#unless of course the writers manage to pull a fast one on us and either destroy the show by a nonsensical twist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chronicbatfictioner · 3 years

Text

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 17

Jason was having the time of his life.

Dick was sure of it. He might grump and sulk a lot more than before, but Dick was sure that he was having fun. Sure, guarding Damian might be a little more than tasking, after a while - especially since Damian was so certain that he could face Bane alone if it comes down to it, conveniently ignoring the fact that: a. he's ten and practically one-tenth of Bane's size; b. the Waynes most likely would detest having to clear intestines off the marble floor if Damian were to be let near a katana and/or Bane, and c. Alfred definitely would detest cleaning intestines or parts of Damian off the floor or walls.

And d. Bruce Wayne seemed to actually enjoy having Damian around and has no qualm in talking to Damian as if he was twice his age. Bruce's age, that is. Not Damian's. Dick suspected that Bruce has spent a lot of time talking to 60-year-olds.

But there were numerous forms of excitement that were offered by the Wayne Manor. First and foremost were the cars. Dick has never learned to drive - being a Talon kind of impeded the learning process of 'common human things'. Jason, however, was an excellent driver. He had mentioned something about being a getaway driver in warzones, and Dick couldn't be sure if he was telling the truth or joking. Either way, he rather enjoyed it whenever he and Jason had to take Damian somewhere in town.

Except for today, as somebody seemed to have tampered with the car.

It wouldn't brake, and they were cruising really, really fast.

Hence Dick's belief that Jason was having fun. He did not look perturbed at the slightest as he controlled the car, swerving crazily over the backroads, making sharp u-turns instead of going into the city roads and went back where they came from. Within a mile from the Drake House's gate, Jason finally managed to cut down the speed to the point where the car's engines died and it rolled to a stop. On the Drake House's gate.

"Seriously, people," Tim remarked dryly as they walked in - leaving the car at the gate and settling their respective adrenaline back down. "I've heard of visiting the neighbors, but must you be like, dying and/or damaging people's property before you come here to say hi?"

"The car was tampered with," Damian reported. "Must be the brute. And I shall replace your gate, Drake."

"I think I'm down to like, eight lives. No-- seven." Dick admitted, "my heart's still beating a hundred miles per minute. Good thing, though, at least that way I know I'm quite alive."

"Dick, you're a bird. Not a cat." Tim deadpanned. His eyes never leaving Jason, who had lit up a cigarette as he walked through the house. "Since when do you smoke?"

"Since I was eleven," Jason replied. "And since I walked into a house that has laser triggers that were set up by a lunatic. Smoke worked to reveal them all."

"I'm... partially scowling because smoking kills. But I suppose laser triggers would kill faster..." Tim replied.

"The lasers are used to trigger booby traps just about Damian's height. If he were to be a common kid and run around the house, he'd be decapitated within the first few days." Jason continued bitterly. "What the fuck is wrong with that giant lump of steroids, anyway? He was ready to kill a child!"

"The nutshell version is that the child would prevent his usurping the Waynes' wealth." Tim pointed out. "The long version is that I don't think he's really the child of Dr Wayne, the Waynes know of it, and they're literally being held hostage in their own home. Also, you people are being watched, too, by drones. I've asked Harper to kill those drones for entering my property."

Tim then explained Bruce's visit and the USB. "Oracle has contacted him and told him we... the Birds, that is - are investigating the evidence."

"How long until we can punch the asshole out of the house for good?" Jason demanded, accepting a bottle of water Tim handed him. Slowly and gently. Making sure his fingers brushed Tim's. And Dick had to swallow a grin.

"That, unfortunately, would be up to the GCPD. Did you guys saw the news? Vicky Vale's article on Damian?" Tim... preened a little, waving his hair as he walked away from Jason. Dick's lips itched, he wondered if Barbara or the other girls -- if Selina or Dinah have noticed this. The two were definitely flirting.

"I have seen it. It had good pictures of my mother and grandfather, and quite... adequate descriptions of both of them." Damian replied. "Evidently father has made a comment to the writer about me looking like him when he was my age."

"Well, you kind of do look like him, except for the green eyes." Dick pointed out. Bruce's eyes were blue - like both his parents. But from the photos of little Brucie around the house, Dick could see a little of Martha Wayne in Damian's still-round face. "When did Bruce make the comment?"

"Oh, Vale called him." Tim snickered. "She still has his personal number, and she commented something about hearing a - quote: 'constipated buffalo sounds in the background' - unquote. She was also wondering if Bruce was in a bullfighting ring somewhere."

"Seriously?" Dick laughed.

"Seriously. Even Barbara couldn't stop laughing hearing that." Tim assured him. Jason rolled his eyes but looking amused, anyway.

"Sooo... a possible off-road accident for the apparent heir is in the books?" Jason suggested.

"I won't put it past Bane. Damian...?" Tim started. But Damian already nodded in acknowledgment.

"I shan't eat anything that is not presented by Todd or Grayson, nor will I frolic the manor on my own. This shall be more to bear witness to your insinuation of my 'child-like' behavior than to take care of me, Drake, as I am quite capable of sustaining my own life." Damian scoffed.

Tim paused visibly for a good two seconds, before nodding, "of course. Furthermore, I can assure you that Alfred is safe, mainly because as a butler, his focal interest would be the actual Waynes. That's in his training - unless an offspring is publicly announced, they are not to be cared for by the Butler. In Wayne Manor, the proverbial child would solely be Bruce - for obvious reasons, and Damian, whom Bruce has publicly acknowledged." Tim explained.

"He was in MI6," Jason remarked. "Alfred, that is. Not Bane. It would be safe to say he's loyal. He told me of the booby traps and that Bane has a daily dose of injection of the steroid-like substance. But I-- we shall prepare you emergency rations - just in case, anyway."

"You guys can always drop by here. And don't think that Damian would be Bane's only target." Tim reminded. "If I was him, I'd take out the big guns - that is you two - first; and then Bruce, because he'll want to be protective of his son; and then Dr and Mrs Wayne last."

"Then I'm afraid you are forgetting one of the members of the household that is most dangerous, Master Tim," a voice spoke; Jason pulled out his gun, Damian automatically hid behind him while pulling out a small dagger.

Dick wanted to lunge right toward the source of the voice until he realized that it was Alfred Pennyworth, both hands raised up to show that he was unarmed.

"How...?" Jason growled, "I didn't hear the front door open."

"Apologies, gentlemen. I should have informed you that there is an underground passageway between the two houses that were once used frequently, but now has all been forgotten." Alfred explained. "You were right that I was in MI6, Jason; as you were right that my focus will and forever shall remain the true Wayne blood, Master Tim. Not ones who claimed as such and refused to provide irrefutable evidence."

"Does Bane know of this passageway?" Tim asked.

"It is located in the staff's wing, and as he is not permitted to be there, I sincerely doubt it," Alfred replied. "I have my own... booby traps and surveillance that should tell me if anyone has been there." he smiled. "I am aware that both of you have prowled the entire house at one point or the other in the past few weeks." he nodded toward Jason and Dick. "You were stealthy, indeed."

"But not stealthy enough?" Dick quipped. "I gotta go back to training... Anyway, why are you here?"

"I saw your vehicle's mishap and its stop here. If anything, Bane is not... stealthy enough." Alfred pulled out a small memory card. "To get to the garage, one must pass the servants' hall. And the garage is my province."

Tim accepted the memory card, plugged it into his cellphone; and then projected its content to a wall. "Huh... this should be enough evidence of tampering..." Tim commented. The memory card showed a clear date stamp - that morning, a few hours before Bane and the Waynes left the house. It also showed Bane himself, jacking the car that was now resting with a dented bumper at Tim's gate, while holding a plier.

"Anyone watching our car now?" Dick commented. "Won't be cool to have it suddenly fixed, will it?"

"Harper should be. Plus, y'all are on my property. If he trespasses, I'll have his ass arrested." Tim huffed. "So... if anyone has ideas--" Jason and Damian's eyes lit up; Tim glared at them and continued "--that do not include sharp and/or exploding objects of how to remove Bane from the Manor..."

"I'm fresh out," Jason replied mournfully. "No sharp objects, no exploding objects... what do you expect me to do? Poison him?"

"But Todd, did my mother not teach you the arts of food as medicine?" Damian piped up.

The sudden silence as all eyes landed on Alfred was quite ominous.

"I will not conduct a crime, young masters," Alfred remarked dryly.

"Oh nooo... not a crime," Jason grinned mischievously. "It's just... you know that Damian was born in the Middle East, yeah?"

"I may have quite a culinary skill, but I fear that my Middle Eastern cuisine knowledge is rather limited," Alfred said demurely.

"Well, mine isn't." Jason grinned. "Besides, what else should one do to celebrate one's entrance into such a distinguished family; but hold a family dinner?"

"You're going to poison him." Dick groaned.

"Not to death!" Jason protested. Dick gave him an unimpressed glare. "Just... to the point where he would realize that he and I have opposing objectives."

"Do let me know of the ingredients you require, Jason." Alfred intoned. "Or perhaps you prefer to shop on your own? I shall fetch a new, un-tampered-with vehicle."

"Oh, please do, Alfred. I doubt we can make a single trip. But they will be fun." Jason replied, grinning.

Dick knew that the sense of foreboding was not in him only. Tim looked like he was contemplating moving away to Alaska.

"For the records, I don't know anything about cooking," Dick said defensively.

"I'm... truly and fully reconsidering my life choices," Tim admitted.

"Oh, don't worry, Drake. Todd was trained by the best," Damian grinned mischievously. "I pity the fools who think him as a brute. I pity the brute who think that small equals weak."

#Batless!AU #JayTim #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #stray!tim #RedGhost!Jason #Talon!Dick

27 notes · View notes

shadow--writer · 3 years

Text

Through That Mist I See the Shape of You and I Know That I'm in Love With You

after WEEKS of writers block and rewriting this bitch I HAVE FINISHED. TITLE (it slaps)

Maeve x Lucas. Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to tell you I love you. 6k

CW (im changing it lol): mentions of past trauma (Lucas), some bat hisses n hatred, flirting, these are dorks in love

@dela-png

A headache was starting to build behind her eyes.

Were all dates with Lucas going to be this...eventful?

...unlucky?

Incredibly unlucky?

She stared at the bat on the table, who was currently locked in a hissing battle with her partner. Tehi had fluffed herself to look bigger than she was, wings spread on the table. The high pitched hiss was directed at the one and only Lucas.

Who was shooting her a wounded plea for help.

Oh this was going swimmingly. At least she didn’t get bit by an eel this time.

...unless he could summon them to land, which she almost doubted. But knowing him and the magic of this town? It was likely.

She sighed, massaging her temples.

“You royally pissed her off,” she said after a moment, cracking an eye open to look at him. She giggled, watching him rest his head on the table. He banged his forehead, making her snort.

“Why! I didn’t do anything,” he moaned, looking over at her. She patted his head, Tehi letting out another hiss.

Currently, Tehi was in front of their dinner, biting his hand every time he reached for something. His hands had suffered quite a bit in the past ten minutes.

He stared longingly at the apple rings and the butternut squash he brought. “She’s even guarding dinner,” he grumbled.

The situation was...delicate.

Tehi, bless her heart, was on thin fucking ice. Lucas, bless his heart, was treading on eggshells.

And her? She had no heart to bless but she was ready to give up and go on without any more squash (sadly enough).

Having a territorial protective bat had its downsides. She grew up with Tehi, finding her in a tree injured and eating the fruit for harvest. Broke her ankle trying to get her down, her father lecturing her for hours after.

But Tehi knew her. And she could read how she felt about Lucas just by body language alone.

And Tehi was not happy.

Of course, the sentiment was sweet, Tehi was being protective because of things in the past (that she was currently trying to viciously ignore), but...now she was just making sure Lucas starved.

And Lucas…

Was sulking. She saw no end in sight unless Tehi stopped hissing.

Second date was going worse than the first.

“Most animals like me,” he said, reaching for Tehi, jerking his hand back as she lept for him. “Why not her? Is it a scent thing?”

“It’s uh...me thing.”

He looked up at her as she scooted closer to him, resting her hand on his knee. “Tehi doesn’t...like people getting close to me...romantically. Friends are fine, but you are um…”

“No longer a friend?”

She patted his knee with a smile. “No, I still treasure our friendship, we’re just different now.”

“So she just doesn’t…”

“Like you. Being with me. Like this.”

“How does she know?”

She felt herself flush. “She um...just knows! She’s been around me most of my life so she can read me pretty well.”

“Oh...like Jolie and me!” His brows furrowed. “So she doesn’t like...me being with you?”

“It’s a very horrific crime, I’m afraid. Mo mhuirnín dílis,” she said, kissing his forehead. He settled into her touch, Tehi letting out an indignant squawk. “I don’t think she’ll ever forgive you for this.”

He made a face. “Well she’ll have to get over it.”

“Mmhmm, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for a while longer.”

He opened his eyes, smiling a little. “I like being stuck with you.”

She flushed. “Don’t be sappy in front of my bat. She hates you enough already.”

He puffed his cheeks out in a pout, the face strikingly similar…

...to one she made.

“I don’t want her to hate me though,” he whined, looking over at Tehi. She clutched her strawberry close, letting out a very angry hiss at his gaze. He turned away.

“I’m afraid you have no choice. You’ll grow on her eventually.”

“Eventually,” he repeated with a grumble. “Eventually, is not a now.”

“Be patient, mo grá. She’ll come around. You have a way of getting to people.”

“I do?”

“You did with me. It was very shocking how fast you managed to wedge yourself in my life.”

“Yeah. Then you tried to get rid of me.”

“Strong words! It was more like...give you a nudge elsewhere.”

He raised an eyebrow, making her giggle. “Fine. Maybe I was getting rid of you. But I had very good reasoning for it.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked softly, making her blink in surprise.

“No...it was just...you scared me a little,” she murmured with a small smile. “You still do.”

“Why?”

“You’re...different. From what I’m used to. You’re just...so...open.”

“Is...that a bad thing?”

Curse those eyes, big blue and pleading. It was like he didn’t even notice how he affected her when he looked at her like this.

She brushed his hair back. “You built a window instead of a wall. You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

Tehi watched them, perched on a plate. Lucas reached over and she bit his finger. He let out a curse, shaking his hand as he pulled away, sticking his tongue out at Tehi.

She bit back her laughter. “I can help with those.”

“It’s fine,” he muttered, popping the finger into his mouth.

“Is it bleeding?”

“A little.”

“Lucas.”

“Mm fine. I’ve gotten worse.” Her eyes were drawn to the scar around his neck, and the ones disappearing into the collar of his shirt. They felt familiar, like something she’d seen before. She reached out, brushing one of the scars. The ones that looked like the marking of an animal.

Or the symbols on her walls.

He jolted under her touch, staring at her with wide eyes. She pulled away quickly, not thinking.

“I’m so s-sorry! It’s just…” her brows furrowed. “Those markings feel familiar. I’ve seen them before...not just when my clinic was broken into.” She met his gaze. “What are they from?”

His eyes darted away as she asked, wringing his hands. “Made some...bad choices,” he said gruffly. “It’s nothing.”

She blinked, shifting away. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He reached over for her hand and hesitated. She bridged the gap and laced their fingers. “You’re fine,” he murmured, sitting up and leaning against her. “Just stuff I don’t want to talk about.”

She hummed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I understand. I won’t ask if you don’t wanna talk.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do,” she said with a smile. “Besides, we have bigger fish to fry.” She looked back at her bat. “...and that’s getting dinner.”

He winced. “Does she have to bite me?”

“Apparently.”

Tehi chirped, preening.

He glowered. “She has sharp teeth.”

“I offered to help.”

He slouched against her, knocking her off balance. She let out a small squeak, wrapping her arms around his neck before she fell out of her chair.

He laughed, resting his head against her shoulder.

“Lucas I’m gonna fall!”

“Mmhmm.”

“And take you with me.”

“That’s nice.”

“Get offa me!” She was giggling, bumping her head against his. “You’re too heavy!”

“Mm but if I can’t eat tonight then I guess I’ll just sleep.”

“I can move her, you know.”

“Yes but that’s not gonna stop her from biting me.”

“…or trying to eat your hair.”

He cracked an eye open, wincing. “That too.”

She giggled, kissing the top of his head. “Good news is, she tries to eat everyone’s hair.”

“Is that just...a Tehi thing?”

“Yeah. I think she thinks it’s going to taste any better the more she tries it. Though, watching her chase Malory around was pretty funny.”

“What did he do specifically? You mentioned lying, calling the guards and erm…”

“Murder? Trust me, I have thought about it.”

“I’m aware.”

She flicked the tip of his nose, making him wrinkle it back. “He accused me of stealing. Tehi, well, she’s a bat. No sense of money and trade, only get food to live. I paid for what she took, but he...wasn’t happy about her taking it in the first place. He has the best fruit in the market so her taking things...became a habit.”

He winced. “So he calls the guards on you?”

“Every time he sees me near his booth. Sucks the best fruit in the market has to be sold by an asshole.”

“I could always go grocery shopping for you. If you’d like me to.”

“You...would? For me?”

He nodded, resting his chin on her shoulder. “If he’s the one making you walk all the way to Center City to get fruit, then I’d be happy to go for you.”

She turned and hugged him, burying her face in his neck. “Oh thank the stars. I was close to trying to grow my own fruit. It would have been a disaster. I can barely take care of my medical herbs.”

He let out a small squeak, arms slowly wrapping around her. She made eye contact with Tehi, and if looks could kill.

“You’re a disaster,” he murmured, making her giggle. “Amani grows plants if you ever want to ask her about them. I dunno if she grows any...fruit, but I know she has aloe. I get some of my spices from her.”

“She has plants? That’s amazing!” She brightened at the thought, letting him go. He smelled deliciously sweet, like nutmeg and cinnamon. “...you think she’d teach me how to keep a plant alive?”

He grimaced. “She could barely teach me. I killed a succulent and she quit.”

“I don’t have the time to take care of plants. Or I just don’t balance my time wisely.”

“I um...don’t manage my time well either.”

“...yeah, you workaholic.”

He blushed. “I-I’m not that bad.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Mmhmm. Working yourself to the point of passing out is not that bad.”

“That was one time.”

“I had to carry you home!”

“You had help!”

“Same thing!”

He snorted, making her giggle. Tehi blinked at them, seeming unimpressed.

And now they were being judged by a bat.

He moved over to grab a strawberry, Tehi chirping at the sight.

“I think we found our way to get her to like you,” she said, leaning against him.

“Food?”

“Always a good choice.”

He prodded her side, making her swat at his hands with a squawk. “Is that how I won you over?” he teased.

She wrestled his hand away from her side, struggling against him trying to poke at her again. “What if it was?” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. “I might just marry your pumpkin squash if I could get to it.”

Tehi chirped as if she liked that idea better.

“Hey! Don’t take her side!” Lucas said, turning to the bat on a plate. “She’s mean, I’m the nice one.”

“Aww, are you mad that she likes me better?” she teased, kissing his cheek. “What? Can’t win the affection of one little bat?”

“She’s not little and you know it.”

She giggled, tapping the tip of his nose. “If it makes you feel any better, my family would love you.”

“They…would?”

“Mmhmm. Especially my father and grandma. Cooking fanatics. I grew up trying new dishes. But…sadly I got my cooking ability from my mom.”

He laughed, a blush warming his cheeks. “I could teach you if you’d like.”

“You’d quit.”

“I would not!”

“Oh please! Most of my dishes either explode or are inedible. You’d quit within two minutes.”

“If we don’t have another great Jolie flour incident I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“…Lucas, I am the great Jolie flour incident.”

“You can’t be that bad.”

“Try me. I’ve burnt eggs that weren’t cracked.”

