped up, managing to avoid hitting his head that time, and went to go rummage in all the miscellaneous parts.
“Here, Wrecker,” Hunter said, tossing him something from the other side of the room.
Wrecker caught it, squinting down at it. “Oh goody, it’s the thread.” Then he resumed looking for what you hoped would be a needle.
“Do you need anything, Shiv?” Hunter asked, turning to you briefly from his bunk.
You shook your head, scooting to the edge of Wrecker’s bunk and carefully holding Lula. “No, thank you. My trunk is here, and I guess I’m sharing with Tech, so... I should be good. Besides,” you sighed, rolling your eyes, “the Kaminoans will give me whatever they see fit anyway.”
“Oh, right.” Hunter walked over to you, handing you a datapad. “You’re being called into the medbay at 1800 Standard. I assume for a checkup.”
You glanced at it, then nodded and scrunched your nose. “Yeah, it’s going to be a long one,” you sighed, shoulders slumping. “Especially since that stupid stunt I pulled on that first mission.” You absently reached up and rubbed your arm, feeling the phantom pain of melting flesh tearing away.
Hunter glanced at your arm with a frown. “I thought it healed?”
“It did,” you said, “but now they’re going to poke and prod at it for a while to figure out the cellular regeneration most likely. Plus, they never have figured out why bacta patches tend to do more harm than good on me.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.” He walked back to his bunk just as Wrecker returned triumphantly.
“Found ‘em, Shiv!” He presented them, sitting back down next to you.
You set Lula down in your lap in order to take the materials, threading the needle with the thick, dark thread. Trying the knot, you turned Lula to the nearest light source and carefully inserted the needle.
“How’d you learn to sew, Shiv?” Wrecker asked, watching you start to mend the split seam.
You tucked in a bit of the stuffing. “Slave days.” You shrugged slightly, focused on getting the seam pushed together properly so it wouldn’t unravel as easily. “Gotta sit still and look like a useful and pretty ornament, y’know. Whims of the rich and whatever.”
“I still don’t understand,” Hunter spoke up, a growl in his voice. “Why would a Separatist choose to make you an ornamental slave instead of a weapon partner?”
You took a moment to tie the knots and snap the thread, then started re-threading the needle to do another tight layer. You finally answered with a sigh. “Bragging rights. Besides, I wasn’t a person to them. I was just a biological weapon, nothing more. What’s the point in treating me like an independent being? It’s one of the biggest reasons I found family in the Clones.”
The thoughtful silence told you that your point had hit home, and you started the second layer carefully. “I’m going to do another layer just so that it won’t tear as easily next time, Wrecker,” you explained, watching the needle push through the fabric and the stitches crisscross over each other.
“Oh, yeah! Thanks, Shiv.” Wrecker nodded, still apparently finding the process interesting.
You hummed, double-knotting the last stitch and snapping the thread again. Turning, you handed him the newly-mended Lula.
He cheered, taking her back excitedly and beginning to babble about it.
You had to watch him with a smile even as you pushed the needle through the spool of thread. Wrecker’s innocent joy in the simple things had always drawn you, the way he let himself be unapologetically enthusiastic about what he cared about. You had to fondly smile as you watched him toss Lula about and razz Crosshair.
Standing after a moment, you went and put the needle and thread back on the table and resumed your interrupted search in your trunk. Thankfully, you’d found the sleepwear and set it on top. Standing, you ran a hand through your hair and glanced at the wall chrono. It read 1730, so you grimaced and grabbed your ankle monitor.
“I have to go to the medbay,” you called over your shoulder, hopping as you slapped the monitor on your ankle. “I should be back around 2100, hopefully before.”
“Good luck, Shiv,” Hunter said with a nod.
You threw them a wave as you rushed out the door, headed for the medbay. They usually wanted you to be early so you could take a quick sonic shower and change into the proper clothes. As you’d expected, you found a droid waiting for you as soon as you entered.
“Greetings, Unit 526934,” the droid bleeped. “Please make your way to the showers. You’ll find clothes waiting for you when you’re done.”
You nodded, biting back a sigh as you made your way over to the shower cubicles. Getting clean, you clambered out of the shower and changed into the loose-fitting robes that they’d provided. Picking at the hem of the shirt, you walked out into the attached room.
The droid waited by an examination table. “Please lie here.”
Without a word, you climbed onto the table and laid down, staring up at the ceiling. The monochrome color swirled in front of you, making you grimace and close your eyes against the brightness. A few minutes later, the doors opened just as the wall chrono chimed. You didn’t even bother opening your eyes.
“Hello, Unit 526934. Welcome back.” The smooth tones of the female Kaminoan washed over your ears. She started to move through the room, her silent footsteps only marked by the rattling of tools. “I trust your missions have been successful.”
“Depends on your definition, but sure,” you said flatly.
“You seem distressed,” she noted.
“Tired,” you corrected. It wasn’t a lie. You were definitely tired of these checkups, the way they always insisted on poking and prodding at you, picking you apart, shoving things into your bones and veins. Taking things from you. You hated it. But this, as you knew, was the price you’d chosen to pay.
To stay with the Bad Batch? You’d be the most cooperative patient they’d ever seen.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like a tranquilizer while we do this checkup?” She offered.
“No thanks.” You kept your eyes closed, not protesting when her long fingers rested against your wrist.
The rest of the preparations took place silently as you forced every other thought out of your mind. You’d have to make sure you weren’t projecting too much so you didn’t bother the others. Sometimes, the way the Kaminoans experimented left you with an aching jaw as you grit your teeth against the pain.
Hooked up to an IV for a blood sampling and a medley of other liquids that they regularly drained into you, you felt the table jolt as you were pushed to the other side of the room. You opened your eyes, staring blankly above at the top of the machine that now hovered over you. It hummed to life, a soft light glowing at the edges of the smooth metal.
“According to your most recent report, you received a substantial injury on a mission,” the Kaminoan remarked smoothly. “Did you sustain any damage?”
“No,” you answered blankly, voice expressionless. “It healed over in two days. I had to cover it.”
The machine beeped, the droid puttering around the room coming over to check your IV. The blood sample had been taken, so it unhooked that line and instead gave you a small injection. Your arm numbed almost immediately, and you closed your eyes in resigned exhaustion.
“It looks like your scans show that you’ve completely regenerated sixty percent of the tissue in your arm recently,” the Kaminoan reported. “I will have to take samples to test. Did the injury reach your bone?”
“No.”
“Did you sustain any broken bones?”
“No.”
The Kaminoan tapped at the screen controlling the machine, readjusting the table so your head was mostly covered by it. You closed your eyes again, ignoring the other metallic clinks of instruments being prepared.