“…how did you even do that?”

“Long story.”

“Trouble,” he said, ruffling her hair.

She grinned. “You like it.”

Tehi chirped again, staring at the strawberry he had. He tentatively reached over to give it to her, Tehi snatching it from his fingers and holding it close in her claws. He jumped back, the chair toppling over at the force.

He fell backwards with the chair, making her crack up.

“Did I not warn you she’s protective of her meals?” she asked, looking down at him.

“Apparently.” He winced, rubbing the back of his head. “Not.”

She giggled. “Whoops.”

“Does she do that to people she hates?”

She grabbed a strawberry, handing it to Tehi, watching as the same thing happened. A wicked little smile played across her face as she mimicked what he had done, down to the facial expressions and knocking her chair back.

Her head hit the floor hard, but she was giggling.

He shot her an unimpressed look, fighting his smile. “Gee. Thanks. I feel way better now.”

She looked over at him with a smile, her hair spilling out across the floor. “That was the funniest reaction I’ve seen to her.”

“…thanks.”

She snorted, squishing his face. “Don’t pout.”

“You’re so mean though,” he said, voice muffled due to her squishing his cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over this slight to my pride.”

She kissed him lightly. “Mmm I’m sure you will.”

He shifted closer to her, wrinkling his nose. “Don’t patronize me.”

She giggled, running her hands through his hair and rubbing her nose against his. “I would never.”

He snorted, kissing her softly. “She really likes strawberries, huh?” he whispered after a moment.

She bit her lip, smiling. “She’s gotten me to like them just as much. Back home we had strawberry plants growing everywhere! Blueberries and blackberries as well. My Mhamó would bake so many pies during the first pick of the harvest. Our fingers would be stained red,” she said with a giggle. “Once Aislin ate so much her mouth was stained for a week. Someone thought she ate a person! Devoured them right off the bone!”

He snorted. “Are they your favourites?”

“Well…” she pursed her lips, thinking. “Have you ever had the first strawberry of the year? Ripe and sweet? I could eat them for hours and not tire...so...I guess they are. Tehi loved them from the get-go and I always carry some around.”

“Is that why you always taste like strawberries?”

She blushed, blinking. The question was innocent, she bit her lip and giggled again. He brushed her hair back, thumb running against her skin. “I um...guess so! But I don’t hear you complaining,” she said, nuzzling his cheek.

He shifted his face to capture her lips, burying his hands in her hair. “I think I like them better this way,” he said with a soft smile, nose brushing against hers as he kissed her again.

“We should get back up,” she murmured, being cut off by him kissing her again. “Lucas.”

“But if we don’t get up Tehi won’t keep hissing at me.”

“But squash.” She pouted, thinking about it. “I’m serious about marrying it.”

“How about you marry me instead, then you’d get all the squash you’d want.”

She snorted, kissing the tip of his nose. “Want me to have an affair with your cooking? It’s very tempting, I must say.”

He laughed, resting his forehead against hers. “Well? What do you say?”

She giggled, tugging at his hair. “Let me think about it.”

“Don’t take too long.”

“Oh yes because I’m the one asking you. What? Many people flocking to your door? Struggle tying you down?” she joked, kissing his cheek. “I’ll have to have more before making my decision.”

“If you can get around Tehi, that is.”

“I can get around her. She loves me. You on the other hand...”

He sulked. “Don’t remind me.”

She giggled, rising to her feet and picking up her chair. “Need help?”

“View is nice from here.”

She raised an eyebrow, squatting down next to him. “I’ll sic Tehi on you.”

“...you wouldn’t.”

“It’ll get her away from the squash.”

Damn, the puppy dog eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

He kept at it, she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Fine! I wouldn’t. But you should get up at least.”

He sighed. “If I keep feeding her will she like me?”

“It’s how you got me to marry you.”

He snorted, getting off the chair and putting it back up. “Well I guess it’s not all bad then, huh?”

“Make a fruit pie and she might love you forever.”

“...she can eat those?”

“She sure damn tries. My dad tried making one and she had eaten most of it by the time we finished dinner. He was so mad he tried to ban her from the house.”

He laughed as she sat down, reaching over Tehi (and giving her a pat) to pile more squash onto her plate. She let out a happy hum, biting into it. “Mmm alright maybe I will marry you,” she said, cracking an eye open to look at him.

He plucked a cinnamon apple ring, dramatically holding it out for her. He raised his voice an octave. “Maeve O’Connor, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

She snorted, laughing. Her cheeks warmed, she knew it was fake. He was joking. But it was nice. He was looking at her with a soft affection, like he actually meant it.

But he couldn’t have. He didn’t even love her.

“And then have an affair with your cooking?” she joked, pushing down her feelings. He was just flirting.

He slipped the dessert on her finger, kissing her knuckles with a wink. “If it gets you to say yes.”

She giggled, staring at the treat on her hand. She bit into it, smiling at the familiar taste.

He gasped in offense. “Maeve, that's your engagement ring!”

“It’s delicious.”

“I worked hard to earn the money to get that! I spent weeks working up the courage to ask and you eat it?!”

“But it’s good!”

He kissed her once, then twice. “You are going to make me work every damn day of my life, eating my hard earned money like that.”

She smiled, tilting her head up to kiss his chin. “Mmmhmm. But you asked me.”

He only shook his head, stealing food from her plate.

“Hey!” she yelped, reaching for the fork. He held it just out of her reach, teasing her.

“Aww can’t reach?” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.

“Curse these short limbs,” she replied, crawling into his lap. He blinked as she wrestled his hand, tugging the fork back down to her. She bit the squash off the end, grinning smugly.

He flicked the tip of her nose. “That was mine.”

“No you stole it from me. I’m not gonna marry a thief.”

“But Tehi won’t let me get any more!”

“I can get it for you!”

“No! You’re just gonna eat it all!”

She pursed her lips. “That’s true.”

“And you think I’m a thief.”

“You stole it from my plate!”

“You don’t have any evidence.”

“I watched you! And don’t repeat my shitty logic back to me!”

He laughed, ruffling her hair. “Can I at least have a bite of your engagement ring?”

She gasped, clutching her hand close to her chest. “Never. It is my engagement ring. I can eat it if I wish!”

“But I gave it to you!”

She made a face at him. “But it’s mine now!”

He made a move for her hand, she pressed her hand against his cheek, holding her other hand above her head. “No!”

“But Maeve!”

“No!” She was giggling so hard her ribs hurt.

There was a flutter, and the makeshift ring was snatched off her finger.

Tehi chirped, perched on a nearby bookshelf with the apple ring.

She and Lucas stared for a moment before cracking up. “Looks like neither of us got it,” he said.

“And it looks like someone objects to this marriage.”

He tilted her chin, smiling softly. “She’ll have to try harder than that to stop it.”

She blushed at the sincerity of his words as he kissed her. For a moment she thought he was serious about it. He’s really gotta stop that, messing with her heart and head like that.

“So...a bat huh?” he started, looking back at Tehi. “Like animals?”

She smiled, trying to fight her blush away. “Yeah. Tehi was an unexpected twist during a hide and seek game, but I grew up loving animals. My older sister has two dogs now.”

“Oh?” “Yeah! They’re very sweet girls, energetic as well. I dunno how she deals with him all the time. She’s written to me many times about how much they get into the baby food back home. She and her fiancée have four kids, one is a wee baby. Cutest little thing.”

“Do you like dogs?”

“Depending on the dog, but yes.”

“Depending on the dog?”

“I’m uh…” she flushed. “Scaredofbigdogs.”

His brows furrowed as he mouthed her word jumble back. “Scared? Why? They’re babies! Big sweethearts!”

She scratched the back of her head. “Well um...I got attacked by wolves when I was a teen. Kinda puts a damper on the whole...big dog thing.”

“...well. That’s a good reason.”

“Oh wow thank you for your approval, oh mighty big dog master.”

“Hey, they get a bad rep. Big dogs are amazing. They just get labeled as dangerous because they’re big.”

“Oh, so like you?”

He let out a choked noise, blushing furiously. “Well I-I mean...y-yeah?”

She smiled, brushing his hair back. “Hmm...I guess you’re okay.”

“Thanks. My fiancée is so loving.”

“Only for you.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile, chasing her for a kiss. She giggled, cupping his face in her hands.

“I’d like you even if you were a big dog,” she murmured, kissing the tip of his nose.

His cheeks reddened as he chuckled. “I’d like you even if you were a small dog.”

“Hey!”

“Thumbelina, you couldn’t be big in any form.”

She sulked. “You don’t have to say it though.”

He smiled, kissing her fingertips. “It’s true.”

“Hmph.”

He squished her face, rubbing his nose against hers. “Don’t pout.”

“I’ll pout if I wanna,” she sniffed, making him smile. “I’m small but I pack a punch.”

He winced. “I’m aware. I think you broke my nose.”

She giggled, biting his fingertip. He yelped softly, pulling away. She grinned at his glare, him holding his hand close. “Don’t be a baby. It was a love tap.”

He muttered to himself, looking at his hand. She left a small indent. “I felt no love in that tap.”

“You didn’t look hard enough.”

He snorted, resting his hands on her thighs. “Yeah let me rethink about you kicking me in the nose lovingly. That’s for sure what I felt.”

“In my defense, you insulted my honour twice. If you won’t defend me, who will?”

He tapped his fingers, making her squirm. “I learned my lesson. Next time I’ll win.”

“Mmm next time huh?” She giggled, throwing her hair off her shoulder. “Want a rematch?”

“Absolutely. This time I know your secrets.”

“Someone’s a sore loser,” she teased, flicking the tip of his nose. “And you only know some of my secrets. I am a mysterious woman, you may not know all of my secrets! I’ll kick your ass every time.”

He kissed her softly, holding her hands and lacing their fingers. “We’ll see.”

“Oh I know it.” He rolled his eyes, making her smile. She looked at their clasped hands, hints of cinnamon sugar still dotting her ring finger. He raised her hand, kissing the sugar away.

“Hey, that's hints of my long lost engagement ring!”

He smiled, kissing her inner wrist. “You were right about it being delicious.”

She rolled her eyes, fighting back her smile as she slowly climbed to her feet. “I know.” She looked at the food on the table, long forgotten. “I’ll...put things away. Take some home?”

He kissed her palm, letting her hand go. “You can keep the squash. I think it’ll get eaten.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I have enough food at home, and you need it more than I do.”

“I don’t need it.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“...yesterday.”

He raised an eyebrow, she blushed.

“...morning…”

“Exactly. And I get lectured.”

“Well, you had time to eat, I didn’t.”

He rolled his eyes. “Potato patato. Take it, and please eat. Who will kick my ass if you’re too tired?”

“Amani.”

“...touché.”

She giggled, picking up the plates. “If you want to keep trying to win Tehi’s affection, I’ll leave the fruit bowl out. I’ll pack some of the apple rings for you.”

“Okay.”

She hummed, wrapping the squash and apple rings up in a cloth, looking over her shoulder to see Lucas making kissy noises at Tehi, holding a strawberry out for her. She hissed when he moved close, stopping when she saw the gift.

Maeve giggled, placing the plates in the sink.

“...is this yours?” he asked after a moment.

She looked up, moving closer to where he was pointing. It was a sketch, one of many she had scattered about. Her brows softened as she looked at it. “Yeah. It’s of my home.”

“It’s beautiful, I didn’t know you drew.”

“I usually paint, but sketching is nice. My aunt taught me how, since drawing is a good skill to have with magic.”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, watching her with soft eyes. “Magic?”

“Yes! Like sigils! Those can be used in different ways, drawing helps guide it. I have a sigil on my neck at the base of my skull…” she lifted her hair up, showing the three swirls. Mind-body-soul, as her sister said. It was her first, a stick and poke they did on a whim. “It helps amplify the magic I want to use, it can’t amplify raw magic, that comes from you but…” she blushed. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

He blinked, smiling. “No no! It’s interesting, tattoos are a way to transfer magic?”

“They’re a way...to channel it. To draw from you and your surroundings. Tattoos are more permanent versions of sigils, but they are some of the most powerful.”

“I think I have one of those.”

She lit up, bouncing on her toes. “Really?” He nodded, cheeks reddening. “Where is it? Can I see? What does it do? What are the side effects?”

The look he gave her was startled, she blushed, rocking back onto her heels. “I um...sorry. I just...love this type of magic.” She laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Most people don’t do tattoos with it, since they are permanent. I could...ask slowly?”

“O-Okay!”

“Where...is it?”

“On my back. Between my shoulder blades.”

She furrowed her brows, wrapping her arms around him, prodding at his spine between his shoulders. “Here?”

He nodded, staring at her wide eyed and blushing. “Y-Yep!” he squeaked out, making her giggle.

“What does it do? Magic wise, I mean.”

His brows creased, overshadowing his eyes. “I...don’t know exactly. I think it makes me...stronger? When I want to be. It helps with...healing and I have a higher pain tolerance.”

“So a strength sigil? It would...feed on your strength you have and help aid you when you tap into it. The pain tolerance and healing could be a meaning behind some of the symbols, but I’d have to study those.”

He smiled, laughing. “If you wanted me to take my shirt off you could’ve asked.”

She blinked, going over the implications before blushing. “I um! I didn’t mean it that way! S-Sorry it just-”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You're fine, I’m teasing.”

She grumbled, wrapping her arms around him as she stood on her tiptoes. “I wouldn’t mind it either.”

He blushed, making her bite her lip as she smiled.

“I have been studying sigils for a while now. I just made another breakthrough with some! Currently looking into light sigils due to how easy they are…”

“May I see?”

Her lips parted in surprise, eyes widening. “Y-You’d want to see it?”

“Of course I do! It’s something you get excited about, even if I might not understand it...why wouldn’t I?”

“Not um...everyone likes to listen to me ramble.” She giggled, nervous. “It’s fine! I tend to be long winded.”

He kissed her softly. “I think it’s cute, I like seeing you talk about it. I’d be happy to listen.”

She kissed him back, harder. She knocked him off balance as she pushed herself off the ground. His hands hovered over her waist for a moment before he bundled her close.

“I’ll show you,” she murmured, letting go of him. He set her down, letting her take his hand and guide him to her room. “My room is a mess because of it, I must warn you.”

He laughed. “I’ve seen a messy room before.”

“Yeah. Yours,” she teased, winking as she nudged her door open. Tehi followed them, chirping as she fluttered up to a small bookshelf cluttered with small trinkets. Tehi snuggled close to the dog Lucas had given her, so many weeks ago. He stared at the bat and the wooden dog, his smile growing giddy.

“You still have it!”

She looked over, smiling. “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes with a bashful smile. “I didn’t think you’d keep it.”

She squeezed his hand. “It was a gift.”

He looked at her with a soft smile, letting her guide him to sit on the floor. She gathered the pages on the floor, lips twisting as she looked at the symbols. “Do you want to draw your own?” she asked, half bent over, looking over her shoulder.

“Draw my own?”

“I can show you, if you’d like.”

“Alright.”

She smiled, face warming. Her freckles on her arms started to glow brighter as she scooped up blank paper. He held out a hand for her, helping her sit, nestled in the crook of his side.

“I’d like to see your tattoo eventually,” she said, laying out the papers. “If you’d let me.”

He kissed her cheek. “Sure, I’d be happy to have a magic expert analyze it.”

“I’m no expert. You’d be better off seeing the magician in Center City.”

“I’d rather have you.”

“I’m touched.” She reached over his lap for her pens, chewing on her lower lip as she looked at the blank sheets of paper.

“What’s first, oh mighty powerful witch?”

She giggled, handing him a pen and scooting a paper over. “Drawing the sigil. Here’s the light one I’ve been using.” She showed him the page, a line curving down and another tucked in it. Three lines connected the swirling ones. “These symbolize balance. Balance with light, no light can exist without shadow and shadow cannot exist without light.”

He traced the three lines connected the swirled. “And these symbolize the bond between the balance?”

She grinned, clapping her hands. “Yes! Exactly!” She leaned into him, holding her pen. “Sigils are all about the idea and magic you’re trying to put out there. What you want to happen, putting that want into the drawing and the magic in the air, activating it with the same.”

He watched her draw the sigil, copying her movements. “And how do you activate it?”

“Some are powerful enough to use a look, or a connection. I usually use my hands. Your hands are powerful.” He finished drawing the sigil, letting her take his hand and hold his palm open. She traced the lines, like she had some time ago. “Remember your palm reading?”

“Yeah.”

“Lines hold meaning. Heart, sun, fate, head, life. Magic flows through your hands. Hands are the start and the finish of magic, the connection between you and the earth. Am I making sense?”

“Kind of.”

“Think of it...like a connection. Magic from your hands seeps into the thing you’re trying to activate, a sigil in this example. Your hands are...an anchor.”

“Oh…” he whispered, looking at his hands. Peering at them with critical eyes. “That makes sense.”

“And now that you’ve drawn the sigil with the intent for light, you anchor and channel that magic into your want for light.”

“How?”

“I can show you.” She got to her feet, blowing out the candles. Tehi chirped, bouncing on the shelf as she watched them.

She reached out blindly, letting him take hold of her hand again and lead her back. Sitting back down, she placed her hands on her sigil.

“Palm against the drawing,” she murmured, trying not to break the fragile air of intimacy hanging around them. “Think of light and the sigil will answer. Think…a fire. A candle. The sun on your face.”

“You?”

She stiffened, blushing. “I-I guess s-so,” she squeaked, making him chuckle. She watched him place his hand on the sloppily drawn sigil.

She chewed on her lip, trying to hide her giddy smile. His eyes fluttered shut, leaning against her. She leaned back, breathing in and letting it out with the idea of light.

Her sigil folded, and started to glow. She smiled, satisfied, before turning to look at him. His face was set in concentration, the room was quiet, their breathing soft.

Slowly, the sigil folded, glowing brightly. She cheered, the sound startling him into opening his eyes. He paused when he saw the ball of light at his palms.

“I did that?” he asked, eyes growing wide.

She grinned, tackling him in a hug and kissing him fiercely. He laughed against her mouth, cradling her head in his hands. “You did!” she said, glowing brightly.

“What else can you do?” he asked, staring at the two lights. When he looked back at her his excitement was infectious, making her bounce.

“Ice, earth and I once made a gust of spring air appear in the middle of winter! Plants didn’t work out well, but we can work on it! Imagine what we could do!”

“We?”

She blushed at her mistake. “I-If you want to. T-That is.”

“You’d let me help?”

She nodded, biting her lip. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, in her excitement she thought he’d...like to.

But he wouldn’t. Why would he?

He grinned, tilting her head back to look at him. Her thoughts evaporated. “I’d be honoured to help. If you’d have me. That is.”

“Hey I offered don’t get insecure on me now.”

He laughed, kissing her softly, sitting back up with her in his lap. She giggled against his mouth, burying her hands in his hair.

“Okay,” he murmured.

“Okay!”

They stared at one another for a moment before giggling again.

“I did magic,” he murmured, staring at the light floating by her shoulder. “I made that, right?”

“Your magic. I didn’t do anything.”

His grin was quick to creep across his face, as he reached out to hold the light. She cupped hers in her hand, blowing it into his face softly. He sneezed as it exploded in a bunch of tiny lights, floating around his hair like a halo.

Tehi chirped again, chasing a few of the lights.

Smiling, she brushed his hair back and scattered the glitter that sat there.

He blew his into her face, making her giggle as it exploded across her cheeks. “Oh look. More glowing lights to add to your already glowing face,” he teased, brushing her cheeks.

She tilted her head to kiss the pad of his thumb, smiling.

“So what’d ya say? Wanna explore magic with me?”

He tilted her face up, kissing her with such affection it made her heart skip a beat.