The Kaminoan returned. “It seems as though the removal of the inhibitor chips has continued to prove successful. Your brain functions have seemed to recover well,” she remarked clinically. “In time, you may have regained enough stability to consider a new one.”
You sourly hoped not.
The Kaminoan pulled the table back out, then settled you against the wall. The droid kept the fluids steadily dripping into your veins, and you felt the cold start to creep its way into your bones. Despairingly, you hoped that Tech wouldn’t mind if you ended up clinging to him like a leech by the time morning rolled around. It always came as a side-effect of the fluids. Though you knew that they boosted a lot of your internal functions, it still demanded a price.
“I will start taking samples.”
You grit your teeth, jaw ticking as you felt the cold needle press against your arm. It pushed, entering your skin without a sting thanks to the numbing agent, but you knew it wouldn’t last the deeper it went. And it continued to push. The pain started welling, and while you were used to pain, there was something about the cold metal point burrowing further down that always took you off guard.
The needle hit bone.
It took every ounce of willpower you had to shove back the scream that tore through your chest, welling in your throat. Ruthlessly, you shoved the pain away from the Bonds and down deep into yourself, willing yourself to stay quiet.
Your eyes nearly rolled back up into your skull with sheer relief when the needle pulled back out. The deep-tissue sample was usually the worst part. You could feel the light sheen of sweat that had broken out on your body start to cool even further, adding to the way your temperature dropped.
The ankle monitor beeped, warning about your plummeting temperature, and the droid instantly began to dial the fluid drip back. The Kaminoan nurse swiftly pulled a heat lamp down over the table, letting the artificial heat wash over you. Your muscles had started to tense with the cold, your eyes still stubbornly screwed shut against the pain.
“Your temperature should start rising soon,” the Kaminoan tried to soothe, adjusting the heat lamp.
Darkness plucked at the edges of your consciousness, and you blacked out.
~
Exhausted and still cold, you limped back into the Bad Batch’s quarters with the ankle monitor still on and a medbay blanket wrapped around your shoulders.
“Shiv?” Hunter sounded incredulous.
You looked up and waved them off. “This is normal, don’t worry about it,” you sighed, going to your trunk.
“What do you mean, normal? None of us have every come back from medbay looking worse than when we went in,” he demanded.
“Lemme get changed and I’ll explain,” you promised, grabbing your night clothes and heading for the bathroom. Changing into the comfortable pair of shorts and tank top, you wrapped the blanket around your shoulders again and shuffled back out into the room.
Tech was already sitting on his bed, so you went to go sit next to him, pulling the blanket to cover your feet. With a groan, you reached up to rub at your eye.
“Are you alright, Shiv?” Tech turned to you with concern, eyebrows furrowing.
“No, I’m freezing cold,” you said miserably.
“What did they do to you?” Hunter asked again with a frown.
You sighed, leaning into Tech’s shoulder. “Normal procedure for me is going in and getting a blood check, physical, and brain scan. I also have to get a bag of fluids that’s made to boost some of my biological functions, kind of like how you’re modified to be enhanced. It helps with my physical upkeep, but the side-effect is brutal. I’m going to freeze like an icicle for the rest of the night,” you grumbled. “And since I had to regenerate sixty percent of the tissue in my arm, they took a deep tissue sample.”
“A what?” Wrecker asked, tilting his head from his bunk. He held Lula up, craning his neck toward you quizzically.
“A deep tissue sample is when an injection has to be made in order to obtain cells from a section of a patient’s body,” Tech answered for you. “Oftentimes I’ve heard it can be very painful when it reaches bone.”
“They’ve got that right,” you said, eyes drooping closed with a heavy sigh. “They even had to turn on the heat lamp this time to get my temp back up. Oh, Tech,” you added as an afterthought, “I hope my ankle monitor won’t bother you. I have to keep it on tonight to monitor my vital functions. Like I said, the fluids tend to drain me of any and all heat.”
“It’s not a problem, Shiv,” Tech reassured. “If it goes off, what should I be prepared to do?”
“The only reason it’ll probably go off is if my body temp drops too low,” you sighed. “If I can’t, tap the monitor for me and it’ll manually send a burst of heat to regulate me.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright? You said the process was painful.” Hunter checked.
You shrugged. “Nothing I’m not used to,” you said. “If anything, I hope I don’t bother Tech. I’m going to become an ice-cold leech.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing I volunteered, then,” Tech said dryly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’ll have to take advantage of whatever chances I get.”
You let out a laugh despite yourself. “Be careful what you wish for. You might regret it in the morning.”
“Nah, if Tech doesn’t want ya I’ll take ya, Shiv!” Wrecker grinned. “Lula and I can make room.”
“Thanks, Wrecker.” You smiled, feeling the sleepiness descend. Yawning, you leaned your head against Tech’s shoulder.
The cold dragged you into sleep.
~
“Shiv. Shiv, it’s time to get up.”
You let out a groan, pulled out of blessed sleep. You didn’t want to move. You felt perfectly, comfortably warm, and something heavy was draped across your waist. Instead, you whined petulantly and buried your head into the source of warmth you were so tightly pressed against.
A sharp inhale of breath hissed against your ear, but you were already falling back asleep-
“Shiv.” Someone’s mouth had pressed against your ear. “We have to get ready for the conditioning in an hour.”
Slowly, the words bled into your sluggish mind. Conditioning... an hour. Tipoca. Kaminoa. Right. Training exercises. An hour-?
With a yelp, you jolted awake and found yourself flailing. Your entire body went off the edge of the bed, slamming against the unforgiving floor. Grimacing, you reached up to rub the spot where your hip had landed.
“Ow, ow— don’t scare me like that, Maker—“ You opened your eyes to see Tech peering over the edge of the bunk at you.
“You alright, Shiv? Sorry I didn’t catch you, you startled me,” he said.
You stared up at him for a minute, your brain starting to put pieces together. You’d... probably been pressed against him. And that weight: his arm on your waist. The soft murmur and his kiss to your ear. You flushed.
“Oh, Tech— I’m sorry, I told you I’d probably end up being a leech,” you groaned.
“I wasn’t complaining, Shiv,” Tech said, swinging himself to a sitting up position.
You sat up, still rubbing at your sore hip. “Well there’s another bruise,” you muttered. “Thank you, Tech. I feel back to normal, I think.” You stood gingerly, patting at yourself. Your body temperature felt pretty normal, a bit chilly from waking up but nothing unusual.
“As much as I’d like to continue seeing you walk around in that, I think you might want to get ready for the conditioning,” Hunter remarked, walking past.
You blinked, then flushed as you remembered the shorts and tank top. Shaking your head, you grabbed your outfit from your trunk and went to go change.