There was a softness to his gaze when he pulled away, his brows set in content and his lips upturned in a gentle smile. A tender look settled into his eyes as he kissed the top of her head.

“I’d love to.”

#the arcana #the arcana game #maeve #lucas #maeve x lucas #maevas #my writing #DONT TALK TO ME IM YEARNING #these two are the kinds of people to joke about gettin married before even saying I love you #love and hate that for them #bc I gotta WRITE THIS BS #and then MAEVE #AUGH #calm before the storm lmao #fluff #soft nerds #in love #OKAY IM POSTING THIS BEFORE I OVER THINK THINGS AGAIN

5 notes · View notes

brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

Note

What would the lost boys think if you accidentally say a different mens name like from a rockbands name. While you was having sex with them

Sure thing fang baby, lemme give it a shot! I’m gonna be honest hon, there isn’t anything romantic about this scenario though, this one is gonna be a whole lot of drama. I write them according to what I think would happen based on their personalities. And let’s be realistic here- None of the boys would respond well to this. All of them are only ever going to polyamorous between each other and their s/o’s in a best case scenario. Outsiders involved in any way, shape, or form is seriously frowned upon. You could call to the great artists of the Renaissance, you could call out Eddie frickin Van Halen, it doesn’t matter. Trust me on this.

THANK YOU TO @imlostinsantacarla WHO IS NOT ONLY MY CO-AUTHOR BUT A FELLOW LOST BOYS WRITER, AND AN AMAZING FRIEND! I appreciate all the help you’ve been, dude I love ya like a sister! Seriously guys, check out her blog, she is amazing!

The Lost Boys’ S/O Moans a Rock Star’s Name During Sex

18+ CONTENT WARNING: Contains Offensive Language, Gore, Homicide, Violent Behaviors, Potential Emotional Triggers, Sexual Themes! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

David

Any name that isn't his will infuriate him. All he knows is while he's on top of you, you just said another man's name. There's a split second where the infernos of Hades ignites his entire body aflame with pure unadulterated rage. His eyes spark white hot, it takes every ounce of willpower he has to physically calm himself so he doesn't "accidentally" kill you. It's tempting, nearly impossible to resist the urge to slice you open while he's still inside you. How dare you say anyone else's name.

There’s quite the conflict in his head. He wonders if he should pull out, and leave you there without another word. But instead he chooses to take his revenge. Your mouth won't ever make the mistake of calling to anyone but him ever again, if you’re even lucky enough to be graced with his presence once he’s finished with you. Immediately he would've grabbed you by your throat, tempted to squeeze you until you fainted as he demanded you tell him again who's name you just screamed. It's a terrifying moment, you barely choke out the words before he flips you onto your stomach

"...What was that, kitten? I don’t think I heard those lips right! You're gonna have to say that louder for me."

Make no mistake, the fact that it's the name of a celebrity as you desperately try to claim, means fuck all to him. He will punish the fuck out of you! Everything is drawn out. He'll choke your neck until you can't even moan, just barely teasing when you begin to have tunnel vision. There is no way you'll be satisfied, this is for him! He's not about to give you what you want until you're crying, pleading for him to let you orgasm. You know what he does? Just at the edge of climax covered in scratches and bites, he pulls out and leaves you. Shaken, exhausted, alone, and unsatisfied. Why the hell would he give you the satisfaction of what you want when you called another man's name when you guys were having sex?

David is one of the guys whose ego is going to be busted, and that is a very poor choice to make. He would immediately get dressed. No aftercare, he wants you to feel filthy, dirty. You didn't deserve his love that night. The guys would jump out of his way, you don't want to be in his warpath when he gets like this. As he's tearing through victims he's constantly questioning himself. Why are you thinking of another man when you guys are intimate?! He doesn't let people in, but he let you in, and you fucked it! Obliterating his trust in less than a second.

Expect him to suspect you of adultery. Give him space, because for the next few weeks he won't humor any excuses you give him. How can he be sure you aren't lying?! Maybe it wasn't the lead singer of the band you just said. Maybe it was just some fucker with a similar first name. David's trust in you no longer exists, and his respect is gone too. Afterwards he refuses to get intimate with you. Even hugs are rejected, he doesn't want you touching him- period!

Celebrity or not, don't bother being surprised when that guy winds up dead in their precious Hollywood estate a week later. David is possessive as fuck and he doesn't take betrayal lightly, no matter how big or small. You’d hear it on TV. The rock star found with his wrists and throat slashed, presumed suicide. But you already knew who was responsible. David isn’t even phased when you storm up to him on the boardwalk with a lit cigarette in his mouth. Of course he used mind control to have the bastard stab himself and slash open his throat. He only wishes he could’ve done it himself. He’ll even tell you all the gruesome details, mocking how he greatly suffered because David made him think there were bugs under his skin. David is over 110% petty. In fact, he’ll taunt you about this after. At first it’ll come off cold, passive and indifferent before it spills over into pure aggression. If you dare try to get angry at him he’ll put that to rest real fast, looking you dead in the eyes.

"You’re damn right I killed him. And you know what? His blood on your hands, y/n, not mine. You made one grave fucking mistake, you have no one but yourself to blame. I don't know why you're crying."

He's never gonna let you forget this. The likelihood of him staying is entirely dependent on how long you two were together. That also means how angry he gets will rely on that as well. He's not gonna trust you after either. In his eyes you're both done. But even then, you're still his at the end of the day. He’s not losing to a corpse, you knew the moment you two came together that you were going to be with him- whether you fucking like it or not. If you think you're gonna dare to move on, and leave him miserable in the dust after hurting him so, think again! You’ll be making it up to him for years, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll forgive you.

Dwayne

Low-key freezes at first. It’s almost an otherworldly feeling. He must have heard you wrong! Did he hear you right? No way! Was that someone else's name? It certainly wasn’t his! Dwayne will just full on stop the action, the look on his face just dropping! It’s confusion, fear, rage. There’s no words. You had said another man’s name. Not even said it- you screamed it out. The nervous expression furrowing your face told him all he needed to know. He would immediately get dressed and leave you still sprawled on his bed storming off before he’s tempted to scream at you.

But he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn't say anything, but when you look into his eyes he's pissed! His eyes are fucking GLOWING, his fangs are bared, utterly insulted! This is a rage you’ve never seen on Dwayne. You done fucked up mate. This was an intensely intimate moment with him that you just shattered by the mere mention of someone else. Rock band or not, it’s another man’s name. Period. He knows exactly who Steven Tyler is, he doesn’t give a fuck.

When he pulled out and got off of you it was with such speed you never thought was possible from him because of how big his stature is. But now he’s shaken. For a moment it doesn’t even seem possible. Dwayne is trying to calm down, but if his heart was still beating it would be tearing through his chest. He feels like he might throw up, his stomach is just twisting into hideous knots he never thought possible.

Dwayne is hurt. Utterly crushed. He loves you, or rather, loved you. It’s hard for him to understand what to do with this. He would never dream of doing something this dumb like that to you. Out on the boardwalk he doesn't even see other men or women, like that because he's with you, so for you to do that to him? He's intensely wounded. You said a rock star’s name, but what’s to stop you next time from saying someone else’s name? If you were going to be screaming other people’s names during sex, how far would you go?

When he leaves, he storms off for hours. You won’t see him again until the sun is starting to rise, and even then he won’t speak to you. Well, unless it’s to tell you to get out. Yeah, he wants you gone. Go home. When he’s ready, he’ll talk to you. For now, he doesn’t even look at you. Don’t expect to see him on the boardwalk. In fact, none of the boys are there. If they see you, it's silence and dirty looks. They’ve never seen Dwayne like this. Even when Jasper died he powered through it. This made him utterly depressed, nothing made their friend smile. Paul tried everything, even dancing in drag! Nothing!

Out of everyone, it's gonna be the hardest for Dwayne to move past this. It’s not just a major turn off, it almost feels like a betrayal. Unless you two have been together for a significant amount of time, he’d probably break up with you. If not, then he’d demand space. He isn’t ready to let go, but he’s not ready to just forgive you. He won't be able to look at you the same afterwards. How could you be thinking of another man when his dick is literally inside of you?

Are you unhappy? Are you unsatisfied? Like what's going on? Did you not want to be with him anymore?! He’d be questioning himself, questioning anything. Probably will talk it out with you but it's difficult for him to move past.

It'll take a long time before he can be intimate, if he even can be with you because the trust just isn't there anymore. For Dwayne to be with someone, to let them in, he needs there to be trust in order for him to be intimate. It’s so hard for him to let someone in his life outside of his brothers, especially if you’re human. Now? He doesn’t even know. He may try to patch things up but all he’d hear and see is just you crying for someone else. The damage done might be too much for him to handle. If you guys manage to revive your relationship it’d be an utter miracle because honestly the chances are viciously slim.

Paul

Whatever band member’s name you just called is now officially ruined for Paul forever. By the time you screamed it he was pretty much finished, and mid-climax his heart just drops, utterly falls into his stomach and any horny left inside him is dead.

That man just pulled out so fast you were winded. He won't touch you after, and if you even try to touch him he will slap your hand away! Eventually he’s so pissed he’ll try to get away from you because he's just so furious. You have to understand, he didn’t hear a band name, he hear another man’s name

"Wait what-... What the fuck-?! What the ever loving fuck did you just fucking say?!"

A switch has gone off in his head and he's almost violently shoving his clothes on. If you won’t leave then he will, and he honestly needs to get the fuck of there pronto before he’s tempted to do something messy he might regret!

Paul may come off as this cocky, goofy playboy himself, but he's serious about you! He may have slept around before, but he’s only ever in a relationship, a real, serious relationship, if he truly trusts you. Paul hates being vulnerable, it’s a foreign and risky task that could bite him in the ass. And it just did. All trust is gone and he immediately jumps to the conclusion that you're sleeping with other people. A wave of insecurity takes over. He has a fragile ego, that’s why he tends to be such a needy boyfriend- he always needs to know you love him and that you won’t leave him. Honestly, now he can't look at a picture of the band member you called out during sex anymore, it’s ruined for him now. Their music pisses them off, their face makes him enraged. Even sex is ruined for him for awhile. This boy is so possessive it's unreal, but you've made things all weird now and he can't shake that shit off!

He genuinely cares about you! He knows he's done some dumb shit before! Paul’s behavior can always come across as flirty, even when he’s in his most relaxed state. He’s gotten shit for it before, and he totally understood when you would get ticked off at him for it. But... he never expected that fucking shit to come from you!

Paul will try to patch things up, as best as he can. He doesn't really wanna stay mad at you; it's not his style. However, things are just... different after. He lost that deep, trusting connection with you he once had. It’s just back to square one now, he may even need some space for a few days. Even if you guys manage to pick up the pieces, you have to earn every ounce of his trust back. Part of him sees it as a challenge. Every time you have sex he is determined to make it the most incredible, mind melting, mouth watering fuck he’s ever give in his afterlife! You won’t ever, ever think of another guy again! Unfortunately it makes it hard for him to enjoy it, because not only is he not relaxed, he’s utterly focused on you and there’s still such a massive fear that you’ll do it again.

Part of him desperately wants to murder the guy, and he wouldn't feel bad about it. Not one bit. Gets way more possessive with you than he ever had been in the past, and frankly it’ll take years before he ever learns to relax again. He may see you as untrustworthy whenever you're around other males. His anger is uncontrollable some nights, will probably kick, punch, or throw things. His rage is fucking untamed man! This haunts him, he thought you were starting to lov-... well, now he feels like an idiot.

If you really do stay with him, Paul will be petty. He’s immature, he’s never had this serious of a relationship. So with that, he doesn’t understand how to handle the complex emotions that come with a situation like this. Even though you hurt him, he still cares about you! And that, in a way, makes him even angrier! He should be furious with you, but more than anything he just wants you to want him. Only him! He will remind you of this constantly, even with callous side comments because he can’t let go. If you guys fuck he may start call another women's name. Part of him doesn't give a shit if it makes you uncomfortable or insecure, because you did it to him!

Paul will blast his favorite bands that you didn't ruin for him, even the other guys can’t cheer him up. None of them have ever seen Paul like this. You wouldn’t expect it to hit him this hard, but it does. He was laying into you, he was inside you, and your mind wanted someone else. Your pleasure wasn’t for him! Your desire, your love, your mind was yearning someone else when he was giving you everything he had! He won't look at you, or talk to you for a good few days. Maybe even a week. He won’t let you come to the hotel, on the boardwalk he’ll openly give you the cold shoulder. The other guys might too. How could they be certain it even was a band name? Maybe Paul had just rationalized it as a rock name so he didn’t have to face the fact you called for some random guy. David is wholly convinced you were having an affair, Marko is just pissed you hurt his friend, Dwayne just doesn’t know what to think of it all. Anytime you try to talk to him before he’s ready, he just acts like you don't exist. He’s hurt, and his anger is the only thing keeping him from forbidden tears. Just give him some space man!

Marko

Marko would be the most hurt out of the group. The sound is just sickening. There he was, holding you to him, deep inside when your voice said… the wrong name? The horror makes his stomach drop, he immediately lifts himself off to look at you still lost in pleasure even as he’s stopped. He's so hard to read, you don't even realize you've hurt him until he's pulled himself out and off of you.

He wouldn’t speak, or move for a solid 30 minutes. Just silently sitting on the edge of the bed, if you tried to speak he wouldn’t even turn to look at you. His muscles are rigid, wound tight in knots. He’s imploding from the inside, it’s impossible for him to keep his vampire rage subdued, so in a fury he leaves. Marko is not fucking around right now. You’ve screwed up, majorly. He thinks you’ve been cheating on him, and if there’s something Marko takes very seriously, it’s loyalty. He needs to get to get the fuck away from you, because he’s not sure if he can control himself for much longer, and despite his suspicions he doesn't want to hurt you.

Unlike Paul or Dwayne, when he returns Marko will not talk this out. You honestly shouldn’t have stayed, you should have left when he was gone because he’s still seething when you try to explain yourself. No. You're in the fucking wrong and he's not budging. He will not be hearing any of your bullshit excuses, whatever you throw out doesn’t matter! It's a dumb move he'd expect from Paul, but not from you. Part of him is almost tempted to just try to work things out, but Marko doesn’t trust easily and you’ve not just damaged his trust, you’ve damaged his self esteem. When he heads to the caves and you’re still here he’s had enough.

“Get out…”

“Wh-What?”

Marko flares his fangs at you, blood still staining his mouth. “GET. THE FUCK. OUT.”

You will not be back in that hotel for a long time, if ever again. Marko will avoid you for a while, and I’m talking months here. It’s not just a silent treatment, if he sees you approaching he will start up his motorcycle and ride away- with or without the other guys. He can’t even look at you. If we’re being realistic here, Marko probably won't be able to be intimate with you again. He can’t look past it. All he can see is you calling for someone else, in your heated climax in his arms, utterly exposed, and you desired someone else. He has more self respect for himself than the others, so more than likely he will break up with you!

He’s hurt. It's a cluster of emotions, all of them feel horrid. Rage, pain, sorrow, betrayal. How could you do this? Have you seen him? (like bruhhhhhh where you gonna find a man that rocks a crop top as good as him? where?) He definitely went on a killing spree right after. He needs to release his rage, it’s so pent up he doesn’t know how else to handle it. There would be blood everywhere, there wouldn’t even be any bodies left behind. Everything is utter carnage. Marko would need some serious alone time from everyone, he wouldn't talk to the other boys for at least a few hours.

Paul is furious at you when they find out what you did. You're fucking dead! Marko means so much to them, and you meant so much to Marko! This was his best friend! They let you into their coven, they trusted you with their brother, and you genuinely broke this poor baby’s heart! Hope you don’t have any unfinished business. Say your prayers and make amends now, because you're packing for your funeral buddy. David even hunts down anyone with the name you called and kills them, and he’ll be sure you know. You don’t hurt his friends, you’re lucky that he’s allowing you to draw breath from this miserable planet.

Afterwards, Marko does not go into another relationship for years. Maybe even a decade. It hurts him to go back on the boardwalk. Everything reminds him of you. The ferris wheel where you guys had your first kiss, the food stands he’d take you to, the arcade where he’d kick your butt at Mortal Kombat. Even more so is the sight of you. He doesn’t want to run into you at all. Even the sound of your name, anything to do with you makes him feel down or enraged. He already had trust issues before you, now he wasn’t nearly as willing to be trusting to anyone but his brothers. The next s/o he has, if he ever decides to have another, will definitely be picking up the pieces.

96 notes · View notes

shuttershocky · 5 years

Note

Is assassin just the weakest class? I know they're supposed to be good at, well, assassinating masters but we never really see that (at least not in zero/fsn). Are there any other than king hassan who are worth a damn in a grail war brawl?

The Assassin class doesn't get many chances to shine; often because they're enemies of the protagonist and because no writer ever really has them pulling off a real assassination, their supposed job. They're the weakest among all the classes in terms of raw stats which means they tend to get bodied in a head on brawl, but many assassins are clever, resourceful bastards who favor using their environment or an extremely specialized skillset to make up for the power difference. You can find a few Non-King Hassan examples if you just know where to look.

Let's start with the very first one shown in the series.

Sasaki Kojiro is a very weak heroic spirit, with an F ranked noble phantasm as the final kicker to his poor stats. In the VN however, Kojiro fights Rider, Archer, Saber, Lancer, and even goddamn Berserker into a stalemate (unfortunately with a lot of that being offscreen,) using his extended reach and the highground the stairs provided in order to always be fighting from an advantage. His technical skill is incredible, and even an expert swordsman like Arturia has trouble getting close enough to reach him without getting cut into ribbons. Cu Chulainn mentions offhandedly in UBW that Kojiro is best handled with a ranged attack, as even he's not sure if he could beat Kojiro within his element, due to the near inescapable nature of his otherwise weak noble phantasm. He's only beaten by Gil in the Fate route (as revealed through a flashback in Hollow Ataraxia), Arturia when he was fading from having no mana source (and fighting with a dented sword), and Cursed Arm Hassan who fucking Xenomorphed him.

Speaking of Cursed Arm:

Cursed Arm has a RIDICULOUS fight record. He's beaten Cu, Arturia, and Sir Tristan in duels, the first two by luring them closer to a very hungry Sakura, the third by lowering Tristan's guard and then setting the demon in his arm loose upon the knight. He's the quintessential Assassin; a weak but skilled fighter with a very cunning mind and three aces up his sleeve. He's very well aware that he's outmatched in nearly all his servant brawls, and uses everything from the environment to his opponent's mentality to swing the fight to his advantage. He only really loses battles when caught unprepared, and even then he thinks up a new strategy very quickly. A good example is when Tristan catches him, Hundred Faces, and Serenity by surprise when it turns out he wished for a heart of stone (and thus taking away his biggest weakness). Tristan uses the opportunity to instantly kill Serenity and Hundred Faces, while greviously injuring Cursed Arm. It proves to be his undoing, because the whole time he was gloating over the fallen assassins, Cursed Arm was already switching to his backup plan of the demon in his arm.

Other Assassin servants you may want to check out: Li Shuwen, Shuten Douji, Jack

Then there's the humans who became Assassin servants after their deaths.

Let's not forget who won this fight.

Kiritsugu's time alter reality marble and his magic-destroying origin bullets gave him an insane advantage when fighting against other magi. It's only when he's faced with another brawler like Kirei that he's given a lot of trouble, and even then that one ended with a bullet through Kirei's chest. And arms. And hands. Pretty sure one clipped a leg there.