By the time everyone was geared up and ready to go, you were starting to feel a little less sore from the needles. While the numbing agent had worked, it sill left a bit of an ache deep in your arm where it had hit bone. You walked down the hall following Hunter and absently rubbed your arm.
“Is your arm still hurting?” Crosshair asked sharply.
You started a bit. “Oh... I mean, it’s more of an ache. The needle hit my bone, so it feels weird,” you said, shaking your head. “It’ll go away.”
You arrived at the training deck on time. Taking in a deep breath, you tried to mentally prepare yourself. You didn’t know exactly what they’d throw at you this time around. You had to be prepared.
The Kaminoans watched from the observation deck above as you walked in, the doors sliding shut with a hiss behind you. The Prime Minister was there as well, to no one’s surprise.
Force 99, please prepare yourselves for a standard simulation. Unit 526934, please prepare to engage yourself as a non-lethal training weapon only.
You simply turned to Hunter, waiting for directions. He nodded to everyone as they started pulling their helmets on. “You guys know the drill. We’re used to Shiv by now. Just act like you would any other mission. Shiv.” He turned to you, holding out his hand. “Permission to Transfer.”
You sucked in a breath and grasped his hand. “Transfer Granted.” As soon as you’d Shifted, you didn’t even bother projecting an astral form as the simulation began. You’d already defaulted to Hunter’s preferred modifications, though you carefully made sure that your fire was stun-only.
The combat droids started to swarm, causing Hunter to duck and weave through the barriers and start firing. A pattern soon presented itself, and you picked up on it as soon as Hunter did.
“Tech!” Hunter yelled, tossing you.
You guided the weapon into Tech’s outstretched hand, instantly splitting into two. You whispered across the Bond. Pattern of four, flanking both sides and driving a wedge down the middle.
Tech nodded as he continued to fire and make his way closer to Hunter. “So it’s trying to funnel us toward the center and get us trapped,” he deduced.
“Wrecker, clear a path down the middle, Tech and I will cover you!” Hunter shouted.
“Wrecker, catch!” Tech called.
Wrecker whooped and caught you easily, charging straight into the middle of the arena. You formed yourself into a stun grenade launcher, and he eagerly fired a few into the swarm. Manually charging in as Hunter and Tech picked off the ones that got too close, Wrecker used you to both shoot as well as physically bat away some of the droids.
From a vantage point, Crosshair had already started sniping down the towers and picking off droids that threatened any of his other teammates.
Droids started swarming you and Wrecker even more, and you were pressed to focus on both keeping a second eye out for him as well as making sure your shots were still stun-only instead of live fire. They swarmed towards the center, and you quietly murmured across the Bonds.
Wrecker laughed heartily, elated by the action and the promise Hunter’s conveyed plan presented. “Let’s do it!” He roared, swinging you in a circle and firing gleefully. “Come and get it!”
It only took another moment before Hunter yelled “Now!”
Wrecker barely hesitated, pushing himself off the ground in a mighty leap to the side. He fired unerringly toward the mass of droids, a stun-grenade arcing through the air. A bolt from Crosshair hit the grenade dead-center, and it went off in a mighty pulse as you dragged Wrecker down to the ground to avoid the shockwave of the blast.
All the droids hovering in the air instantly dropped, sparking.
Slowly, Wrecker looked up. A moment of silence, then a bell chimed from above.
Simulation complete. Prepare for phase 2.
Wrecker scrambled to his feet. “What? Phase 2? What’s that?”
Hunter, Crosshair, and Tech quickly came up.
You materialized over Wrecker’s shoulder. “Phase 2 is my fault,” you said quickly. “It’s meant to be a test of how well I can switch between all of you as need be. There’s going to be most likely a set of obstacles of some sort that will lean on your individual strengths and see how well and quickly I can adapt.”
Hunter nodded. “Everyone keep as close as possible and support Shiv. Keep sharp and listen to the Bonds and each other.”
Everyone nodded and scattered to nearby barriers. For the time being, you stayed with Wrecker.
As soon as you caught sight of a droid staring to rise from a panel in the floor, you sent a pulse over the Bond. Wrecker barely paused before turning and chucking you clear across three barriers.
Hunter caught you as you Shifted into his modified blaster. “Any ideas, Shiv?” he asked tightly.
It’s a heavy fire unit, You guessed by its build. I don’t know what mods it might have, but I think treating it like an armored assassin droid would be best.
He nodded, then leapt over the barrier and started to run towards the droid. He weaved and dodged the bolts, and you Shifted into an energy shield to help block any stray blasts. Hunter dropped and skidded across the floor as you Shifted back into a blaster. Leaping up, he shoved the blaster into the crack between the two chinks of chest armor and fired.
Dodging out of the way, Hunter instantly turned and kicked at the droid’s legs. You Shifted into a vibro-shiv, and he slashed instantly at the droid’s back plate. The droid fell to its knees, and Hunter sank the shiv into its head plate, carving it open. You Shifted into a blaster again, and he fired instantly into the now-open head.
The droid crumpled, and Hunter whirled around to look for the source of the faint buzzing he’d heard. As soon as he caught sight of the tiny, round droid speeding around the edges of the room, he whipped his arm back.
“Cross!” He shouted in warning.
You Shifted midair, guiding yourself into Crosshair’s hands, already complete as his preferred modified sniper rifle. He smirked, then sprinted over to one of the towers in the room. You positioned your astral form in the usual place to his left. He climbed the tower, taking up a spot and propping you up on the railing.
Peering through your sight, Crosshair let out a quiet breath. You took the moment of complete silence in his head to gather yourself, preparing for his next order. His warning came a split second before the shot itself, but you were prepared. His shot hit the tiny droid almost dead-on, and a moment later you’d deflected a last ditch-effort shot made by the now-useless droid.
Crosshair turned his head to catch sight of the tower’s control panel flickering on. “Tech,” he hollered down, dropping you.
Tech looked up, catching both blasters you’d Shifted into flawlessly. Crawling around his barrier, he started into a dead-sprint toward the nearest tower. He lifted you as you Shifted into another shield, holding you above his head just in case. You took a single shot thanks to his weaving and dodging, so you were ready when he reached the tower.
He instantly propped you up and began slicing into the tower’s controls. It took him all of a minute while you braced yourself. You kept Shifting sizes of the shield depending on the shots aimed toward you. If you concentrated on a shot, it was much easier to conserve energy, maybe even absorb it and use it to refuel yourself. But the larger the shield, the more the shots would take out of you.
It didn’t take long for Tech to finish slicing and recoding the tower. Its turret rotated and started firing at the others until they were all down.
Tech grabbed you, letting you Shift back into his twin blasters. He sent you the schematics for a set of weapons, then shouted “Wrecker!” You automatically became an IWS as Wrecker caught you, but you studied the schematics Tech had given you with interest. A pair of armored gloves?