Upon his return in FGO, Counter Guardian Kiritsugu displays a vastly improved fighting ability. He's able to fight a beast like Arturia head on (wow she has bad fucking luck against assassins) and is only really held off when Arturia is assisted by Chaldea. He's also now empowered by a grail (thanks Iri), which appears to have given his physical and magical abilities a dramatic boost. His Time Alter spell can now slow down time so much it's almost a straight up time stop (insert ZA WARUDO joke here), and he's now able to move so fast he's like, teleporting around and shit. He couldn't do that before.

And of course it's not a Shutters post unless I mention

Shiki Ryougi is a VERY powerful Assassin who still conforms to the "bad stats but quick and with a gimmick" nature that a large portion of the class shares. She's a modern human with combat training, so in a fight with a superpowered demigod she'd be bowled over in the blink of an eye if her gimmick wasn't instant death.

The Mystic Eyes of Death Perception means that even an enemy with an insane power advantage absolutely cannot afford to get careless around her. In Kara No Kyoukai for example, she's greatly overpowered by Fujino Asagami (who also appears in FGO as an Archer servant), and yet uses the shadows to hide and strike from behind until she figures out how to disable Fujino's telekinetic blasts, then crippling Fujino's morale entirely in a terrifying display where she begins nonchalantly cutting down Fujino's attacks while walking very slowly towards her. The intimidation tactic works and Fujino attempts to destroy the entire bridge they're on, which aggravates her already poor condition and ends with her loss.

In FGO, Shiki and Mash battle all sorts of servants within the ghost apartments in the Kara No Kyoukai event, but her most significant win might be over Dantes. Having used most of his power to create the apartments and summon the extremely tough spirits patrolling its bottom floor and rooftop, poor Dantes can only try to run as his ghosts are instantly killed and Shiki closes in. He manages to get to the edge of the roof before Shiki flicks her knife into him, and a very powerful Avenger dies not having given much of a fight at all.

(That's why Dantes feels free to say transphobic shit inside the prison tower. He knows it's not like Shiki's there to beat him. Until you beat him. With your fists.)

These two aren't the only characters turned Assassins either. You may want to check out Gray, who's recently become an Assassin as well!

#fate #long post #fgo #fate grand order

163 notes · View notes

kmomof4 · 5 years

Text

Ch9 Time and Again

I’m sorry this is so late y'all! The day got away from me again. But here we are! I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Ao3 link

All the love and thanks to @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 for all their love and support, besides beta services! I couldn’t have done this without y'all!

Also a huge shoutout and internet hug to the CSSNS discord ladies for all their encouragement and love as I worked on this all summer!

And thank you to all of you who are reading! Your messages thrill me to no end!!! They make all the work, all the blood, sweat, and tears worth it!!! Thank you from the bottom of my heart!!!

Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

The month since they’d gotten back from their trip had been the happiest month of her life. She could see why it was called the honeymoon phase. Sultry looks and secret smiles, stolen kisses in offices and sometimes more, nights spent at one of their places. If she thought that working together would be awkward, she was very pleasantly surprised to find that Killian, mostly, maintained his professionalism when there was work to be done, but as soon as it was, he was her tender and affectionate lover.

Word of their relationship had spread through the office like wildfire when they returned. It was too coincidental for them both to take a weeks vacation time. At the same time. With no contact during the week. Or advance notice. Killian had to tell Liam, and with Liam came Belle. Granny of course already knew. But it was arriving at work on Monday with a still visible hickey on her neck, even covered with makeup, that she faced the full scrutiny, interrogation, and subsequent delight of Ruby and Mary Margaret. She kept trying to tell them that it wasn’t serious at this point, but she couldn’t avoid the knowing looks thrown her way when she came out of Killian’s office with mussed hair and flushed cheeks. She was just thankful that M’s never gave her an ‘I told you so.’

The week after they got back, the meeting with Tiger Lily happened and the firm was hired to handle her advertising. With the new client and Killian being somewhat distracted with the planned opening of the LA office after the new year, she had nearly forgotten about being in the running for the Vice President of Marketing position there. Almost. She was starting to worry a little bit, seeing as they were now well into October and she still hadn’t heard anything. She didn’t want to mention her anxiety to Killian, because it would make her feel like she was taking advantage of their relationship. She simply told herself that if she hadn’t heard anything, then the other candidates probably hadn’t either, and she was simply going to have to wait just like them. Plus, and this was a pretty silly thought, with the complication of the new relationship, she didn’t want to remind him that she may soon be leaving him.

But that begged the question. Would she be leaving him? She had told herself that she was in this for the long haul. She loved him. But she also wanted the promotion. She wanted the paycheck and the recognition that came from her hard work. In LA, she’d essentially be in Killian’s position here. She’d have the freedom to take on new clients and she’d have people working under her. But did she really want that? She had people working under her here too. And Killian was here. She had to admit, staying here with him was the biggest draw to actually turning down the promotion if it was offered to her. She knew she loved him, wanted to stay with him, wanted a future with him, wanted forever with him. He all but said he loved her and wanted a future with her on their trip, but without those three little words, she didn’t want to lay out plans with any certainty one way or the other.

With the busyness at work and these kind of thoughts swirling through her mind, it was no wonder that she was susceptible to the illness that was making its way through the office. Aches and pains and digestive issues at all hours of the day and night were really starting to take their toll on her. After three nights in a row of strange, but normal strange, dreams that woke her up with such nausea, that she’d need to vomit before she could sleep again, Killian insisted she take today off, since they had the long holiday weekend ahead of them. She couldn’t argue too much given how truly rotten she felt, and when Killian kissed her goodbye and left for the office, she gratefully fell right back asleep.

~*~*~

“LA,” Liam Jones announced walking in to his office. Killian turned away from his computer and waved a hand at the conference table as he rose to greet his brother. Sitting down at the table, Liam continued. “It’s time we made a decision, little brother.”

“Younger brother,” he muttered under his breath, rifling through his desk. He pulled out the files of the final three candidates for the position. “Emma Swan, August Booth, and Greg Mendel,” he said, coming over to the table. “All qualified candidates, all with management experience.” He settled himself down in one of the chairs. “I have to say brother, I think Emma is the one we need out there. I have first hand knowledge and experience working with her, and I can personally attest to her work ethic and the quality of the work she puts out. She would be a tremendous asset in that market.”

Liam leveled an assessing look at him. “What about you? What about your relationship?” he asked.

Damn, he thought, I should have known he wouldn’t just take my spill without questioning my motives. Killian scratched behind his ear and wouldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “Well, uh, truthfully brother…”

“Yes,” Liam prompted, without taking his eyes off his sibling.

“Truthfully,” he continued, looking down at his shoes, “I love her Liam,” he vowed with a sigh, finally looking in his brother’s face.

“Then why are you trying to convince me that she’d be of more use in southern California?” Liam’s voice was confused, but with an edge to it that he didn’t often see in him.

“I don’t know how she feels about me,” he nearly whispered. “I mean, not for sure.” He swallowed hard and looked away again. “I know I love her, and I want to be with her. Forever. But she’s never given me any indication that she feels the same way. I’m sure she cares about me, but I don’t know if what she feels for me is enough for her to stay here. I guess I’d just like to see what she’d do. If presented with the choice…” he trailed away.

“Oh, Killian,” Liam sighed, “You just want to know if you’re enough, don’t you?” Killian nodded, shamefaced at his cowardly action. “Have you talked to her about it? At all?” Liam implored him. “No, I don’t expect you have, have you? Killian, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. You have to fight for her. If you want her, you have to fight for her; for your relationship. Let her know exactly what you feel. Exactly what you want. Would you follow her there?” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture with a shake of his head. “Never mind. We can work out the details of the promotion later. Is she worth it?”

Pure, unadulterated shock bloomed over his face. “How can you even ask that, brother?” he thundered, “Of course she is!”

“Well then what are you still sitting there for, boy?” A new voice pierced the tension in the room. “I gave you that ring for a reason! Now go get her!” Granny stood at the door of his office, hands on her hips. Just like when he was growing up and she was about to give him a tongue lashing. His response was automatic.

“Yes, ma’am,” he yelped, nearly jumping out of his seat. “She’s at the house. She hasn’t been sleeping well and feeling pretty crummy. I think she may have the flu. We’ll see you on Tuesday,” he threw over his shoulder as he passed Granny in the doorway.

Granny turned to Liam with an amused smile on her face. “Well, that’s one way to get him moving,” she affectionately groused, “And what about you, young man? Your mother’s ring shouldn’t be gathering dust anymore. It’s high time for it to have a new home.”

Liam jumped up almost as fast as Killian had done, face as red as a tomato, stammering out all his reasons why he hadn’t made that leap for himself. Trying to dart by her, she reached up and cuffed him on the ear before chuckling, she turned to follow him out of the office.

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

“Emma?” he whispered, “Emma? Are you here?” Killian entered the bedroom, hoping to find his love still asleep. His forehead furrowed in confusion when all he found was an empty bed. He turned and headed to the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t find her in there still sick. When he found the bathroom deserted, he moved back to the front of the house wondering if he had missed her somehow. When he came in the garage door, he’d gone straight to his office to get the ring that Granny had given him about a year after Milah had died to give to his intended. Her words, not his. She didn’t want him to lose hope that he might find love again. But after her statement back at the office, he wondered if perhaps she might have seen something even then.

When he didn’t find Emma on the couch, he pulled out his phone to call her when he saw a note on the bar.

Hey Babe,

I remembered that I needed to go pick something up. Then I’m heading home afterward to hopefully get some more sleep. I’ll call you tonight.

Killian was no fool and the note he held in his hand was quite disconcerting. The subtle hint that he wouldn’t be seeing her tonight left him feeling bereft and wondering why she felt the need to go back to her home instead of back here whenever she procured whatever she forgot. And did that mean that she was feeling better? Why didn’t she just call him and ask him to pick up whatever it was on his way home? He decided to call her anyway, just to see if she was feeling better and if she needed anything else. When his call went to voicemail, his mild worry over her location and well being turned into concern and even fear that threatened to eat a hole in his heart until he could see and hold her for himself.

Stuffing the ring in his pocket, he left his house and headed for Swan’s apartment. Praying the entire way that she was okay.

~*~*~

Emma sat on the sofa stunned. Pregnant. She was pregnant. She looked down again at the wand in her hand, just to make sure that there was no trace of a Not in the window of the test. Why didn’t she see it sooner? Why didn’t she even consider the possible consequences of the nights, and days, of passion she shared with Killian on their getaway? Why didn’t she notice before now that her period was late?

Waking up after falling back asleep after Killian left for work, she noticed the date on her phone. October 10. Going back through her calendar, she saw that her period should have arrived around the first of the month. She put her face in her hands. How did I miss this? She was usually so methodical and particular about things. Honeymoon phase, indeed. She was so busy at work and so busy being in love that the usual discipline that characterized her life was completely absent. She should have noticed… hell, she shook her head, she should have thought about birth control. How was she going to tell him?

And she would definitely have to tell him. She needed to go back to his place, she thought with dismay. The note she left him would probably leave him in a tizzy over where she was and if she was okay. He wouldn’t be back home for a few more hours, so she could sit here for a little while longer and try to come to terms with the knowledge herself.

She was jerked out of her thoughts when she heard a key in the lock. Looking around, she quickly shoved the pregnancy test under a throw pillow and lay down on it just as the door opened. Killian came in calling her name. “Emma?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, maybe a little more harsh than she needed to.

“I came to check on you,” he replied. “Your note left me a little concerned with how you’d been feeling lately.” He sat down on the sofa and pulled her feet into his lap.

“But, why are you home early?” she questioned. “I realized that the way I worded that note, probably wasn’t the best and I was planning on coming back before you’d get home.”

“Oh, well,” he replied, scratching behind his ear, “Yes, that. Uh, we need to talk, Emma.” He looked away from her and she saw his cheeks and the tips of his ears bloom a bright red.

“I find that when someone says that,” she nearly whispered, “I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

He turned his face back towards her with a jerk. “What?” he asked, alarmed. “Oh, no, no, no Swan. No. I mean,” he continued, looking away from her again, sheepishly, “I hope, no. But that’s really up to you…” he trailed away, looking at her feet in his lap. He started rubbing nonsense into the arch of her foot that threatened to send her thoughts into totally inappropriate territory given the preface he’d just given her.

“What is it, Killian?” she breathed, before she totally lost herself to his ministrations.

“Uhm, us… and the promotion.” He looked back at her with his heart as well as trepidation in his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Liam, and Granny too for that matter,” he began, shrugging his shoulders and looking down, “made me see something. They made me realize that while I know how I feel about you, and I thought I’d made it pretty clear over the last few weeks, I never told you explicitly.” Emma’s heart thundered in her ears. “And with the decision of the promotion looming, we needed to be on the same page, one way or the other.” Emma nodded, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. Was it possible?

“Liam always says that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. So I am here today to fight for you, Emma. Fight for us.” He got up off the sofa and sank down on his knees before her. His blazing blue eyes delved deep into hers. “I love you, Emma. I have for a long time. And there is nothing I want more than for you to stay right here. With me, with your family and friends. If your heart is set on this promotion, then I hope that you would allow me to come with you. Because if there is one thing I want you to know Emma,” he took her hand in his, “it’s that I’ll always, always be by your side. If you’ll have me. Emma Swan,” he reached in his pocket and pulled out a very familiar ring. Emma let out a gasping sob. “Will you make me the happiest and most blessed man alive and consent to be my wife?”

She was nodding and laughing through her tears before he even finished asking. Leaning over to him, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him as if there was no tomorrow. Drawing him up to the sofa with her, he hovered over her, never releasing her lips. Finally parting, he wedged himself between her and the back of the sofa, drawing her into his arms. Lifting her left hand to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss to the knuckles before he opened his other hand that held the ring. She couldn’t hold back her gasp.

“That’s the same ring from the dream, isn’t it?” she wondered, stunned.

“Yes,” he affirmed, “it is. If I remember correctly, in the dream I had it commissioned?” It was more of a question than a statement, as evidenced by the shrug of his shoulders. “I think so anyway. But in truth, this ring was Granny’s. Her wedding ring. When my parents passed, she took it off. My mother’s wedding ring had survived the crash, and so she eventually planned to give it to Liam for his bride and she planned to give me hers. I obviously didn’t know about it when I proposed to and married Milah. About a year or so after I lost her, Granny gave it to me telling me not to lose hope that I’d find love again. But something she said today makes me wonder if she didn’t know something even then. You hadn’t been working here long, but it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she knew that you’d caught my eye. She’s a sly one for sure.”

She smiled gently at him. “What did she say?” she asked.

“She said, ‘I gave you that ring for a reason. Now go get her!’” He chuckled and raised her hand to put the ring on her finger. But before he could, she drew her hand away.

He looked at her in confusion. “What is it, Swan?” he inquired.

Now it was her turn to be nervous. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and couldn’t look at him. What if this changed things? What if he decided he didn’t want the baby? Didn’t want her? But he just asked her to marry him. That usually results in children, right? So he can’t be entirely opposed to the idea, right? Maybe just not quite this soon. She took a deep breath and looked at him. Reaching under the pillow she was laying on, she pulled out the positive pregnancy test. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at what she held in her hand. After a moment or two, those same eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline as he looked back at her, a look of hopeful joy in his eyes. “Emma?” he questioned, “Truly?” The excited shock on his face was comical, but she was able to hold back her laughter with the smile that broke over her face. A laugh burst from his throat as he took her face in his hands and crushed his mouth to hers. Her laugh broke free as he peppered kisses to her cheeks, eyelids, and nose.

“I take it that means you’re excited?” she asked.

“Oh Emma,” he breathed, “Shall I spell it out for you? Yes, I’m excited. You glorious, wondrous woman. What have I done to deserve you? Deserve this happiness?” His voice and tone lowered as he looked into her eyes again. “You’ve agreed to marry me, we’re having a baby, what more could I ask for?” He lowered his lips to hers again, kissing her thoroughly. When they broke apart, he asked, his eyes twinkling, “Now may I put the ring on your finger?”

She laughed again. “I had to be sure you’d still want to after my news,” she replied, holding her hand out to him. He pushed the ring onto her finger where it gleamed in the afternoon sun. “I love you too Killian,” she avowed, arresting him with her gaze, “And there is nothing I want more than to stay here, with you, with my family and friends. You’re everything I could ever want. Everything I could ever need.”

“As are you, my love,” he agreed, lowering his mouth to hers.

After that there were only sighs of happiness and moans of pleasure as they whispered words of love and longing and promise before their passion swept them away and deposited them on the shores of heaven on earth.

“Always and forever, Swan,” he murmured into her ear before sleep claimed them. “Always and forever.”

#Time and Again #ch9 #krystal writes #art by krystal

36 notes · View notes

trading-strategies-news · 4 years

Text

Seeking Alpha: 3 Fortress REITs To Own During The New Era Of Physical Distancing.

https://seekingalpha.com/article/4339929-3-fortress-reits-to-own-during-new-era-of-physical-distancing?utm_source=news.google.com&utm_medium=referral

Consider investing in only the highest-quality companies with the best balance sheets and great management teams.

It’s a strategy that has worked very well for Warren Buffett and his followers over the years.

We believe that our three A-rated picks will eventually generate sound price appreciation as their underlying business models are all built to last.

There’s a line from the classic film Princess Bride that goes, “Goodbye, boys! Have fun storming the castle!”

It’s a satirical line from a satirical movie, with one character turning to another to ask, “Think it’ll work?”

The response is, “It would take a miracle.”

If you’ve seen the movie even just once, you can probably easily envision the whole scene, including the joviality at the start of the very brief conversation and the sardonic certainty at the end. (If you haven’t, you’ll just have to take my word for it.)

But the truth is that castle storming back in the day was supposed to be a long shot. Only extreme levels of planning, plotting, and resources could pull them down.

They were built to be fortresses, strategically designed with features such as:

Arrowslits – Holes up high in the structures from which archers could let their weapons loose while remaining largely protected.

Keeps – Towers that rose as high up as possible to give great views of whatever might be coming.

Moats – Water-filled trenches that armies couldn’t easily cross unless a bridge was procured.

Portcullises – Heavy metal gates to protect main entrances.

Barbicans – Fortresses outside of the fortress designed to be the first line of defense.

Really, that last word, “defense,” sums up their strategy. The lords who commissioned them took every precaution possible to protected what was theirs.

Source

A Model Worth Following

Dr. Dan Spencer, author of The Castle at War in Medieval England and Wales, writes on Military History Now:

“In their day, medieval castles represented the state-of-art in military engineering.

“Erected by kinds and feudal lords during what we now commonly call the Middle Ages, these foreboding strongholds… were defensive in nature, being skillfully designed to resist attacks by armies many times larger than those manning its parapets.

“But of course, a castle was only ever as strong as its weakest point. As such, great efforts were made by builders to ensure that their castles could withstand an enemy onslaught.”

Some of them did a phenomenal job of it too, as evidenced by their still-standing structures today. Google “castles to visit today” or some such thing, and you’ll no doubt find plenty of places around the world.

Of course, considering how land invasions aren’t nearly as popular as they used to be, castles are admittedly a little passé. They’re great to bring in tourist revenue, it’s true. But they don’t present the same awe-inspiring military deterrent now that planes and bombs and battleships exist.

Even so, that doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate the concept they were built on. Warren Buffett certainly does, has, and no doubt will. He’s long-since been promising a “financial fortress” for investors in his Berkshire Hathaway(NYSE:BRK.A) (NYSE:BRK.B) fund.

By that, he means he invests in only the highest-quality companies with the best balance sheets and great management teams.

It’s a strategy that’s worked very well for him and his followers over the years. And it’s one I’ve seen significant success in as well.

Source

The Value of a Properly Fortified Fortress

For the record, I know about the news story currently circulating on most major financial sites: “Warren Buffett’s ‘Fortress’ Is Breached by Coronavirus-Related Shutdowns.” It starts out:

“Even as market watchers await Warren Buffett’s splashy move to seize on fallout from the current crisis, his Berkshire Hathaway Inc. hasn’t been spared by the pandemic.