You started to copy the weapon, figuring why not? Wrecker looked down in surprise as you covered his hands, forming into the heavy gloves.
“Whoa, what are these?” Wrecker’s eyes lit up with interest as he turned his hands over.
Why don’t we find out? You asked with a smile. So far, this had been the most successful Phase 2 you’d ever experienced, and while you could feel the stress, it didn’t debilitate you like it had before.
Wrecker looked up just in time to see the center floor panel open up to reveal a giant droid ambling forwards. He grinned, then slammed his fists together in front of himself. The gloves started sparking, and you quickly made them stun instead of live energy.
With a whoop, Wrecker leapt forwards toward the heavy-duty droid. His first punch with the gloves made the droid shudder, sparking; but after a moment, it recovered itself and pressed forward again. You kept half a mind on Wrecker and continued studying the schematics of the gloves, refining the gloves and streamlining it as you familiarized yourself with it.
“Hey Shiv,” Wrecker grunted, still punching away at the droid, “what else do these do?”
You absently flicked on a button, and faintly heard Wrecker whoop as energy coils started threading between the gloves. Wrecker knocked the droid’s legs out from under it and started to wrap the energy coils around its head and neck joints. Still, you only half paid attention as you continued to study the schematics. They had aspects that made you wonder if Tech had been modifying it himself. There were mods that clearly hadn’t been made for a standardized weapon.
“Gimme a last good punch, Shiv!” Wrecker hollered.
You looked up from the schematics, shifting your attention, and powered up the gloves to as high of a safe extent as you could. Wrecker let out a shout and slammed his full weight into the chest of the droid. The entire chest plate caved in, and you winced as the stun energy rippled though the entire rest of the droid, reducing it to a heap of smoking parts.
Wrecker stood, nodding in satisfaction and smacking the gloves together. “These are awesome!” He cheered, shaking his fists in the air. “Hey Shiv, can we use these more often?”
You materialized over his shoulder, staring at them yourself. “I haven’t figured out all of it yet, so it might take me some time to make it better. But yes, if you’d like,” you agreed.
He turned his head to you in surprise. “You haven’t?” he asked as the rest of the team approached, the finish bell ringing.
You shook your head. “Tech gave me the schematics before he passed me to you.”
“You mean you made it functional on the fly?” Hunter asked, surprised.
You nodded. “Yes. I’ve studied weapons for most of my life, so it’s not as difficult anymore. But this schematic has modifications that weren’t meant for this weapon originally, so I’ll have to further study it to make it as practical as possible without compromising the rest of the weapon’s functions and overall integrity.”
Tech adjusted his goggles. “I didn’t expect you to try it right away. It was a weapon I’d found base schematics for on a mission. I thought I’d try to make some mods to accommodate Wrecker’s particular preferences. I figured I’d share what I had with you for the time being, since you’re now our partner and weapon.”
You disengaged, staggering a little as you dropped to the ground. Catching yourself, you shook your head from the giddiness that bled over from Wrecker.
“I like it,” Wrecker said with an adamant nod.
You smiled dizzily. “G-good.”
Hunter caught your arm. “You good?” His eyebrows furrowed for a moment.
“I’m fine, just-“ you squinted, balancing yourself. Taking a breath, you re-centered and shook your head. “I’m a little... that was the best I think I’ve ever done for a Phase 2,” you admitted breathlessly.
“You did great.” Hunter gave you an encouraging nod.
“I believe that was also one of the quickest battle sims we’ve managed to complete,” Tech noted, scrolling on his wrist unit. “We took a total of eight minutes and fifteen seconds for the first one. During Phase 2, Shiv Shifted weapons a total of 12 times in the span of twelve minutes and twenty seconds.”
Battle Simulations Complete. Performance Satisfactory. Prepare for mission assignment within forty-eight chrons.
You flushed as your stomach let out a loud growl. You hadn’t really eaten since lunch the day before, and you were now feeling it.
Wrecker laughed. “Let’s go get food!” He clapped your shoulder and started toward the doors.
Tech fell into step beside you as you all walked towards the now-open doors. “You did very well,” he offered. “I saved the footage in case you wanted to review it.”
You gave him an appreciative smile. “I’d love that, thanks, Tech. I’m glad I did well.” You let out a sigh of pure relief. “It was really stressful.”
As soon as the Bad Batch walked into the canteen, you mentally braced yourself for snide comments. It was always the same no matter who you were with, and worse if you were alone. Still, you hoped that the others wouldn’t be too effected by it.
Grabbing a tray, you felt your shoulders hunch a little. You just... wished others would simply ignore you. Their comments didn’t even matter, but it always felt so awkward. And sometimes, you’d found, ignoring them only earned you more trouble. Putting the bland food on your tray, you wished for a moment that you could just cook something yourself on the ship.
You followed behind Wrecker’s bulk as he confidently made his way to an empty table. Feeling a presence behind you, you glanced back with wide eyes to see Crosshair following behind you.
“Sit on my side of the table, Shiv,” Cross said coolly. “Wrecker always starts something in the canteen when others make comments.”
Though you didn’t really mind either way, you nodded and slid into the spot next to Crosshair on the bench. Hunter slid in on your other side, while Tech and Wrecker sat across from the three of you.
You just silently tucked into your food, grateful for the nutrition at the very least. Wrinkling your nose at the dubious soup, you decided to dunk your bread into it instead to avoid the taste as much as possible.
“The soup never is good,” Hunter said with a roll of his eyes as he copied you.
You nodded with a soft hum, spooning the other food into your mouth.
A group of troopers passed by your table, chuckling and nudging each other. “Well if the outcasts don’t find each other,” one of them sneered in your direction.
Another snorted. “Yeah, looks like the Sad Batch found the flimsi-opener.”
You were fully prepared to ignore it all when Wrecker leapt up from his seat.
“Leave Shiv alone,” Wrecker fairly growled, glaring at the group of troopers.
Choking on a spoonful, you pounded at your chest at the unexpected rush of heat that traveled down your body at the sound of Wrecker’s voice dropping that low and raking down your spine. It was the sound of his voice as much as the abrupt defense that took you off guard, and the way your body reacted to it completely unbalanced you. You could feel color burst in your cheeks as you stared wide-eyed up at Wrecker still glaring balefully at the troopers.
“Sit down, Wrecker,” Hunter said, waving his hand. “They don’t know what they’re talking about anyway.”
Wrecker huffed. “They don’t deserve to talk to Shiv like that,” he complained.
You shook your head wordlessly, trying desperately to shove the memory of Wrecker’s face contorted in a feral snarl, his growl rolling through your mind. You weren’t even sure why it had effected you so heavily, but... You shifted a little in your seat, realizing with despair that Hunter would probably be able to smell your reaction at this rate.