“Coronavirus-related shutdowns across the U.S. have hit Berkshire units from See’s Candies and a shoemaker to industrial behemoth Precision Castparts. That could leave a few scars on the conglomerate…

“Buffett’s business partner, Charlie Munger, put it bluntly. ‘We’ve got a few businesses, small ones, we won’t reopen when this is over,’ he told The Wall Street Journal without naming the units.”

But here’s the thing. Fortresses don’t promise they’ll never get cracked by a battering ram or chipped by flying projectiles. As the article above – and every single castle throughout history – indicates, damage can be done.

For that matter, they don’t even promise they can withstand absolutely everything that comes their way. Nothing can, as proven by Krak des Chevaliers, an epic, all-but-invincible Crusader castle in Syria, that was surrendered, not by force, but by siege and, perhaps, a forged letter.

They only have the best chances around, which is why Bloomberg acknowledged:

“To be sure, Buffett’s promise that Berkshire will ‘forever remain a financial fortress’ hasn’t been broken yet. The company reported a $128 billion cash pile at the end of last year, as well as a stock portfolio valued at more than $248 billion.

Besides, “Some of its biggest revenue generators remain on solid footing.” And its similarly solid footing we’re looking for today through our own “revenue generators” in the REIT sector.

The companies below have plenty of cash on hand with significant chances of making plenty more cash in the future.

Here’s what they have to say for themselves.

Source: iREIT

3 A-Rated REITs We’re Buying Today

One of the good things about being a financial writer in the REIT sector is that we have tons or research at our disposal. This includes data from Seeking Alpha, Sentieo, FAST Graphs, and the wide world of Google. It’s very useful to have all of this information because it provides us with the most actionable intelligence to support our buy-hold-sell recommendations.

Given the latest COVID-19 risks we have carefully evaluated our entire REIT spectrum in order to model the impacts related to rent collection and future earnings. Accordingly, there are a number of REITs that we have downgraded to either Speculative, Hold, or Sell as we anticipate future dividend cuts and or suspensions.

We’re all living in unprecedented times and while strong balance sheets are essential to any business operation, we consider cash flow the primary test as it relates to dividend sustainability. That being said, we decided to focus the content today on three A-rated REITs that support our Buy or Strong Buy recommendation.

These three REITs appear on our list because we believe their dividend is safe and that the shares can be purchased at a reasonable margin of safety. We recently downgraded Simon Property (SPG) to a Spec Buy, and we plan to address this name in a detailed article later this week.

Our first pick on the list is Public Storage (PSA), a self-storage REIT whose capital structure is nearly bulletproof because it utilizes perpetual preferreds instead of debt (no refinancing risk). Its business model is one that is consistent through business cycles and its management has shown themselves to be immensely talented.

PSA is unique in the REIT industry (actually, virtually unique compared to any company) in that its capital structure is overwhelmingly comprised of common and preferred stock - debt is a measly 3%. PSA is the largest REIT issuer of preferred stock and has mastered its use in the capital structure. It’s this use that has created the fortress known as their balance sheet.

Income investors often recognize the security and performance available with the purchase of PSA, but are often turned away by the low dividend yield. However, thanks to the Covid-19 inspired pullback, PSA’s dividend yield is now 4.3% with a P/FFO handle of 17.4x.

To be clear, we don’t view PSA as a Strong Buy today, but we’re glad we included shares in the Cash Is King portfolio (just a Buy). We like the business model, and while the summer months could be challenging with lease-up (due to stay at home rules) we have a high degree of certainty that customers will continue to use storage in the weeks and months ahead.

Source: FAST Graphs

Our next fortress pick is Realty Income (O), the monthly paying bellwether that has become the staple for many retirees and income-oriented investors.

The primary reason that O has sold off (-31.9% total return year-to-date) is because of the company’s exposure to theaters (6.7%) and gyms (7%). Given the elevated risk of tenant defaults, specifically bankruptcies, it’s likely that certain stores may close, and Realty Income’s payout ratio could narrow.

We believe that Realty Income’s payout ratio – which is in the low 80s now – is adequate to handle the short-term shock to earnings. Essentially, we’d agree with the CEO’s optimism when he said that, “We feel very good about our liquidity situation: our ability to continue to pay the dividend and grow the dividend.”

Importantly, we also feel comfortable that Realty Income has an impressive A-rated balance sheet. The company is the only net lease REIT with an A-rated balance sheet and has protected its fortress balance sheet by strengthening its liquidity position by drawing down $1.2 billion (bringing the cash balance to $1.25 billion). There’s around $1.2 billion of capacity remaining on the $3 billion revolver (with an accordion of another $1 billion).

It’s important to recognize that Realty Income has around 50% of investment-grade rated tenants and we believe this investment policy (focusing on quality) will pay dividends during the next few months. Realty Income also has the least exposure to private equity-backed tenants and this provides us with a higher degree of confidence that Realty Income’s tenant base will keep paying rent.

Furthermore, and I cannot emphasize this enough, Realty Income is the most diversified net lease REIT and while certain sectors (like theaters and gyms) could put temporary pressure on the payout ratio, Realty Income is in the best position (of all net lease REITs) to weather the storms.

Shares are now yielding 5.7% with a P/FFO multiple of 14.8x (-30% below normal range). We are maintaining a Strong Buy at this time.

Source: FAST Graphs

Our final fortress pick is Federal Realty (FRT), one of just two shopping center REITs on our buy list.

FRT’s balance sheet is by far one of the strongest in its industry, as illustrated by its (1) net debt to earnings before interest, taxes, depreciation, and amortization (EBITDA) of 5.5x, its fixed-charge coverage ratio of 4.2x, its weighted-average debt maturity of ~10 years (near the top of the sector) and its weighted average interest rate of 3.8%.

FRT ended 2019 with over $127 million in cash on its balance sheet – up from just $64 million a year ago and management said it has no outstanding balance on a recently expanded $1 billion credit facility.

While FRT is known for its retail exposure, it's important to remind readers that the company has diversified its business model to include a variety of profit centers including:

Residential – 11%

Office – 9%

Fitness, health, beauty – 9%

Discount Apparel – 9%

Full-service restaurant – 9%

Full-service apparel – 8%

Grocery – 7%

1 note · View note

fourthingsandawizard · 5 years

Text

Firewhisky

Dan is fast asleep at Hogwarts when he gets a 2am call from a Firewhisky-fueled Phil in the club

Rating: Gen

Words: 1752

Relationship: Dan Howell & Phil Lester; friendship; phan if you squint

Tags: wizard au; Hogwarts au; Youtuber Dan; Youtuber Phil; muggleborn Dan; pureblood Phil; Hufflepuff Dan; Hogwarts grad Phil

Read on ao3

a/n: Written for @phandomficfests 2019 Bingo to fill the prompts birthday, drug/alcohol use, and writer’s choice (which I made magic au)

**This oneshot takes place in the Dan and Phil Hogwarts/Modern Day Wizards AU established in my chaptered fic Galaxies and Greenhouses, which should probably be read before reading this fic, but isn't absolutely necessary.

(If you don't want to read the chaptered fic first, main takeaway info needed for this fic: yes, Dan is a Hufflepuff in my au, fight me; also, Phil and PJ worked together to make a wizard smartphone equivalent out of a magic mirror, aka SmartMirror, that bypasses the Hogwarts ban on Muggle tech)

Dan groaned as his eyes slowly blinked open. He breathed sharply through his nose and stretched his long limbs across all four corners of his bed, resulting in a satisfying pop in one of his joints.

As he let his eyes begin to drift shut again, he noticed that he wasn’t hearing his housemates bustling around the room and starting their days while he, as usual, slept the morning away with his bed curtains drawn tight. Curious, he reached over and parted the heavy yellow drapes, only to be met with moonlight streaming into the dormitory and the soft snores of the other seventh year Hufflepuff boys.

Dan let the curtains fall together again and collapsed back against his pillow, wondering what could have possibly woken him up in the middle of the night, when suddenly he received his answer: a faint buzzing was coming from somewhere underneath his duvet.

Fumbling through his bed sheets in the darkness, Dan’s fingers finally closed around his SmartMirror. Bringing it closer to his face, he was nearly blinded by the screen, which displayed the unflattering closeup that Dan had set as Phil’s contact photo, along with the time and date: nearly two in the morning on the 30th of January.

Dan somehow managed to groggily accept the call, bringing the device up to his ear. “‘lo?”

“DAN!”

Dan jerked away from the sudden onslaught of sound, both from Phil’s unexpectedly loud greeting and the cacophony of background noises and music behind him.

“DAN? DAN, ARE YOU STILL THERE?” Wincing, Dan brought the SmartMirror closer again. “Yeah, Phil, I’m here,” he half whispered, “but why the hell are you calling this late?”

“DAN, IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! TELL ME HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAN! I THINK IT’S THE LAW!”

Dan rolled his eyes, chuckling fondly. “Yeah, yeah, happy birthday, dork.”

“WHAT?”

“Happy birthday!”

“DAN? ARE YOU THERE?”

“I SAID HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Merlin’s sake!” Dan finally had to almost yell for Phil to hear over the pounding music behind him.

“Oi! Howell!”

Dan’s bed curtains were suddenly ripped open, revealing a bed-headed and irritated housemate.

“Some of us are trying to sleep here, yeah? Slughorn has that nasty N.E.W.T. practice exam for us tomorrow, remember?”

Dan felt the tell-tale rosy patch on his cheek flush red and was thankful for the darkness of the dormitory. “Er, sorry, I’ll just…” He jerked his head towards the door, grabbing his wand and slipping out of bed.

Once he was safely in the quiet of the empty common room, he brought the phone back up to his ear, settling into one of the plush yellow armchairs facing the dwindling fire in the hearth.

“Phil? You still there?”

“Why, hello there, Daniel. Fancy meeting you here at this late hour, eh?”

Dan frowned at the familiar Northern voice, although it wasn’t the one he had been expecting.

“Chris? Where’s Phil?”

“Ah, well, our no-longer young Mr. Philip is currently finishing off what I believe is his third birthday Firewhisky shot of the evening and asked me to hold his phone,” Chris answered with a mischievous laugh. “So… How’s Hogwarts?”

“Three Firewhiskies? Shit, Chris, where the hell are you guys?”

“Lighten up, Daniel! Don’t get your wand in a knot, he’s fine. PJ and I just took him out for his birthday to that new magic club in London, Smoke and Mirrors. Perfect Prefect Lester is actually letting loose for once, it’s kind of wild—”

Chris was suddenly cut off and Dan heard nothing but the thumping bass of the music and the sound of someone fumbling with the SmartMirror, accidentally mashing several buttons.

“DAN! I’M BACK! CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Dan winced at Phil’s unexpectedly loud return, leaning away from his phone slightly. “Trust me, bub, hearing you is not an issue right now.”

“WHAT? DAN, HANG ON A SEC, I’M GOING OUTSIDE SO I CAN HEAR YOU BETTER!” Phil shouted into the receiver. “PJ, I’LL BE RIGHT BACK!”

Dan idly flicked his wand against his knee, shooting out small sparks and reigniting the fire in front of him as he half listened to the sound of Phil making his way through the crowded club, mumbling apologizes to seemingly everyone he passed.

As he heard the door swing shut behind Phil, the music that had been blasting only moments before completely vanished; presumably there was some kind of noise dampening spell around the club to avoid suspicious Muggles.

“Okay, that’s better,” Phil said, finally at a semi normal volume.

“Yeah, much better,” Dan agreed, pulling both of his long legs up into the chair to get more comfortable. “Aren’t you freezing standing outside, though?” Dan glanced out the window where he could see a thin layer of snow blanketing the castle grounds. Phil may have been further south than Dan at the moment, but it was still January, even in London.

“Nah, I’m practically immune to cold, I’m so Northern,” Phil replied, and Dan could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, I reckon I’ve probably had about half a bottle of Firewhisky tonight, I’m basically a dragon at this point.”

“Phil!”

At Dan’s scandalized exclamation, Phil let out a loud shriek, which came off much more pterodactyl than dragon, before dissolving into giggles on the other end of the line.

“You okay, there, bud?”

“Dan?”

“Yes, Phil?”

“I think I might be a little drunk,” Phil stage whispered into the phone, leaving Dan rolling his eyes fondly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” he replied, making Phil snicker in return. “It sounds like you’re having a pretty good birthday, though.”

Phil hummed in response, and Dan could easily imagine the shrug that would have accompanied it. “‘s alright, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’d be a lot better if you were here.”

Dan felt himself deflate a bit. He pulled his legs to his chest and hooked his chin over his knee.

“You remember my seventeenth when we snuck up to the Astronomy Tower,” Phil continued, filling Dan’s silence, “and we pretty much ate our weight in Honeydukes?”

“‘course I do,” Dan finally managed to breathe out, “McGonagall was pissed when she caught us out of bed that late.”

Phil snorted. “I think it was worth a couple detentions, though, to get to spend my birthday with my best friend for the first time.”

Dan felt a wetness suddenly pricking at his eyes. “Shit, Phil. I really miss you… Like, I know I just saw you last month during Christmas break, but I mean… Why’d you have to be a whole year older and graduate before me, again?”

“Hey, I offered to flunk my N.E.W.T.s and stay another year.” Phil chuckled, voice cracking a bit.

“Yeah, I’m sure Kath would have just loved that,” Dan said as he rubbed at his eyes. “And speaking of… What’s she gonna say when you stumble home drunk off your tits tonight?”

“I’m, uh… I’m not going home tonight. I’m staying with PJ and Chris in Brighton for a couple days. I kinda got in an argument with my dad and I’m trying to avoid him for a bit.”

“I mean, I can definitely relate.” Dan laughed, a little darker than he intended. “But you and your dad usually get along mostly fine, what happened?”

He heard Phil sigh deeply. “He bought me, like, proper business-person robes for my birthday.”

“What? Why?”

“Dunno, I guess he thinks it’s time for me to ‘be a man’ and ‘get a proper job’ and all that other adulty stuff.”

“Damn,” Dan replied, twirling his wand between his fingers absentmindedly. “And is that what you want?”

“I dunno. Probably not,” Phil admitted quietly. “I don’t really know what I want to do with my life, I just know I really like making videos, especially with you.”

“And I’m guessing your dad doesn’t really get that?”

“Not at all. Try explaining Youtube to a wizard who’s never even touched a computer.”

“Mine doesn’t really get it, either. I think maybe it’s less a wizard versus Muggle thing and more just a dad thing.”

Phil was silent for a long moment, leading Dan to pull the phone away just to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

“Hey, Dan? Promise me something?”

“Yeah?”

Phil took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Promise me that we’re still gonna move in together next year like we talked about?”

‘“Course we will,” Dan answered with no hesitation. “We’ll probably have a pretty crappy apartment ‘cause it’s all we can afford, but it’s gonna be awesome.”

“And we’ll make videos together?”

“I mean, duh, all the time.” Dan couldn’t wipe the smile from his face if he tried. “Damn, our neighbors are gonna hate us, aren’t they?”

He got a classic Phil laugh in return, and he felt better knowing he put that goofy tongue-biting smile back on the older boy’s face. “That’s fine by me. Dan and Phil versus the world.”

“Always,” Dan answered as he glanced around the empty common room, desperately wishing his best friend wasn’t so far away, and felt tears building up again. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about how being here without you guys this year sucks major ass.”

“How would you know?”

“What?”

Phil snickered. “How would you know that it sucks ass unless you’ve—”

“Damn!” Dan swiftly interrupted before Phil could finish that thought. “Proper pissed Phil is a cheeky little shit, isn’t he?”

“No,” Phil answered around a yawn, “he’s a sleepy little shit. I kinda wanna just lay down right here on the pavement and take a nap...”

“Phil! You’re not sleeping on some random London street at two in the morning, you’ll get picked up by the Muggle police,” Dan laughed, shifting his phone to the other ear. “Go back inside and find Chris and PJ.”

“‘kay.”

“And make sure at least one of you sobers up a little before anyone tries to Apparate home,” Dan instructed. “I doubt you want to spend the rest of your birthday at St. Mungo’s because you splinched yourself and left an arm behind in the club or something.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll be careful,” Phil assured him as he opened the door to the club and the music suddenly blared into the phone again.

“Text me tomorrow whenever your hangover goes away,” Dan called over the noise.

Phil groaned in reply. “Ugh, don’t remind me of the consequences of my actions! It’s my birthday!”

Dan felt himself grinning like an idiot. “Happy birthday, you dork.”

#phandom fic fest #phandom fic fest bingo #pff bingo 2019 #galaxies and greenhouses #phan wizard au #phan hogwarts au #phanfic #phanfiction #my fic #my phanfiction

9 notes · View notes

leeholtwrites · 4 years

Text

Red Queen: Chapter 15

So, last time I found a worthy target for some anger in an otherwise “meh” YA book. I mean, this book is really, really cliche on a level that even I can barely forgive, and I recognized that tropes are important to defining genre, but I hadn’t found anything yet that made me angry. Then Dickbag happened.

If you have a better nickname for him, please comment below.

Horse is startled awake by her servant, Walsh. I’m not sure I remember mentioning her before, but she has a servant who is a Red. And startled is an understatement. Horse almost downright Tazers the poor woman in shock.

Horse gets out of bed, trying to apologize to the woman because she’s not completely the worst, and Walsh just mouths “Rise, Red as the dawn” to her (because of course she does) before shoving a teacup of water into Horse’s hand.

“And at the bottom of the cup, a piece of paper bleeds ink. The ink swirls as I read the message, the water leeching it away, erasing any trace, until there’s nothing but cloudy, gray liquid and a blank curl of paper. No evidence of my first act of rebellion.”

Apparently the paper said “Midnight,” but that isn’t my gripe. She knows there are cameras in the room. Isn’t it going to be suspicious that she just stares into her teacup before setting it aside? Also, the thing with prisoners, especially if you have people serving her that might sympathize with her, usually trays and food are searched. So either the writer wants us to know that the king isn’t having her service checked for anything from the political dissidents running around that he knows about just in case they might contact her, or the writer is just not smart enough to think about that.

If you couldn’t tell by now, there are a lot of similar YA set ups involving political intrigue, but the writers don’t really think things through or do their research enough to make it convincing. In this situation, someone would need to dispose of the ink-paper trick in the room filled with cameras. So unless that ink is drinkable, and someone (Horse) drinks it, what is Walsh going to do with it?

Maybe I’m overthinking this. Whatever. It just feels stupid.

There is a new schedule on Horse’s nightstand. Horse now has training just as Cal said she would. She’s impressed that he worked so fast. As Lucas walks her to training (I’m assuming because the time line is awful at the moment) he warns her to be careful because the trainers are brutal. Then we find out he entered the army at nine.

Okay, what is with YA and child soldiers. Is that just another shortcut for Current Administration Bad? HUNGER GAMES did it to make a point, but here its just another thing for the writer - fuck it - Aveyard to be all “War is bad, m’kay?”

“But Lucas shrugs like it’s nothing. ‘The front is the best place for training. Even the princes were trained at the front, for a time.’

“‘But you’re here now,’ I say.... ‘You’re not a soldier anymore.’

For the first time, Lucas’s dry smile disappears completely. ‘It wears on you.’... ‘Men aren’t meant to be at war for long.’

‘And what about Reds?’ I hear myself ask.... ‘Can they stand war better than Silvers?’“

I’m just going to lay down right here and try not to start shredding this book. First, you train people before you send them to battle so they know what they’re doing. Second, how old are the princes? When did they go? They’re not even the age of a modern US enlistee (18). Like, what the fuck? Also, why would you stick the goddamn crown princes on the front line? Are you trying to destroy the royal lineage?