“You okay, Shiv?” Wrecker turned to you, back to his normal husk as he frowned.
You coughed, shaking your head and then nodding. Swallowing thickly, you pressed your thighs together and desperately tried to refocus on your food.
Beside you, Crosshair let out a low, knowing chuckle. His hand under the table briefly brushed up your leg, and you let out a squeak, instantly clapping your hand over your mouth.
“You look flushed, Shiv, are you alright?” Tech frowned, observing your face.
“No- ye- no-“ you choked out, pointedly trying to look down at your tray. Biting your lip hard, you picked up your spoon again. Why was everything suddenly so... sensitive?
“If they say anything again, I’m throwing this table,” Wrecker said darkly, glaring around the canteen.
You couldn’t take anymore. You needed out. Standing abruptly, you grabbed your tray. “Excuse me, I’ll- I’ll be in the room-“ You fled, choking on your own words. Fairly throwing the tray at the return, you started running down the hallway and out of the canteen.
You barely made it to the barracks before your knees gave out. Leaning against the table, you sucked in a burning breath and closed your eyes, shivering. You didn’t even know why, but something about the way Wrecker had instantly stood to his full 6 foot 6 inches and growled at the person who had insulted you just... did something. It was like someone had flipped a dusty switch in your mind and broken a dam in the process.
Sucking in a breath, you grabbed your sleep clothes and went to go change in the fresher. You needed out of your blacks as soon as possible. The heat that spread through your whole body was the polar opposite of what you’d felt the night before.
Still, even after you’d changed into the tank top and shorts, your body still felt like it was on fire. The heat puddled in your lower belly, making you press your hand against it. Your skin felt so hypersensitive, the comfortable clothes rasping against you in a way that made you squeeze your eyes shut.
Grabbing a datapad, you shakily tried to scroll to the report of your last medbay visit hooked to the ankle monitor you’d shed that morning. Scrolling through it, you pulled up the list of the fluids you’d been injected with. A particular side effect listed on one of them made you let out a broken groan and sink down onto the nearest bunk.
The door flew open. “Shiv?”
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siancore · 3 years
Note
Hi Siancore, how’s your day? I wanted to ask how you write Sambucky Fanfics. Because I want to write a Sambucky chapter book, and I don’t really know how to write their personalities. Can you please help if not it’s ok. Thanks have a good day/night☺️
Hey. I’m doing okay today. Thank you for asking. I hope you’re well! 
I’m happy to help you by going through how I write:
1. Their personalities 2. Chaptered fics
Firstly, I have drawn a lot from their 616 personalities as well as the little we’ve seen on screen pre-FATWS.
Let’s start with Sam. Some personality traits, attributes, and skills:
- Care-giver
- Compassionate
- Empathetic
- Adrenaline junkie 
- Risk-taker
- Smart
- Charming
- Funny
- Staunch 
- Physical prowess 
Next, Bucky:
- Protector
- Morbid/wry sense of humour
- Self-deprecating
- Intuitive
- Caring 
- Funny
- Dangerously skillful 
- Empathetic 
- Flirty
- Driven 
Now, some mannerism that you should include:
- Sam crosses his arms over his chest when he is making a point
- Bucky narrows his eyes when he is concentrating 
- Sam’s smile is bright
- Bucky’s smile makes his eyes crinkle at the corners
- Sam isn’t a fast runner, and Bucky never runs fast when he is with Sam
- Sam can fly, but choses to run (slowly) with Bucky
- They have been protective of one another in the heat of battle using their own physicality 
- Both are super precise with their attacking and parrying 
- Both have looked at one another with heart-eyes (it’s canon!)
- Both love to bicker with the other
Let’s now look at story structure:
Your overall goal: What story do you want to tell? What happens? How does it end?
For story ideas, this is the structure I follow:
1. Orientation: Who? Where? When?
2. Complication: Situation that causes difficulty for one or more of the characters.
3. Resolution: How the characters navigate the difficulty; how it has changed them.
4. Ending (optional): How they have learned from the changes.
For chapter outlines, I make sure to cover the following:
1. Setting/Time
2. Characters - main and background
3. Problem/Difficulty
4. Solution
I then use plot points as a chapter outline. By elaborating on the plot points (a paragraph per point - 250 words, give or take), I flesh out my story. Points are what you want to explore in the chapter, the story is the details that stem from the points i.e. what characters are doing/feeling/saying.
For writing in general, set a schedule. Word count goals are useful, too e.g. setting a goal for yourself to write 2 paragraphs of your story per day. If you stick to a standard chapter (2,500-3,000 words), writing 2-3 paragraphs per day, and then editing and proofreading on the weekend, means you could have an update posted each week.
Please keep in mind the following:
- Motivation to write will fluctuate
- Finding inspiration can sometimes be difficult
Don’t force it! Your story will come to you. Take your time. Allow yourself to be happy with what you have come up with before you share it.
Here’s a little example for you, if you wanted to tell a short multi-chapter romcom fluff fic about SamBucky being shy about asking one another on a date, you might flesh your idea out like this using plot points:
Overall Goal: Sam wants to ask Bucky out on a date, but he’s not had much success in the dating game for a while. They like one another, but both are shy and out of practice. Fluff ensues.
Chapter 1:
 - Meet cute through mutual friend
 - Instant attraction
 - Shyness
 - Difficulty: Not being confident enough to make their move
Chapter 2:
 - Mutual pining
 - Running into one another again
 - General awkwardness
 - Talking about their crush to their mutual friend
 - Being persuaded by friend to act on feelings
 - Difficulty: Misunderstanding - thinking their feelings are not reciprocated
Chapter 3:
 - Getting to spend some time together without help of mutual friend
 - Flirting
 - Playful banter
 - Finding that they are a good match
 - Crushing on one another even more
 - Awkwardness about the previous misunderstanding
 - Finally asking the other person out
 - Date is confirmed! Yay!
Chapter 4:
 - Excited about date
 - Nervous about the date
 - Worrying they will screw it up
 - The obligatory scene where a good friend helps them get ready
 - Actual date
 - Climax, ending in a kiss, another date, time jump to their wedding etc.
With your plot points, you can elaborate on them, and have your story flowing sequentially. Each point can end up being at least two paragraphs (around 250 words each). Always have your ending worked out, and use your plot points to get there.
Remember to follow your narrative structure in each chapter by setting the scene and showing which characters are involved.
Good dialogue enables you to show what is happening in your scene through your characters.
Space your ideas out and decide on which scenes you want to detail in each chapter. Don’t try to do too much! You don’t want your chapter to be convoluted; you don’t want impactful scenes to be lost because too much is happening.
Your first sentence of each chapter should grab your reader, and your final sentence should leave them wanting more.