I have been reduced to rhetorical questions.

And then Lucas answers:

“... looking a little uncomfortable. ‘That’s the way the world works. Reds serve, Reds work, Reds fight. It’s what they’re good at. It’s what they’re meant to do.’”

Nice on the casual classism.

“Not everyone is special.”

I wish this book understood that more, what with 3 guys lusting after our lovely protag.

Horse gets mad at him, but mostly just brushes him off. Lucas notices her feelings and warns her that he if he doesn’t have the luxury of asking questions, than neither does she, even going so far as to use her new name.

Lucas will not ask questions. Despite his black eyes, his Silver blood, his Samos family, he will not pull at the thread that could unravel my existence.

This confuses me. Her italics thought bubble at the beginning feels more like a criticism than Horse’s realization that Lucas won’t do anything that will hurt her, even going so far as to try to help her understand how silvers Silvers think and how controlling their upper echelons are. I mean, its pretty clumsily done, but I get what Aveyard was going for. The italics double don’t work because this book is in first person. We’re in Horse’s head. We don’t need thought bubbles. The whole thing is a thought bubble!

Second, “Silver blood” or “silver blood?” I feel like it should be the second. Just saying.

Lucas also continues to sympathetic, making all the woman hate even more pronounced.

Le sigh.

At training, Horse is handed what sounds like a Lycra jumpsuit before entering what sounds like my university gym. Multi-storied, lots of equipment, dozens of baby-faced young adults in better shape than I am. Of course, all those college students are more mature than most of the people in this book, and mind their own damn business.

Unlike Polarity Princess.

The moment Horse walks in, PP drops what she’s doing to mock her. She is of course joined by her mean girl club in the process. We’re spared because Horse ignores her and immediately goes to find Maven. They talk a little, mostly about what their life will entail after they leave and the ball before they leave - which leads to dancing and how Silver girls are the worst.

Maven then asks how her visit with her family went. She tells him it was difficult because she found out one of her brothers was executed before they were all released. Mavey places his hand on hers, apologizes, and says he that he’s sure he didn’t deserve it because the guy Silvers aren’t shit heads.

Then for a moment Horse thinks he might be able to read minds, which leads to this little detail:

Few silvers Silvers inherit abilities from their mothers, and no one had more than one ability.

The low key misogyny is killing me.

And if Maven turns out to be the evil prince, he’s totally going to have his moms abilities. Watch. Or at least that’s what I would do.

Hey, I never said I wrote capital L literature.

We get some more description about powers. Shades can bend light around themselves for invisibility. Windweaver says exactly what you think it does, and that is probably the least lame power name so far, while also not belonging at all. Then you have eyes, which have limited precognition. You know, they can see the next 5 seconds or something. If I remember right (and my Teen Titan’s knowledge is rusty) Rose Wilson has that ability. I’m still confused what a silk is. They still sounds like a D&D Rogue. Or a hunska from Red Sister. (Go read that instead. It’s written by a dude and has 100% less misogyny and a 99% female cast.)

A soft voice orders them into a line, followed by an old man with Cal and a telekinetic boy. I refuse to call them “telkies.” It sounds like something I would put on a baby’s butt for diaper rash. The old man is her trainer, and apparently used to oversee executions. Turns out this was because he’s a null - he nullifies powers, or turns them off as the book puts it.

He can reduce a Silver to what they hate most: a Red. He can turn their abilities off. He can make them normal.

All that wealth and privilege, but removing their powers can make them normal. If only it were that simple. It’s almost like this book doesn’t understand power structures at all.

They begin to run laps. Horse is happy it’s something she recognizes until it isn’t when a piece of wall swings out and slams her in the stomach. She’s startled, but manages to keep up. And before you think this is some cool tech, the telekinetic controls the pieces.

Their powers return, and a gun barrel without the actual gun part rises from the floor.

Only the telky’s power makes it move, not some greater, strange technology. The abilities are all they have.

I thought they were defined by having power and Reds having tech. Why is this a new revelation to you? Unless this is book treating the reader like an idiot again.

Horse is called forward for target practice first, and again we hear about how special she is because she can create electricity despite bio-electricity being a thing. She misses the first target but hits the second. PP is a bitch who won’t clap. The instructor moves onto the next instead of patting her on the back. I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a bad thing.

The work out calls wore her out, but she’s still happy for it. Happier for the quietness of Julian’s class, even though the moving time means she’s closer to her midnight meet up. When she arrives, he has book labeled with years. Turns out they’re death records for the war. She knows her executed brother probably isn’t in them, and makes the lamp flick on an off in her distress. Julian asks her why, and she says its the new schedule. He says she did fine today, she gets cranky about him asking to be there, and he uses her power on her to calm her down.

Horse is upset he does this, and he explains he’s the last Singer. They can control people as long as they hear them. (Found the Bards.) Julian launches into how his sister married the king for love, not by Queenstrial, and how they could talk their way to the throne, but didn’t because they’re nice.

I don’t honesty hate this, but there are so many toxic women in this book that we see on a regular basis that it makes me sad that the one that sounds non-toxic is dead.

Horse relates to Julian, mentioning Shade and how he was executed. Julian tells her that they “removed” his sister too and will do it to anyone that gets in the way. He warns her that over-throwing them would take too much planning and luck, and to not get over her head. She knows that she’s already in deep, but doesn’t tell him this.

I actually kind of liked this scene because Horse behaves like a person. Even Julian just comes across as sad and lonely. I just wish that Julian was a woman so Horse could have a relationship with the same sex that wasn’t pure hate. We don’t see her family enough to matter. I think that’s one of the things that bugs me about this book the most. Most of the women are bad, and most of the men are good. Why? Just... why?

Next time, Horse has her midnight meeting.

#reader ramble #book review #chapter by chapter #red queen #victoria aveyard #mare barrow #reds and silvers #ya #fantasy #super powers #mareena titanos #her we go again #i'm going to finish it

3 notes · View notes

thegizka · 5 years

Text

Moving On (fic)

When Dick moves back to Gotham after the Teen Titans disband, he has difficulty adjusting to working under Batman’s direction. Luckily he has friends who are willing to listen and help him figure out a solution (at least temporarily).

(I imagined this happening in a timeline where Dick has become Nightwing (since the New Teen Titans have disbanded) but before Jason Todd has become the new Robin.)

Written for Writer’s Month 2019 Day 4: Road Trip.

Note: I do not own these characters.

Read it on Ao3.

“It’s just so frustrating!” Dick ranted, stomping across the roof of the Gotham City Concert Hall. “I think I had more freedom as an unstable twelve-year-old than I do now. It’s like he needs to keep an eye on me 24/7. It’s stifling!”

“Maybe he’s just trying to keep you safe,” Donna suggested, sticking a couple of fries in her mouth and pretending her friend’s crisis wasn’t her evening’s entertainment.

“But I don’t need a babysitter anymore. I’m not a kid! And I might not have as much experience at this night job, but I’m pretty sure my track record as Robin and with the Titans deserves a higher vote of confidence.”

“I’m sure he knows this.”

“Then why isn’t he letting me work independently anymore?”

“SorryI’mlate!” A red and yellow blur materialized into Wally West. He pulled off the mask portion of his suit and took a seat next to Donna. “I got distracted by a car chase in Detroit. What am I missing?”

“Batman’s smothering Dick and he’s not happy,” Donna explained, passing him his own extra large order of fries.

“Ah, a classic case of clingy parenting. Have you told him you need space?”

“I shouldn’t need to tell him,” Dick grumbled. “I thought all those years working with you guys in the Teen Titans was me telling him I needed space.”

“Maybe, but you moved back home now, which implies you’re going to live on his terms,” Donna mused. “I mean, Gotham is his territory. You know how much of a control freak he is. Of course he’s going to want to tell you exactly what to do.”

“And,” Wally added around a mouthful of fries, “he hasn’t necessarily seen how much you’ve grown and matured while you were away. Parents have this strange tendency to believe their kids are younger and feebler than they actually are. He probably still thinks you’re the wild adolescent he took in a few years ago.”

“But I’m not!”

“Well duh.” Wally rolled his eyes.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Dick growled frustratedly. He kicked at one of the scraps of trash that seemed obligated to be on every Gotham rooftop.

“Move,” Donna said pointedly. “Get out of Gotham. You’ll never get the independence you want here.”

“But this is my home too! I shouldn’t have to leave just because he’s been here longer. Gotham’s a big enough city to host several heroes.”

Wally and Donna exchanged skeptical looks.

“Dude, you haven’t been in Gotham more than three weeks straight for the past four years. Why are you so afraid of moving?”

“I’m not. I just don’t know that it’s the right time. I mean, at the very least this clinginginess has shown me how much Batman still needs a sidekick.”

“He’s hopeless,” Wally muttered, crushing his empty fries carton.

“For Zeus’s sake, Dick! Pick a side,” Donna growled. “Do you want to be the mature adult ready to strike out on his own or the self-sacrificing son sticking around to encourage his father’s dependency issues?”

“I just- I haven’t figured it out yet, okay? You guys might be used to doing things solo, but I prefer being around people who have my back.”

“Is that what this is about?” Donna asked incredulously. “You think we’ve abandoned you because our team disbanded?”

“That’s cold, dude. I mean, what do you call this then? Just a regular old courtesy chat on a dirty rooftop at an unholy hour of the night?”

“No,” Dick sighed. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”

“We know, dude. Relax. We’re just giving you a hard time.” Wally smiled sympathetically.

“Honestly, there are days when I miss the team or our sidekick eras,” Donna admitted, “but just like our civilian lives, there comes a point where we have to make our own decisions as heroes. We don’t get to stay kids forever.”

Dick turned his back to his friends and gazed out across the Gotham cityscape, a frown on his face. This place was always so dramatic. The shadows were darker than they were in other cities, and lights were either a dim and useless yellow or bright enough to blind. It made him miss the sun and clean air. He’d liked being at Titans Tower. There’d been a lot less lurking, and they’d made most of their plans and decisions together as a team. Could he find that respect and joy in Gotham?

“You know what?” Wally asked suddenly, breaking into his musings. (Dick refused to believe he’d inherited Bruce’s brooding tendency.) “Let’s go on a road trip!”

“And how is that supposed to help me sort things out?”

Wally shrugged.

“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. But it’ll give you some temporary space from the Bat, and you’ll get to hang out with us for a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” Donna looked concerned.

“”It’s a road trip. Those things aren’t fast,” he chuckled.

“I have a job, though.”

“As a freelance photographer. Your schedule’s flexible, right? Plus you can take you camera along and get some cool location shots to fill out your portfolio.”

“And what locations do you have in mind?”

“Anywhere!” He spread his arms wide. “The Grand Canyon, the St. Louis Arch, Broadway, whatever! This might be our last big hurrah together before adulthood and jobs and things. So? What do you say?”

The other two exchanged looks. Dick shrugged. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

“Alright,” Donna agreed, “on a few conditions.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“No night job stuff. That means no costumes, no cases, and keeping the powers to a minimum. If we’re going to make this an escape from the crazy, we minimize the crazy we bring with us.”

“Fine by me,” Wally agreed.

“My other condition is Roy comes too. It wouldn’t feel right to go without him.”

“Cool. Is that it? I’ll go ask him right now.”

Before either could stop him, Wally zoomed off the roof heading towards Star City.

“How long do you think it’ll take him to convince Roy?” Dick asked. His friend shrugged, gathering up their discarded food wrappers and crushing them into a paper bag.

“Not long. He’s been talking about taking a break for a while. Assuming he thinks he can survive being stuck with us in a car for a few weeks, he’ll be on board.”

They waited in silence for a while, the sounds of sirens and street traffic the backdrop for their thoughts. It had been a while since Dick hadn’t been surrounded by noise. Getting away from it might be nice, or it might be unsettling. He supposed he’d find out.

Wally returned, skidding to a halt and scattering bits of trash around him. He had a big grin on his face and was holding another bag of take-out.

“Roy said yes,” he announced. “Now who wants more fries?”

-----

When Roy opened his front door five days later, he was met with the flash of a camera.

“Donna come on,” he groaned, but there was amusement in his eyes.

“I have a fondness for candids,” she grinned, snapping another for good measure.

“Between your camera and Wally’s choice of music, I might be driven to murder by the end of this.” He threw a large duffle bag into the back of his truck where several other bags full of camping equipment and luggage were piling up.

“What do you have against Shakira?” Wally demanded, adding a tarp to the pile.

“Nothing, unless she’s on repeat for two and a half hours.”

“But you told me I needed to joke less and be more honest. Hips don’t lie, Roy. You can’t get more honest than that.”

Roy just rolled his eyes and turned to Donna.

“Is Dick back yet?”

“Nope, but we did give him a big shopping list. I’m not sure how he’s going to fit everything on his motorcycle.”

“Want me to run and check on him?” Wally offered.

“No need,” Donna announced, spotting their friend turning onto Roy’s street. She could see shopping bags filling his limited storage and balanced carefully on his bike. Glancing at the already full truck, she wondered where they were going to fit it all, though Wally would probably eat half of it before they pulled out of the driveway.

“They didn’t have any good trail mix,” Dick announced, slipping off his helmet, “but there will be plenty of truck stops and Trader Joe’s along the way so I can pick some up later.”

“Thanks man.” Wally grabbed a few of the bags, but instead of strategically packing them in the truck, he began rifling through them on the hunt for something to eat.

“No cheese puffs,” Roy warned. “I don’t want orange fingerprints all over my interior.”

“Bugles it is, then.”

An hour later, the truck was packed, Dick’s motorcycle was tucked safely into the garage, and they’d managed to claim their seats with minimal arguing.

“Who’s ready for some music?” Dick asked while Roy eased out onto the road. Having won the passenger’s seat, he was responsible for navigational support and road tunes. Hitting play on his phone, the bright horn intro for “Hips Don’t Lie” filtered through the speakers. Wally bit back a giggle. Roy just sighed resignedly.

“If the next song is another Shakira, I am pulling over and kicking both of you out.”

“Oh baby when you talk like that, you make a woman go mad,” Dick sang at him in falsetto. By the end of the song, even Roy was singing along.

#writersmonth2019 #gizka #my words #dc #dc comics #teen titans #titans #dick grayson #donna troy #wally west #roy harper

6 notes · View notes

themaevethcometh · 5 years

Text

stopped clocks

It takes approximately four days for him to say something, but it’s obvious things are wrong long before that.

Archaetrix can't seem to get over Romanza. Josiah doesn't know if she ever will.

Written for writer's month day 9: time travel

For the past few summers, I have been fortunate enough to see the summer show at Circus Juventas, the largest youth circus in North America. This fic is based on their 2018 show STEAM, a weird mix of HG Wells and Jules Verne and time travel and other steampunk/science fiction ideas. If you want to watch a 7 minute highlight video that probably won't tell you anything you need to know about the plot but shows some really cool circus tricks, you can do so here.

Read on AO3

It takes approximately four days for him to say something, but it’s obvious things are wrong long before that. Archaetrix is always the first person to suggest that it’s time to move on, but the thought hasn’t even seemed to cross her mind. They’ve been camped out in a hotel for nearly two weeks, and Arronax and his crew have left. Josiah isn’t used to feeling bored--in fact, he hasn’t since falling in with Archaetrix and Hermoine, but that’s exactly what’s happening now.

It’s not just boredom that pushes Josiah to action, though. He’s worried. Everything about Archaetrix’s behavior has been out of character since that day. They all saw things that they’ll never forget: Da Vinci’s workshop, alien invaders, wind up girls coming to life, creatures not quite human in the future. It’s understandable that it might take some time to process and adjust to that. He knows that they probably won’t be accepting any more invitations to Verne’s mansion anytime soon, and the few days after the event were spent in a daze, constantly trying to reassure himself that everything had actually happened.

“Of course it did,” Arronax said when Josiah questioned him. “I have a time travel extension on my blimp to prove it. I have money I won from Phineas and managed to save the world by beating an alien in her challenge. You’re not losing your memory, are you?” he joked. “One too many blows to your thick skull, perhaps?”

That’s all that it took for Josiah to get over it, and by the time Arronax took his crew to other skies, he had adjusted and was ready for their own adventure.

When Arronax offered a lift anywhere on their route, Archaetrix refused, which meant that Hermoine refused. Josiah thought perhaps their plans involved a different direction, but so far the plans seem to consist of staying closed off and not talking to anyone.

Archaetrix might not be the most talkative person in the world, but she has worse wanderlust than any of them. To see her closing herself off and spending days in the hotel room is disconcerting.

Josiah knocks on the door once to no answer. He knocks again, then lets himself in to the women’s hotel room. Perhaps anyone who saw would consider it improper, but there are very few boundaries when you’ve travelled on adventures together. A wood door is hardly one of them.

Hermoine looks up from the map that she’s studying and brightens. Archaetrix’s eyes are glued to the book in her hand. She doesn’t so much as twitch.

“Josiah,” Hermoine says. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“It’s time for dinner,” he says. “I was wondering if you two were hungry.”

Hermoine checks the clock on the desk, then tilts back the curtains to chance a look at the sunset.

“I didn’t realize it had gotten this late. Archaetrix, are you coming?”

The other woman doesn’t respond, and a frown creases Hermoine’s forehead.

“Archaetrix, did you hear me? You need to eat.”

Josiah flicks on the electric lamp on the bedside table, and that is finally enough for Archaetrix to blink and look up. She hums when she sees Josiah, the sound a clear question.

“It’s dinner time. Are you coming with?” he asks.

“I have too much work to do,” she scoffs, turning back to the book.

“What kind of work? Planning for our next adventure?” he asks, harsher than he intends. Archaetrix hears the edge in his voice and snaps her attention to him, whip fast. For the first time in a while, Josiah is reminded of a time when she wouldn’t have allowed him to fling her over his shoulder and carry her away. He misses when he didn’t feel like he had to.

“My work is none of your business,” she snaps.

“You’re not going to find him this way,” he says. “He’s not here in your history books. He’s not in this hotel room. It’s no use scouring things that have already been written when our closest connection to time travel flew away a week ago. You don’t even know if he can be found again!”

“He can!” she says, furious. “I already found him twice. I can do it again.”

“You didn’t find him at all! We stumbled across him in Italy, and we were running from whatever creatures those were in the future, not looking for your lost love that you met once!”

“Josiah,” Hermoine begs, and it’s that rather than Archaetrix’s glare that makes him back down slightly.

Hermoine doesn’t beg. None of them do, really. When Hermoine wants something, she asks incessantly, and she might plead a bit, but she never sounds broken while doing so. Seeing her looking so small makes him pause.

“I would very much like to go to dinner now,” she finally says after a long pause. “Will you accompany me? Please?”

The please is out of character, too. While Hermoine is generally the most likely to remember manners out of the trio, she wouldn’t ask him like this unless she’s very upset.

He nods. Hermoine stands.

“I’ll bring you back something,” she says to Archaetrix. The other woman nods, then returns to her book. Josiah leaves the room before he can lose his temper again.

“Thank you,” Hermoine says quietly as she closes the door behind her. Josiah pulls her into a hug and holds her until he can feel her relax. Hermoine has always played mediator between the two strongest personalities on the team, and she's consistently the one trying to bring up the mood when it's low. Their fights have been draining her since they started, and he just hadn't realized this until now.

"I'm sorry," he says, letting her go. She steps back and nods, not meeting his eyes, then begins down the hallway. He follows in silence until they leave the hotel.

"I know that you hate when we fight, but you understand that this is an issue, correct? She's chasing after a fantasy. It can't be healthy."

"Josiah, you don't have a romantic bone in your body," Hermoine sighs. "But this has gone too far. I just don't know what to do for her. I've never seen her like this before, and she seems determined to find Romanza or wither away looking."