One strategy that works for me when I need to flesh out an idea is to write the scene (plot point) as if it’s a recount I am telling someone. I then go back through the recount, and change it so it fits the narrative structure. For example, if we used the above story idea, the outline for Chapter 1 could look like this:
 - SamBucky met through mutual friend, Steve.
 - They hadn’t been known to one another before, but found one another very attractive. 
- Both were shy, and a little out of practice since they had not dated with much success after their long-term relationships had broken down.
 - Bucky thought Sam was smart, pretty, funny, easy-going. 
- Sam thought Bucky was charming, handsome, kind, easy to talk to. 
- Sam thought about asking him out.
 - He thought about asking Sam out.  
- They both wanted to see one another again, but was it too soon? They had only just met.
 - There was an opening for one to ask the other on a date, but lack of confidence got in the way 
- They missed their opportunity
All of these can be expanded on and fleshed out with: - Details about setting - What characters are thinking - What characters are feelings - What they are saying - What complications arise - How, if at all, it is resolved
Basically, if you know where you want your characters to end up, and you know which part of your story you want to focus on in which chapter, all you have to do is provide the details.
Chapter titles help with this, as well:
Chapter 1: The Meet Cute
Chapter 2: He’s Just Not that into Me?
Chapter 3: A Good Match
Chapter 4: Oh My Gosh, I have Nothing to Wear!
Here are a few more tips I can think of: 
- Try to have a writing/updating schedule. 
- Set a daily goal to write at least one paragraph of your story, and at least one conversation. 
- Watch fanvids for inspiration. 
- Talk to other writers in forums. 
- Read! Read! Read! See what other fic writers are doing well and learn from them. 
 I hope this helps. Happy writing!
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snarky-badger · 3 years
Text
Okay. Part one of five of my General Grievous... short stories, I suppose. Featuring my OC Kyra.
This was supposed to be a multi-chapter story. Kyra was a child when she met Grievous pre-cyborg. She was on Tattooine, in the 'care' of someone who raised animals and such. ('animals' being a loose term in the star wars universe) Later Grievous goes back, she's around 30 now - finds her. realizes that she's good with animals and 'appropriates' her as a caretaker/trainer for his pet roggwart, Gor. Shit happens. she treats him like a person not a droid/cyborg. he's an asshole, she gets mad at him. they bitch at each other a lot.
There. you're caught up. lmao.
Anyway, enjoy the slight story and definite smut. (I still can’t believe I wrote this)
Please comment on whether you want the other 4 parts.
(Also, should I put this on AO3??)
ONWARDS!
Part The First.
.
.
"Oh really? And how's that been working for you?"
A low rumbling snarl left Grievous as he spun to glare at Kyra, only mildly impressed when she didn't flinch away from him. "And what," he growled, voice harsh, "gives you the right to assume that you know anything about me?"
"I can sense you," she said softly, glancing away when his eyes narrowed at her from behind his mask. Sighing, Kyra rose a hand, one of the lightsabers that Grievous kept hidden in his cape flying into her grasp. He stiffened at the motion, clawed mechanical hands curling into fists, even as she held the saber out for him to retrieve. "I'm not a Jedi, Grievous, and I don't plan on becoming one. But, I don't want to be a Sith either...."
He snatched the lightsaber out of her open hand and activated it, growling as he angled the glowing blue blade close to her face. "I should cut you down where you stand!"
Kyra glared up at him, blue eyes boring into reptilian yellow for a long moment before she snarled at him. "Fine then," she snapped, ignoring how those golden yellow eyes widened in surprise at the ferocity in her voice. "Go ahead! All you've done since bringing me here is treat me like garbage! Worse than garbage! I thought living on Tattooine was bad, but this is worse! I thought, hoped, that some of Qymaen jai Sheelal still remained, despite what you've done to yourself, but you're not who I remember! The being who gave me that promise is dead and gone! So do us both a favor, General Grievous, and kill me already!"
He stared at her in shock, watching the tears that streamed down her face and idly wondering if she even knew she was crying. Something in him twisted at the sight of her pain, and a deep, rattling, sigh left Grievous as he deactivated the saber, his free hand rising to carefully brush the moisture from her left cheek. It surprised him to no end that Kyra shivered and turned her face into his taloned hand, trusting him not to hurt her, despite her outburst.
Slowly, fighting against everything that screamed at him to shove her away, Grievous hesitantly tugged her forward, crouching a little as he wrapped his arms around her. His cyborg form easily took her weight when she leaned into the embrace, her warm breath tickling across the sensors built into his chest armor. The warmth and pressure of her body sent a shiver through him, cybernetic sensors that were implanted in his armor activating at the stimulation. It had been so long since anyone had dared to touch him. And certainly longer since he had felt the urge to comfort anyone.
He felt her fingers curl around some of his back armor, returning the hug as best she could, fairly snuggling into his chest, her head coming to rest just above where the armor protected his gutsack, where the few remains of his flesh lay hidden. Moving carefully, Grievous used his greater height to his advantage, leaning over her a little, the movement bringing his masked head close to hers. A brief thought, and his arms split into four, servos giving a little whine as he curled three of the four appendages around her, the fourth sliding into her fire-red hair, bringing her head closer to his masked face so the olfactory sensors there could drink in her scent.
"Kyra, I.... I....." He growled, one hand clenching into a fist at her back, disgusted that he couldn't bring himself to apologize.
"It's alright," she told him softly, pressing her cheek to his armor as she sensed his roiled emotions.
Grievous sighed and leaned his head against hers, tucking her warm body closer to his, the cloak he wore about his shoulders sliding forward to curl around her as well, partially hiding her from view. "How can you sense me? Dooku constantly complains that not only do I have no Force-sensitivity, but that I'm invisible to his own senses."
"I don't know," Kyra admitted, leaning back a little to meet his bright gaze, blinking at the calm contentedness she saw there. "I've always been able to attune myself to those around me. Until you told me otherwise, I thought it was the same for everyone who could use the Force."
He shook his head slightly. "From what I've learned, you're the only one who can sense the Kaleesh in what I've become," he said, his synthetic voice losing the harsh edge it usually had, more of a whisper now. "Most think me a droid, even those with Force senses."
"I don't."
"I know. It's refreshing. And.... comforting." He gave her the slightest of squeezes, one hand settling on her right hip while two other arms kept her wrapped in a hug, his fourth hand still toying with her hair. "But how can you tap into the Force if Count Dooku didn't sense anything in you?"
A soft smile tugged at her lips. "It's one of the first things I taught myself, how to hide from others. I didn't want to be found by either the Jedi or the Sith...." She paused for a moment, dropping her gaze from his. "Are you going to tell Dooku about me?"
He jerked back, stunned at the question. "No! In fact, I don't want him anywhere near you! If he finds out that you can use the Force, he'll take you to Sidious. Worse yet, if either learns about---" His vocalizer momentarily froze as his mind caught up with what he was about to admit. He had spent so long, trying to lock his emotions away, centering himself on becoming a better warrior, a better strategist. And now, to find himself on the brink of actually admitting to having such powerful feelings towards her was.... disconcerting.
Part of him was disgusted that he was even suggesting the thought of weakening himself, of letting long ignored emotions return to the surface. But the other, the part that had been hidden away, the part that was still Kaleesh, still Qymaen, and flesh and blood, and singing at Kyra's closeness, realized that he had been a coward. Despite all his improvements, all the battles won and the trophies he collected, how could he call himself a warrior if he was afraid to accept the peace that Kyra's mere presence afforded him?
How could he ignore the part of himself that fairly screamed for some small bit of comfort, however fleeting?
Grievous knew that he had been losing himself to rages more and more often, something that he had hardly ever done before. Certainly, he had been, - and still was - an accomplished warrior. But he was also a strategist. He knew that letting anger overwhelm you during a battle was foolish. Anger clouded thoughts, made one sloppy. And a mistake during the high-stake fights he now found himself in would be very, very costly.
As he turned his attention outwards again, meeting Kyra's worried gaze, he suddenly realized that he couldn't remember the last time he had actually felt so relaxed. The anger and rage that usually boiled at the edge of his thoughts had eased, his legendary temper no longer tearing at his control. He felt.... well, not mellow, but certainly calmer than he had in a long, long time.
Giving in, Grievous hugged Kyra to himself, carefully angling his masked face close to hers. "No one can ever know of the fondness I hold for you," he told her, sensors thrumming at the shiver that went through her body. His fourth hand rose to her face, metal fingers playing across her cheek, touch receptors relaying the feeling of silk soft skin against his metallic palm. "Outside of secured locations.... I won't be able to acknowledge this, Kyra. It would put both our lives at risk, especially yours."
She frowned slightly. "They'd use me to get to you."
He nodded, relieved that she understood. "And vice versa, I imagine," he muttered, chuckling a little when she blushed. Growling lowly, Grievous pressed his masked face against the curve of her throat, sensors fairly singing as they took in the softness of her skin and the richness of her scent. "Ah, Kyra, whatever will I do with you? I find myself missing the time where I was more flesh than machine."
The admission tightened something in her abdomen, and she leaned away from his touch to meet his gaze again. "Can I try something? I promise, it won't hurt."
A grumble left him at that. "You want to use the Force on me."
She nodded, raising a hand to caress the side of his mask and smiling a little when he turned his face into her hand. "Will you trust me? It won't hurt, and if you feel the least bit uncomfortable, all you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will."
Her fingers stroked the side of his facemask, heightened sensors in the armor activating under her touch, and it was all he could do not to groan happily at the contact, very aware that her other hand was caressing the metal on his chest. At that moment, she could have asked him to defect to the Republic, and he might well have done it, just as long as she kept touching him. "Go ahead."
Kyra smothered a giggle at the contented growl in his voice, then pushed her amusement aside, focusing solely on what she was about to do. It was simple for her to tap into the Force. Instead of a mystical power, she had always thought of it as a different form of energy; an energy that only a scant few were sensitive to and which even less were able to wield.
Energy could be harnessed if done correctly, like the solar collectors on some other worlds. It could be molded to do many things, within limits. The nature of the Universe couldn't be changed. People lived and died, that was the way of things; but life could be extended to a certain degree, and disease and damage could be healed. Time was it's own master, even the Force was no match for it. Other limits were attached to the one opening themselves to the Force. It took concentration, practice and a fair amount of willpower to learn to harness such energy; and there were bound to be many failures before achieving a specific goal.
Kyra had learned things the hard way, without a guide or teacher. Trial and error had been harsh, but she liked to imagine that she was more flexible than others that used the Force. Some things that she had taught herself were simply not done by either the Sith or the Jedi, according to Grievous' information. Like what she was about to do.
It came to her so easily, like running water, invisible power flowing through her veins as she brushed her fingertips down one of Grievous' arms, triggering and enhancing every receptor and sensor that she knew was hidden in his armor.
The caress, powerful and so very warm, nearly sent him to his knees, little pulses of energy flitting across the circuits that crisscrossed his cybernetic frame. His cyber-organic brain translated the signals into throbs of pleasure, a strangled moan crackling out of his vocalizer as his eyes slid closed, hands clutching at Kyra as a shudder wracked his body. It took him almost a full minute to become coherent again, and even then, Grievous found himself struggling not to beg her to do whatever she had just done again. "W-What did you--?"
"I can manipulate energy to a certain degree," she told him, smiling as she lightly trailed her fingers up and down his upper left arm, causing him to shiver and tighten his hold on her. "I'm just.... sending little surges through your receptors."
Another small wave jolted up his arm, echoing through every circuit and wire in his entire body until he was fairly shaking, the wicked talons on his feet sinking into the dermaplated floor. Urges that he had thought lost rose to the surface, his two lower hands dropping to her waist to pull her pelvis against his as his hips arched towards hers uselessly.
While the action still pulled a rather delightfully breathless gasp from Kyra, he couldn't help but growl in annoyance at his metal body, his mind instantly running through the lewd thought of having some sort of attachment fashioned. The mental images did nothing to stop his newly awakened lust, his voice coming out in a near purr as he picked her up in his lower arms and carried her towards her quarters, upper hands already tugging at her clothes. "You realize that I intend to finish what you've started?"
Kyra met his smouldering gaze and leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek, a little thrum of energy accompanying the gesture. "I wouldn't have started it otherwise."
Growling, he carried her through the automatic door to her room, stepping through and pausing only long enough to balance on one foot while using a metal toe to type in the lock command, insuring their privacy. "You're mine now," Grievous told her, partially burying his face in her hair as he stalked towards her bed.
His final upgrade into his cybernetic body had eliminated the need for sleep, and thus, the need for a bed. But now he found a small part of his Kaleesh mind wishing he could have brought her to his own quarters to claim her there, various memories of his past where he had taken his wives to bed for a night of rather impassioned sex.
The memories only fueled him, a low rumbling growl leaving him as he set her on her bed and crawled above her, eyes drinking in the sight of her before careful talons cut her clothes away. Every bare inch of flesh he uncovered looked like heaven, the hands of his upper arms caressing newly exposed skin while the lower continued to rip the material off of her body. Though it all, Kyra never stopped touching him, fingertips gliding across his arms, throat and chest, pulses and surges of pleasure only intensifying his need to have her laid bare before him.