"Do you think he's out there, looking for her too?" he asks. Hermoine doesn't say anything for a long time. Soon enough, they're outside a cafe that they've frequented before. Josiah orders and pays for all three of them in a small apology for his earlier outburst.

"I don't know," Hermoine says finally. "I don't understand how we could have found him twice in the same day, in two wildly different time periods, yet he hasn't come for her in the two weeks we've been back in our own time."

"Do you think he loves her? Do you think he's capable of that?"

Hermoine considers her thoughts again before answering.

"I didn't speak with him enough to be able to say. He was reaching for her when we left, just as she was..." Josiah nods. "Do you think there's something keeping him from reaching out to her now?"

"I don't know," he says. "We were the ones to find him both times. Perhaps he expects her to find him again."

"But we don't have any time travel technology, and we've found no clues in this time period as to where he could be."

"Perhaps we should have taken Arronax up on his offer for a ride.”

"You just miss him and the trouble you two always get into," Hermoine says, giving him a wry look that's more familiar than any of her expressions have been tonight. "Perhaps Mechanica is still at Verne's mansion. We could ask her for technological help, or to use her time machine."

"Do you really want to go back there?" Hermoine wrinkles her nose. "I didn't think so. There could still be aliens or hybrid animal creatures or mad scientists or whatever new monstrosity he's invited to stay."

"I don't know what else to do," she says.

"I don't, either."

It's dark by the time they return to the hotel, the lamps on the street creating a faint glow with long shadows. Hermoine can defend herself and has proven this time and again, but Josiah has to resist the urge to pull her closer anyway. When they reach the girls' room, she stops and faces him.

"We'll find a way to fix this. I'll start by getting her out of that room tomorrow. If we get desperate enough, I can bring her to Mechanica or Verne."

"We'll all go. If we have to time travel again, we'll all go then, too."

Hermoine nods.

"We're a trio, Hermoine. As much as Archaetrix may be frustrating me now, I'm not leaving you two."

Hermoine nods again, and that seems to put her more at ease. Josiah pulls her into another quick hug, and when he releases her she almost has one of her signature smiles on.

"Goodnight, Josiah," she says.

"Goodnight," he bids. She slips inside, and Josiah returns to his own room. That night, his dreams are filled with aliens and the future and an answer just out of reach. He wakes in a cold sweat and wishes they all never lived a moment out of time.

#writersmonth2019 #my writing #science fiction #circus juventas #maeve posts

5 notes · View notes

crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years

Text

The Magnificent Guide to Magic

Runes and...something else

Hello, it’s JJ again. I promised you a follow-up on the situation, so that is what I am delivering. We did manage to find Marvin, luckily a friend of ours saw him and alerted us. He texted us! It’s so very helpful! However, he is not quite...himself right now. We accidentally invited someonething in. It’s...exactly what I feared. Luckily, we have the situation contained. Namely, we locked Marvin in an empty room again. He’s throwing a tantrum in there.

I’ve been trying to find a way to fix this for four hours. Henrik and Chase are making sure nothing happens in the meantime. I’ve pulled out all the magic books, all the magick books, and all the information we have, yet it still doesn’t seem to be enough. I haven’t a clue how Marvin managed to push him out last time, the only explanation I can think of is that his attention was divided between the dreamscape, Antithesis, and m Apologies, my mind was wandering. I would thank you to ignore that sentence. I am...tired.

The point is, this may be a different sort of situation, but I have a hunch that, just like the last time, we may need magic to reverse this, something that only Marvin has out of all of us. But until I have run out of options, I will keep looking for a solution. And that brings me to the point. I have been trying to find a solution, but it may be that I need to make a solution. Using runes.

Runes are a complex study. There are some debates that they aren’t truly magick or magic, but something else on their own that witches and magicians can use as a tool. They certainly follow their own set of laws. The best way I can describe runic use is that you are writing something into being. Not exactly true. You cannot write a sentence about events in runes and expect those events to come true. That is not a normal power. I once heard tale of an anomaly in America that could write the future. Or was it speak the future? Never you mind, it’s not important right now. The point is that, using runes, you can create objects, spells, and forces out of nothing.

The most common use of runes is magickal talismans, wherein you write or carve them in a specific formation on an item and that can create a force that extends a certain way past the talisman. Usually protection, though there are ones that can bring bad luck or ill intent upon anyone in a certain radius. In addition, if you put runes on a piece of jewelry or sew them into clothing, they will give the same effect but only to the person wearing said items. These are called amulets. Placing runes on magical tools can enhance their abilities with a certain type of spell or magical purpose, and they are what powers most magickal rituals.

There are thirteen runic alphabets, seven of which have a spoken language paired with them. Each alphabet has its strengths and weaknesses. For example, one might have characters that work best for protection but no characters for elemental spells, while another has characters that are tuned to elements but rubbish for scrying, and so on. Most magicians know one or two, while most witches know three or four. I, personally, know eight, though that may be the one virtue to having more time to learn them.

You cannot cross runic alphabets. If you try, the spell you are attempting will backfire, at best fizzing out and at worst quite literally blowing up in your face. The pattern you write the runes in is also crucial. I would draw you examples, but frankly I am too tired for that, and also I wish to keep this short. Suffice to say there are five basic rules for rune patterns:

Circles are for protection

Lines are for attack

Geometric shapes, like squares or triangles, lend power to whatever you are trying to create (more sides mean more power)

Shapes overlapping can cause serious problems if done wrong (see earlier reference to runes blowing up in your face) but if done right can make it very difficult to undo the runes’ effects

The straighter and more even you write the runes and the shapes they’re in, the more powerful the effect will be

The most important thing to remember when writing runes is intent. It’s true, each rune has something it represents, like “eye” or “fire,” and when combined with each other they will have different effects, but unless you intend them to work they will not. This is why you must learn at least what runes mean before attempting to write them. Otherwise you will pick a wrong symbol, intending it to do something that it cannot do, and your spell or talisman or other effect will fail. Not backfire, but simply not work. This is also why you can find runic alphabets and known runic patterns written in spellbooks, but they do not work. The writer of the book did not intend it to work, merely to instruct, and so it will not.

—

I...must be honest. I hoped writing would somehow lend me a solution, or make me come to a sudden realization, but it has not. I still do not know what to do. I could try to go into more details of runes and hope something comes to me, but I doubt it will. If only we knew more about this.

It’s obvious that Marvin is not like this because of a host takeover. He currently already has a host, though I suppose there’s the chance he was looking for a new one. But in addition, a takeover takes a longer time, at least a year, with the most activity in the month before he makes the attempt. And there was no attempt at all, even. Marvin has not been injured in any way. Neither is this a case of forceful or coerced puppeteering. If that was true, then the actions would be different. Spastic movement, no speaking (if that is even an option in the first place), laughter, and more importantly seeing what is happening inside through the eyes. It is not a voice situation either, it is clearly Marvin speaking and moving and not him.

My closest guess is that it’s something similar to a thrall. What with the blank eyes, dull voice, unquestioning listening to the commander. But that takes at least a week of preparation, it’s not possible with just under an hou

Sorry about that sudden cutting off, Chase just wanted to see how I was getting along and update me on the situation. He...he says that Marvin seems afraid now. And horrible as that is, that...may have given me an idea.

Perhaps this doesn’t follow the rules. He never does, not even if the rules are his own. But if there is one thing about him that remains constant, it is pain and fear. If Marvin was having one of those, I believe the term is “panic attack”s, then maybe, with how close he is, that was enough? Enough to step in? But it couldn’t have been very deep. What works fast? Think, Jameson, think, think, think

I am a fool. I forgot about overwhelming. Wherein something or someone overwhelms a subject with one single emotion, and uses that to get the subject to do as told. Usually, that is happiness or contentment, but of course he would use fear. On the surface level, overwhelmed subjects act similarly to a thrall, except thralls are truly empty and the overwhelmed feel nothing except one emotion.

The way to fix this is to help the subject feel something beside this. That may be difficult if he is trying to attack whoever is in sight.

But...I have a plan.

Wish me luck.

#FINALLY HAD TIME TO WRITE THIS FRICK #hmm...wonder how jj knows so much about forms of mind control...#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #magnificent guide to magic #brigid writes fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

iliketowrite1996 · 6 years

Text

Only you part 3

So I have not written argument dialogue in so long, and I did my best. Please, if you have constructive criticism for me, I would appreciate it! This is being posted because I think I am getting better. I was initially worried, but if I worry too much about if I am a good writer or not, I’d never post. So that’s what I want to encourage everyone to do: keep writing! That’s the only way tog et better and feel comfortable, even if you don’t post it for people to read!

TRIGGER WARNING- Fighting, divorce, post-divorce, breaking up, unplanned pregnancy, illusions to sex, self-sabotage, mentions of infidelity.

A lot can happen in six months.

In six months time, you have a boyfriend. It’s pretty casual, because you kind of see other people. But you really like Brandon. He treats you well, and he’s travelling a lot. That’s nice because you're not sure where this is going and you don’t want the kids t be involved yet.

T’Challa has been casually seeing her. And you trying to be happy for him, but you know he's no good for him, or your children. Until he tells you that he wants them to meet her, you’ll bite your tongue and hold it back.

Just like you’ve been holding everything back for the last six months.

You’re having another family day with the kids, this time at the beach. Adanya is giggling as T’Challa holds her and they wade in the water, your seven year old holding on tightly to him.

‘’Mommy, can we make another sand castle,’’ Ado asks, and you smile at your four-year-old.

‘’We sure can, Ado,’’ you speak and you dive into making the sand castle with your youngest.

You hear more giggles, and you’re grateful for this day. The kids are still a bit tired from moving back and forth every other weekend, but they seem to have adjusted pretty well. They like being able to spend time with both of you, and you’re lucky that it could work out that way.

‘’We should put this on top,’’ your son places a seashell on top of the now completed sand castle, and stands back to look at his masterpiece, ‘’Thank you for helping me, mommy.’’

‘’Of course, Ado. Want me to take a picture of the castle,’’ you question, and he eagerly nods. ‘’Baba! Adanya! Look at what I made!’’

His sister and dad pad barefoot out of the ocean, her little hand in is big hand as they walk across the warm sand.

‘’What a nice castle! Perfect for a prince,’’ T’Challa picks his son up, placing him on his shoulder, ‘’Is mommy going to take a picture?’’

‘’How does my hair look,’’ Adanya asks, moving her hair to smooth down her box braids.

‘’You look just like Auntie Shuri, princess. Now, come on. We have to add another picture to the Udaku family scrapbook.’’

She gets into position then, on the other side of the castle. You angle the camera so that you are in the picture too after you snap one of T’Challa and the kids without you in it.

And this- this is your version of a paradise. You’re happy and carefree, and you can hear the birds chirping and the waves lapping against the sand. Your daughter and your son are in the moment, just enjoying the day and nature and imagining new adventures with each other

And T’Challa is as beautiful as a summer’s day is long. This sun is hitting him and making his skin glow. It’s inviting, really- you miss pressing your lips to those broad

shoulders, miss being able to place a hand on that umber skin.

He is beautiful.

And you feel horrible, because Brandon is there and you are comfortable and he is charming and why go back to T’Challa when its not feasible?

It’s an hour later that the kids are falling asleep on you, and T’Challa picking Adanya up while you take Ado and place him in his booster seat. The children fall asleep completely after they are strapped into the car. You’re sitting in the front seat, on the cusp of sleep yourself, and T’Challa is driving you back to your apartment.

‘’I’m glad we have been spending more time with the kids. Together, I mean. I can’t imagine how it is going to be when we start dating again.’’

‘’Actually… I think I may introduce Brandon to the kids soon,’’ you explain, ‘’He seems committed to me.’’

You don’t miss the way that T’Challa’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, the skin across his knuckles stretching tautly over the bone there, ‘’Oh?’’

‘’What does ‘Oh?’ mean, T’Challa?’’

‘’That you have not been dating him that long. And my main concern is how my children will handle that, but I don’t want you to get hurt either.’’

‘’I’m fine, T’Challa. I can take care of myself.’’

He mumbles something under his breath, and all you have to catch is your name being used and the tone to understand that it wasn’t nice. No matter, though, because he has no say unless it’s about the kids.

Which is what he reminds you when you’ve played the children in their beds, sheets pulled up to protect them from the slight chill in the air.

‘’They’re getting so big,’’ you sigh as they sleep peacefully, Adanya clutching her plush black panther and Ado clutching his stuffed giraffe.

‘’They really are,’’ T’Challa looks to the children once more, and he gazes with so much love in his eyes that it makes your heart flutter.

And you hate that and love it at the same time.

‘’So what are your plans for tomorrow,’’ you question as you shake the sand out of the children’s shoe and into the trash bag.

‘’I have some council meetings and a press conference. I’d like to also do some shopping for Shuri’s birthday.’’

‘’Ohhh don’t get her a new book set form her favorite author. I got her that.’’

‘’How did you manage to get her a better gift than me?’’

‘’She’s one of my best friends. I spend a lot of time with her, too. She’ll love whatever you give her though- you have the same relationship with her that Ado and Adanya have. He absolutely adores his big sister.’’

‘’She adores him, too. Speaking of family, can we talk about ours for a moment?’’

You close the door, leaving once you hear the soft click.

‘’Not tonight. I really need to get back. But the children will be with my mother tomorrow. Is that alright with you.’’

You agree. It’d be better for the two of you if you talked about things later, when tiny eyes can't see into their parents’ complex relationship

‘’Sure,’’ you guide him to the door, ‘’Tomorrow at eight?’’

‘’Tomorrow at eight.’’

A lot can happen in 24 hours.

Which is why you find yourself face-to-face with T’Challa right now, guiding him to the kitchen table. After all, that seems to be where you have all of your conversations these days. The dim kitchen light adds a shadow to his features, and it matches the dark feeling that you sense coming with this conversation.

It’s not a fight- not yet. It’s clenched fists, tight lips, words that are spoken through clenched teeth.

You accuse him of not letting you move on, of being jealous.

He accuses you of moving too fast, of being reckless.

And he’s forcing you to crontront the truth: you don’t want to be with Brandon. Not really. Or you do, and it’s not the right time. The point is, you don’t want to be with him right now. And the man that you do want to be with his standing front of you, eyes trained on yours in the kitchen light.

‘’Why do you even care?’’

That throws T’Challa, because why would he not care?

‘’Do you think this is easy, T’Challa? You and I both know it’s not. I am still trying to figure out how to get back into dating, and you don’t even have the decency to let me get over you.’’

‘’I-’’

‘’I’m not finished. Do you know how bad it hurt when you told me that you wanted a divorce? That hit deep, T’Challa. Because I thought that, even when we hit another rough patch like that we would be fine, But, no. I felt like you were getting out of that relationship, and you never gave me an actual reason. That would have helped a lot, T’Challa. And I spent hours and days and weeks wondering how we let our relationship fall apart, brick-by-brick. You-’’ you’re cut off when your voice catches in your throat, and a wave of tears that you’ve never let fall in front of him.

‘’I hurt so bad, and I never heard why. You never told me why you just through it all away. I deserved that, T’Challa, and you never gave it to me.’’

He’s letting you bent now- over a year’s worth of pent up emotions finally bubbling their way to the surface and breaking free.

‘’I didn’t even get a chance to get my thoughts together, you know? Because every wish us is so publicized. There was no time for me to even grieve in privacy like most couples get to, I had conferences and events to attend. I had to fight the media and this ...and for the kids. I did It mostly for them, even when I felt like I was trying to fight this battle without the proper equipment. Because I couldn’t let their world fall apart even when mine was crumbling in front of me like a sand castle!’’

He’s watching you pace then, a bitter laugh ripping from your throat, ‘’And now you all of a sudden care? Why? Why can’t you just let me get over you like how you’ve gotten over me? Why do I still want you, and only you?’’

And you sit and wait for his response.

Everyone always assumes that T’Challa is invincible. After all, he is the Black Panther, the king and protector of Wakanda. He is stoic and strong, kind and concerned. He is an excellent king, a loving dad, a wonderful son, an amazing brother.

But he can definitely tell the areas where he was just a lackluster husband.

And no one knows how often he’d beat himself up over that after the last divorce paper was signed. How he’d try to forget about you at night as his friend pressed her lips to his in a kiss in the back of a limo and he attempted to push thoughts of you and what you were doing and who you were doing it with out of his mind.

But you’re always there. Not just because you have children together No, he adores those children and he can separate his love for them from his feelings for you. What he can't separate is the feeling of being in love from your name, your face, your personality, you. He spends countless nights looking at the moon, knowing that you are looking at the same one, and hoping that you don’t hate him.

Because he sure did expect you to. Which is why he was so happy when you didn't. What he's still can't explain to himself is his jealousy at the thought of you moving on and finding someone else. He feels like a hypocrite, but it’s got you to this point- you are finally talking about these things.

Or, rather, fighting. You are fighting. He believes that, out of all of the things that have been said tonight, that is the one statement that you'd agree with.

The one thing you always agreed on- before the children- was that having a relationship that absolute strangers were interested in was hard. Hell, you’re divorced now and people still care. There are always eyes watching, fingers pointing, lips moving. And he knew that getting into this with you, it would be difficult. But you’re strong and he is strong, so you figured that your relationship could withstand any hard thing.

Not so.

The blows came at your relationship, one right after another- rumors of infidelity. Hurt feelings, Pictures taken out of context.

The straw that broke the camel’s back? When you told him that you did not know whether or not to believe in those damned rumors anymore. That you weren’t so sure that you wanted this anymore.

That you weren’t sure if he even cared about you anymore.

He’ll never let you know how badly that hurt. How he wanted you to feel the same hurt, and, in a moment that he immediately regretted, he said that the three words that tore your world apart: this is the end.. That he was done with this. That he was letting you go.

Looking back on things, he wonders if that’s why he said it, the damaged root that somehow produced a tree on which nothing but heartache, bitterness, and tears: he wanted to let you go, and he was tired of trying so hard to maintain this relationship just to keep making the same mistakes.

There. He finally admitted it.

He is human. He is only human and he will apologize for the moments of him being human that hurt you and others, because he is not perfect and they will happen. And you had moments like that as well, but all was forgiven.

So he is hoping the same could be said for him in those moments that he hurt you, because that’s why he let you go- If you'd be happier without him, he’d want that. But he didn’t know letting go was so hard. And this marriage, or, rather, your divorce, hurt him like rope burn- the more he tried to hold on, the more you both hurt. And when he let go of the rope,things hurt slightly less. But that just meant that he’d now lost the rope, as had you, and there was nothing to tie you to him in the way in which he desired you.

And he could say a lot of things to you right now.

He could bring up all of the rumors of you and M'Baku his best friend of all people/

He could bring up all of the times that you started pretty little fights.

He could even bring up how you screamed at him that you didn’t want him anymore that night- the night that changed it all.

But no. Tonight, he really wants to put an end to your heart for you, with tender words and the truth.

Because, maybe, the tender words of how he feels will cushion the truth of why he asked for the divorce in the first place.

‘’I still love you. Only you, honestly. I don’t want her. Do you truly believe that I aver stopped loving you?’’

‘’I don’t know what to believe anymore, T’Challa,’’ you sound so defeated, and he hasn’t heard that tone of voice from you since the day that you signed those final papers, punctuating the end of your name with a period as you punctuate the end of your relationship with a signature.

‘’I wanted you to stop hurting,’’ he tells you, ‘’And it sounds so dumb and cliche’. But I figured if I let the marriage go and let you move on it would work. I knew you would never let go without fighting for it. So I lied. Hell, I’m even with… her, just to get over you. But I still love you.’’

There’s silence then, before you are closing your eyes and shaking your head, ‘’Stop. Please just… my head is spinning.’’