"I haven't been with anyone since I began upgrading myself," he warned her as he threw the scraps of her clothes over his shoulder, sending his cloak after them seconds later before turning his burning gaze onto her once again, lower hands already mapping her body. "You must tell me if I hurt you. I can't claim you in the normal fashion, but I can still give you pleasure."
Kyra shook her head a little and rose herself on an elbow to bring their faces closer together, one hand stroking the side of his masked face and shivering in anticipation at the lust in his bright gaze. "You won't hurt me," she murmured, sliding her hand down his throat and across his chest until she took his right upper hand in hers, rising it to her lips and pressing a kiss to his metal palm. "I trust you."
That one small gesture sent a stab of arousal through him, his body wracked by a shudder when she playfully suckled on one taloned finger, touch receptors detailing how warm and soft and wet her mouth was. Groaning, he descended on her, all four hands caressing her body as he struggled to map out every inch of her, sensors drinking in every gasp and moan that escaped her, every arch of her back and roll of her hips. He explored every bit of her, easily bracing himself above her as he slid one hand into her hair, the second lightly tracing the curve of her throat while the third closed over one breast, his fourth hand dropping to her inner thighs, teasing her with gentle strokes.
And to his growing delight, Kyra was far from passive. She matched every touch, every stroke. Sometimes it would only be a warm throb that washed through him, leaving him craving more, while others were roiling waves of pleasure that threatened to completely overwhelm him, his breath leaving him in very audible moans and growls. She would drag her fingernails across his armor, the sensation making him arch his back and close his eyes, only to gasp seconds later when she dared to tickle at sensitive joints, the contrast both refreshing and oddly arousing.
Both of his upper hands shifted to knead and massage her breasts, talons ever so careful against the soft skin. His left lower hand settled on her hip, holding her still as his right cupped her, one finger sliding into her wetness. Her hips instantly rolled into his hand, a needy little mewl leaving Kyra as she clutched at him, her blue eyes darkening to a rich sapphire.
Growling, he shifted above her, dropping his face to the crook of her neck to drink in her scent, shivering when she rose a hand to stroke the back of his head, tiny little eddy's of Force energy dancing across his duradium skull. He wrapped his upper arms around her torso, tugging her slightly upright as he rubbed his face against her skin and purring when she placed a warm kiss to the side of his head.
"Touch me," Grievous whispered against her throat, mind whirling as she arched in his arms, her breasts rubbing against his armored chest. All the while, she constantly brushed her fingertips across any bit of him she could reach, the light caresses no where near what he really wanted. "Touch me. Really touch me. No one touches me.... I'm not a droid.... I still remember what it felt like...."
The pained tone of his voice brought tears to her eyes, and Kyra immediately wrapped her arms around him, pulling him as close to her as she could, even daring to rub her left leg against his metal calf. A sort of desperate keen left him, his body giving a shudder as he clung to her, his four hands rubbing over every single inch of her back and shoulders, the lower two dropping to her thighs to further lift her towards him.
Muttering Kaleesh endearments, Grievous rubbed the side of his head against hers, sensors along the front of his body singing happily at the sensation of her pressed tightly against him. The heat of her body warmed his armor, her hands clutching and stroking at every bit of him that she could reach, her caresses stronger now in response to his plea.
He returned the favor, leaning back to gaze down at her as he mapped out every inch of her face and throat with fingertips and palms, his two lower hands sliding down to her chest while his uppers trailed across her shoulders. A pleased growl left him as he cupped her breasts, teasing her by flicking her nipples for a second before kneading the silk soft flesh, watching as her eyes fluttered closed, a pink blush spreading across her face. The sight spurred him onwards, a frustrated curse leaving him as he nuzzled his mask against her left breast, wanting nothing more than to taste and suckle.
A particularly intense pulse of energy nearly sent him over the brink, his breath coming in rough pants as he shook his head and caught her wrists in his upper hands, pinning them above her head. "Not yet," he growled, drinking in the sight of her gasping under him in a mix of delight and lust as he rubbed his lower hands down her abdomen, purring in approval of the hungry look in her eyes.
Her hips arched towards him as he brushed the fingers of his right lower hand against her thigh, his gaze locking with hers as he slowly slid one finger into her, a low groan leaving him as receptors relayed how hot and wet she was. Hissing, Grievous transferred her hands into one of his, dropping his now free upper left hand to massage one of her breasts as he slid the second and then the third finger into her warmth, growling when she gasped and rolled her hips.
Shivering, he closed his eyes, centering his mind on how tight and wet and hot she felt, and lewdness be damned, he was definitely going to look into getting certain 'enhancements' for his cyborg form, because feeling her through his fingers just wasn't enough.
Bright yellow eyes snapped open to stare down at her, wanting to memorize the sight of her arching and trembling under him as he moved his fingers inside her, his lower left arm carefully repositioning one of her legs to give him better access to her. He brought her to the brink twice, stopping each time and waiting until her body had reluctantly calmed before stroking her again, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her. All the while, he reverently brushed his upper left hand across her skin, caressing every bit of her that he could easily reach.
Shivering, and greatly aroused, Grievous nuzzled his face against her chest, moaning when she gasped his name and arched towards him, one of her hands twisting in his grip so she could brush her fingertips against his wrist. Little shocks traveled along his upper right arm, leaving trails of warmth and pleasure in their wake. He growled at the sensation, repaying her by stroking her inner walls and delighting in the full body tremor the touch caused.
"Now," he growled to her, releasing her hands and closing his eyes when she immediately reached for him. A ragged purr left his vocalizer as he shifted his lower right hand, gently pressing his fingers deeper into her, quickening his movements, pushing her to climax. "Now. Want to feel...."
Gasping for breath, Kyra splayed one hand on his chest, the other grasping his shoulder as he stroked something deep within her that pushed her ever closer to the edge, her back arching as she cried out. Unlike the other times, he didn't let her pleasure wane, his hands continuing to caress her, even as he moved his fingers in and out of her, his lower left arm wrapping around her waist to keep her close.
Struggling to stay in control for just a moment longer, she moved her hand from his shoulder to stroke the side of his masked face, coaxing him to rise his head from her neck so she could meet his reptilian gaze. His golden eyes were filled with all the emotions and words that he couldn't give voice to, and she held his gaze for a heartbeat before leaning up to place a kiss just below his right eye.
The tender gesture pulled a full-body tremble and a desperate growl from him. "Kyra!"
Something inside her snapped, and she cried out as her climax ripped through her, her hands scrambling to hold onto Grievous as he jerked above her, a helpless howl of pleasure leaving him as the energy unleashed by her orgasm crashed into him. His arms locked around her, body trembling as every wave of her climax echoed into him, her awareness of him sharpening for one brief moment before all coherent thought left her, and all that was left was pleasure.
.
.
End Part 1
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