He has both hand on your shoulder then, staring at you intently, ‘’You don’t believe me, do you?’’

‘’Why should I?!’’

‘’You shouldn't. I know. But if I could go back in time, you have to believe that I would never have done that. Or maybe I would have. Because we’re finally talking about it for once.’’

He’s right, and you kind of feel bittersweet about it. It took you breaking up, with schedules and working on co-parenting and being there for your children as well as your duties as king and former queen to make things work.’’

Your silent then, before you are sliding down the kitchen wall, back pressed ot it and face in your hands.

This Is overload for you- you’re not sure how to react to it. He did this to not hurt you, but he also hurt you. The irony is not lost on him, either, and he’s staring at you,waiting for a reaction.

‘’How did we end up like that,’’ you question after nearly ten minutes, ‘’We started off so strong. How did we get there?’’

He sits there with you and balances all of the things. The beginning was bliss- that first year of marriage took some strength, but you pushed through it. As you did all the way up until you gave birth to Adanya. In that moment, you both had a new role to take on, but you loved it. That little girl has brought so much joy and laughter into your life, as has Ado. And you love those children with all your heart., as does T’Challa.

Your duties as king and queen required a lot of public appearances and media outlets getting involved in your personal life. You knew it would be that way. T’Challa, who has been raised and taught how to endure all of this- helped you. His hand on the small of your back, he guided you through each new challenge the way he’d often guide you through introductions and crowds at events.

So you sit there with him on living room floor, going over the possible reasons as the moonlight shines into the room.

‘’I think,’’ T’Challa begins, and he sounds even more unsure than you’ve ever heard him before, ‘’I think that we put so much focus on being what others wanted that we forgot to pay attention to us.’’

And there it is. Like a ton of bricks, it hits you. Behind all of those tears and fights and accusations was the root of it all- the moment that the two of you stopped working so hard to keep building what you had together, and it began to rust and rot and fall apart.

‘’Brandon and I broke up,’’ you tell him, leaning your head against his shoulder like you used to, ‘’Because I figured out I didn’t care for him the way he cares for me.’’

He hides the grin that wants to be permanently etched onto his face. Instead, he tells you that he cut ties with that girl a long time ago, because even if they agreed to be something casual, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep trying to put you in her shoes and attach your name to kisses that never held an ounce of the passion that he still carried for you. And you tell him that you don't want to talk about that girl tonight, that girl whose name you don’t want to hear tonight.

Tonight, you are not going to play games with each other. You’re going to sit with T’Challa and have a conversation that is long overdue.

You both understand that couples grow apart. That it’s human, That people get divorced and its often for the best. That what you had would take years to build back up if you even wanted to. That you'd have to make some adjustments and that, hello, nothing's the same as it was when you first got married. Adanya and Ado are smart and resilient, but you don't want to push them through something that they are not ready for.

He says your name so softly that it takes you a moment to realize he’s talking to you as he plays with your ring finger, where there used to be a lighter ring of skin where that ring used to be, ‘’What do we do now?’’

‘’I don’t know, T’Challa. But whatever we decide to do, we need to take it slowly. And we need to talk.’’

And you do.

You keep it between the two of you, but you seek counseling. You figure out the issues that you need to work on if you ever do decide to get back together as a couple.

But you’re not here yet. No, not yet.

You spend more time together with the kids-from events that require your presence to movie nights to dinners to breakfast to lunch.

You spend more time focusing on the positives of this situation, lesson on the negatives.

You talk despite the times that it’s so hard and the times that you just do not ant to.

This continues for four months, and now you find yourself in familiar territory with T'Challa pressing kisses to your neck. Adanya is at a three day science camp being led by Shuri and Ado is spending the with Ramonda at the palace.

;;I’ve missed this. I love this,’’ T’Challa beings his lips back to yours.

And it’s slow- it’s slow like the way you’re rebuilding something together with him again. Because you need to establish that foundation and explanations and expectations. You're building something special, so now you’re using better ground work.

‘’I love you,’’ you whisper for the first time in over two years, and he returns it without hesitation.

Because you’re friends but you’re more than friends. You have a confusing dynamic and it shows in the way you interact. Your kisses are clumsy but familiar, just like everything else has been the past four months.

And that night, the blanket is not the only thing keeping you warm.

Three months.

A lot changes in three months.

Your children are currently watching television as you and T’Challa sit on the couch ask your apartment, Udaku and Mommy family movie night under way. His hand is over yours under the blanket, and you can’t tell if you’re dancing with a flirtatious relationship or another situation. You are both toeing the line, dancing between friends and something more, even if it's not like it is before. But that’s okay.

Like any great story- whether fiction or not, your story is hard to read at times. There are twists and changes. Moments of confusion, moments where you’re not even sure if the author of the story is sure. But now you’ve decided that you and T’Challa will be authors of your own story. Because you can see it in his eyes that he knows the wheels in your head are turning, that you want to try again but you are not exactly sure how to proceed with caution and throw your cautions to the wind at the same time.

He thinks about this three days later as you watch another movie as a family, all of the school work and meetings and events done for the day. You’re lying on the couch, feet propped up on him as the children laugh in front of you,. For once, he’s thinking about workout pain or willy uo want him back so won't you. No.

All he know is that this is his paradise- his children are engrossed in the movie and the love of his life is sitting next to him. He’d be glad to rewrite a love story with you, but this is nice to. Now that you both know the root of the problem, you’re sure that you will have a happier ending.

Even if that ends with you in the arms and heart of another man, and him with another woman. Because the only constant stars in the galaxy that is your relationship to him are Ado and Adanya. He adores them and they are a welcomed presence.

And for the first time in over a year, he can truly say that he is happy.

He’s ready to face any challenge and surprise that comes with being with you. He realizes that later when you say the same thing to him saying that you think maybe you should try this again.

What neither of you know is that, three days later, another surprise will enter your story in the form of a positive pregnancy test balanced on the edge of the tub.

Disclaimer- i only own Ado and Adanya and Brandon. All Marvel characters and any fictional universes associated with said characters are owned by their rightful and respectful owners and I take no ownership.

@starsshines-blog @starsshines-blog @sisterwifeudaku @greenswishbish @ashanti-notthesinger @chaneajoyyy @brianabreeze @halfrican-heat @afraiddreamingandloving @bezzywazhere @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @shesakillerkween @thisbeautifullifeofmeandyou @niecey4cocaine

#t'challa x reader #t'challa x you #t'challa udaku #t'challa #reader insert #reader #tchalla x reader #black panther #black panther imagine #black panther x you #imagines #imagine #imagine request #marvel imagine #black panther reader insert

91 notes · View notes

spacebrick3 · 6 years

Text

WHG - Kjiersten’s Victory

Alright, so I felt I should make something to describe Kjiersten’s victory in the Writeblr Hunger Games; (I can’t do any of the other days really since this turned out to be like 3k words already and I do need to actually get other stuff done haha)

It’s going along with the rebellion/conspiracy started by @ratracechronicler and @concealeddarkness13 - also, @writer-denois and @owlsofstarlight your characters Ra’ae and Maldl showed up as the only other two in the final days of the Games.

I should have an ‘after-the-games’ post made for Kjiersten as well sometime, but here’s my take on how the Games ended;

Day 19:

Kjiersten stood at the edge of the forest, thinking. All three of the tributes had managed to get together the night before, but with the Capitol clearly listening in, there had been no way to discuss how they would get out. It had been an awkward conversation, then, none of them able to say what was on their minds, but there had been some interesting topics brought up, and they had been able to learn a bit more. Like the fact that Maldl had once served in a communication outpost left over from the days before Panem, handling the wires there.

They glanced over at the trees. It seemed like a nice day for some whittling.

Grabbing a vaguely straight tree branch, they hiked back into the forest, around where they knew the other two tributes had been last night. They were both District 11, so they’d likely stick together. Then, making sure he was close enough to the clearing that the tributes would be able to hear them, they started scraping at the edge of the branch with their knife.

Scrape. Scrrrrrrrape. Scrape. Scrape. Pause. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Pause. Scrrrrrrrape. Pause. Scrrrrrrrape. Scrape. They kept methodically slicing at the edge of the bark, making as much noise as possible, until they were almost sure they had to have attracted the attention of at least one of them. Then they repeated their small statement, making sure that Maldl would be able to understand it:

Lstn. Msg. Rply w 1 arw e.

They were sitting about to the southeast of the clearing. Ra’ae had been carrying a massive longbow the day before, and Kjiersten waited for about five minutes before a long, black-shafted arrow came whistling through the trees a few meters away from them, directly east. They had their attention. Again they turned their attention to the branch, clearing another section of bark to get the next message across:

hg nds. tdy o tmrw. o Cp wl snd smthg. Y? N?

Another few minutes passed, presumably while the two of them translated the message. Then came the sound of an axe chopping at wood, five strokes delivered quick, then the same five to repeated the message.

Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. Pause. Chop.

SN. Understood. Maldl and Ra’ae were agreeing, and also implicitly stating that they would follow their lead on this. Kjiersten mulled for a second about how the other two could fake their deaths. It would be the best course of action, especially since the Capitol had always been suspicious of their leadership of the Connection Project. Losing the Games would mean losing that - at least in the open - and that couldn’t happen. And besides, he thought a little ruefully, it would be nice to win the Games, at least in practice if not theory.

R, they finally sent. expls at nw cnr. st off nd rmv trckr. hc pk. QSL? (Do you acknowledge?)

QSL, came the reply. Acknowledged. Ra’ae was going to go find the explosive Kjiersten had rigged up back - was it two weeks ago now? The Games were really starting to blur their perception of time. Ra’ae would set it off from a distance, with any projectile he could find, then rip his tracker out. The others - Tom and Kallias especially, although they guessed a majority of the mentors might be in on it by now - would come collect them then, and most of the Capitol would be none the wiser.

What about Maldl, though? Both of District 11 dying together, especially after having been alive so long, would be suspicious. And if they died simply setting off a trap, the Gamemakers would be even more incensed. Best to let things go out with a bang, then.

M. Tmrw. Hr. Fht s Cp wnt spct ayt. Fg ot wo srv thr. QSL?

More silence, and they worried that they’d omitted too many letters in the interest of speed. But finally the reply came back QSL, and they sighed in relief. Tomorrow morning, they and Maldl would meet back here for a fight, and they’d decide then who would win and who would fake their death. But until then, there was nothing to do but kill a few hours until the next day, although hopefully not literal killing.

What to do until then? They looked down at the now mostly-shaved stick in their hand, and shrugged. Why not whittling?

Night 19:

The anthem had just finished playing. They had managed to get to a hill overlooking the northwest part of the forest, and looked up just in time to see a blinding flash of light illuminate the edge of the dark mass of trees. Flaming debris lit a few of nearby trees ablaze, and they burned with bright yellow light. Smoke billowed into the air.

Even though they knew it was fake, they couldn’t help but wince. That was a much bigger explosion than they had expected, and they hoped Ra’ae had known more about the explosives than they had and had been able to get out of the way in time. But they couldn’t know, not until after the Games ended. Even as they still stared down at the conflagration, a pitch-black Capitol hovercraft descended through the smoke and fire to retrieve him. It hovered only a second over the edge of the flames before launching itself back into the sky.

Kjiersten watched it go until it was only a speck in the sky. They hoped desperately that Ra’ae was alright, and that they hadn’t just witnessed a sacrifice like Val had performed the Games before in order to make Dean’s win believable. Something like that shouldn’t have to happen here. Everyone else had been able to get out fine - Veth, Kaine, Erya, Kallias - they’d watched them all get rescued, picked up in nondescript hovercraft and taken to the safe house. Sadie too, although they were sure there’d be no shortage of teasing about the fall that had allowed her to rip her tracker out. Especially since they themselves had managed to get up the trees several times to rest.

Tomorrow was coming fast and with it, the end of the Games, one way or another.

Day 20:

It was time. Early this morning, they had hiked back down from their hill and back to the clearing, trying to decide which weapon would be best for a theatrical fight. They found a mace they didn’t remember picking up or even carrying around, as well as a few different knives and one Molotov cocktail, but no matches. Barring anything else, the mace would probably be best to give the Capitol a show. At the very least, it looked interesting. They shuddered at the thought of having to actually use it, though, and hoped Maldl had either a way to convincingly fake his or their death.

Maldl had gotten there before them, and stood, bored, leaning on a massive longsword. They were taken aback slightly - where had he managed to hide that when the three of them had been talking? - but recovered, trying to adopt the same casual position with the ‘mace-over-the-shoulder-“ look. Since that nearly overbalanced them and made them fall over, they decided against it.

“So!” he called, voice echoing. “This is where it ends. Right here, right now!”

Typical theatre. The Capitol would be eating it up. “Unless you want to keep chasing each other back and forth. There’s just the two of us now. No point in dragging it any further!” they shouted back.

“Well then, who’s it going to be? Me or you?” he shouted again, raising the sword and charging. Kjiersten managed to drag the mace of the ground and block his stroke, the longsword locking against the head of the mace. “So what’s our plan?” Maldl hissed against the rasp of steel on steel.

“One of us has to fake dying!” they whispered back, pulling the mace away and stumbling back. He spun the sword in his hands, an impressively agile move for a five-foot-long blade, then spun an underhand stroke at them, which they were only barely able to block.

“Again, me or you?”

“I don’t know! Are you a good actor?”

He grinned. “The best.” Then he twisted his sword, wrenching the mace up and out of Kjiersten’s hands. Dimly, they heard it clatter to the ground behind them. “At acting, that is.”

“What?” they asked, taking a nervous step back. “No - no, you’re not doing this.”

“I am,” he said, his face changing from his amiable smile into something harder. “But you’d know about it, wouldn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” they asked desperately. “Please - I just want to help everybody get out of here alive? Why are you trying to stop that?”

“Get everybody out alive?” he asked mockingly. “You tell that to Ra’ae too, before you killed him?”

“I-“

“You modified that explosive last night! Gave it a bigger radius and everything! I watched him die, Kjiersten! He thought he was safe and then you killed him!”

They felt their blood run cold. So their suspicions last night had been correct. The blast radius of the mines had been changed to be larger than usual, probably by some sadistic or ‘tech-savvy’ sponsor. They hadn’t known, even though probably even a cursory inspection could have revealed it. And now Ra’ae was dead because of it. Actually dead, not all this Games faking-your-death stunts they’d been trying to arrange. “Why?” they whispered to themselves. “Why did this have to happen?” they asked again, louder this time. Falling to their knees, they stared at the ground as if it could hold the answers now.

“He was my friend!” Maldl shouted. “So now I’m just paying you back! You thought you were safe here, and now you’re going to die! Sound familiar?” As he shouted, he spun the sword again, then brought it down in a sweeping arc. Silver flashed bright in the morning sun as the blade whistled through the air.

Just before it hit, Kjiersten looked up at it. Time seemed to slow, and they realized something. Even though it felt like a part of them had been ripped out at the news of Ra’ae’s death, they hadn’t done it. They hadn’t made the mine or even modified it. Maybe they were complicit, but they were not at fault. Maldl was wrong.And despite everything, they still didn’t want to die.

With a cry of despair, they dove out of the way. A tearing pain split their left side as the sword came down, but they managed to get far enough that they could claw their way back up to a standing position. “Not ready to die quite yet?” Maldl asked, venom in his words. “That’s alright. Ra’ae wasn’t either.”

“I didn’t do it!” they managed to choke out. “Can’t you understand? I wasn’t the one who modified that mine!”

“Sure. Tell that to Ra’ae.”

“Damn it, Maldl, I’m trying to help you!” they shouted, wincing as the pain in their side flared again. Pressing a hand to it, they found it sticky with blood. “We can still both make it!”

He lowered the sword for a second, eyes blazing with anger. “One of us is going to die here today. If the only way to live is to accept the help of a murderer, then I believe I will be happy to go down fighting.”

“Please! No matter who dies today, Ra’ae’s still going to be dead!” They stumbled over to where the mace lay. Suns of Thiorna, they didn’t want to fight. But they didn’t want to die either. And they had a terrible feeling that, in just a few minutes, those desires would enter direct conflict.

“Yes, he is,” he agreed. “But, personally, I have a feeling that it might be more than a little dishonorable to his memory to accept the help of his murderer.” He adopted a fighting stance, sword held out straight in front of him. “No more words. It ends here.”

“PLEASE!” Kjiersten shouted, but it didn’t do any good. Maldl charged. They managed to dive out of the way, raising the weapon defensively and listening to the shrieks of metal on metal. No theater this time. “I didn’t kill him! I had no idea the mines were changed! Just listen!”

“No. You broke your word to Ra’ae,” he said, swiping at their head and missing by just a few inches. “I’ve no reason to trust whatever you say.”

They raised the mace to fend off a particularly vicious swing. “Maldl. Please! I am begging you – just let us get out of here! Continue-“ Metal clashed on metal again as he slowly drove them back, their feet sliding uselessly on the ground. “-continue your vendetta later! But right now you’re just playing into the Capitol’s hands!”

“So were you!” he shouted. “Betraying Ra’ae with a trap! I’m sure the Gamemakers just loved that!”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill him!” They knew it was useless, though. Maldl had seen Ra’ae die and blamed Kjiersten for it, and in all honesty it was an understandable reaction. If they had watched Sadie die – following orders from someone who had promised them safety – they suspected they’d react similarly. “Please, Maldl!”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don’t think so.” Then he started to advance again, swinging the sword wildly in front of him.

They stumbled backwards, frantically looking for a way out. In a perfect world, they would have had the advantage here – Maldl was almost blind with rage now, and any experienced fighter would have been able to slip through his defense. The problem, of course, was that the world was not perfect and that they were far from an experienced fighter. Plus, they didn’t want to kill Maldl if it could be helped, but he appeared to have no such qualms.

So what could they do? Kjiersten was fairly sure almost the entire Capitol hovercraft fleet was under their control – if they could make it look like Maldl was dead, and remove the tracker somehow, then he could be picked up. But he was getting closer, sword still windmilling in front of him, and they were running out of places to go to.

Their gaze fell on their backpack, on the other side of the clearing, and something resembling a plan began to form. There were weapons there, weapons he wouldn’t know about. That could give them enough of an edge, at least for a few seconds, that it was possible they could overpower him and win the fight. It’d be hard to get around him, though, and-

You know what? they decided. Screw the worrying. Either I do it right or it’s not my problem anymore. And with those inspiring words, they grabbed the mace and threw it at him, whipping it through the air towards his head.

He flinched and ducked, which gave them the opening they needed to dive past him and start running. The backpack was close, and they had just managed to scoop it up when Maldl tackled them from behind. They crashed to the ground, managing to keep their grip on the backpack but screaming in pain as the fall seemed to rip open their side again. Somehow they managed to roll over, and found themselves looking up into a face contorted in rage.

“This is how it ends!” he shouted, levelling the sword.

“Maldl-“ they managed to gasp out. “Just – one – Ra’ae said something – for you – he talked to me-“

“Did he now?” he asked, putting a little less pressure on.

No.“Yes – he was talking to me – about you – and he said-“ While they were trying to think what a fictional Ra’ae would have said about Maldl, their other hand scrabbled in the backpack, looking for – where was it? – there.

“What did he say?!” he almost screamed at them, pressing the sword once more into their neck. “Tell me nowor you die!”

“He – he said-“ In one movement, they pulled their hand out of the backpack and threw what they had managed to grab at Maldl. The Molotov, though it wasn’t lit, was still a fragile glass bottle full of liquid. It shattered in a burst of glass shards and alcohol, sending him reeling back, almost dropping the sword as he clawed at his face.

They didn’t wait. Closing their fingers around one of the knives, they lunged at Maldl and buried it in his upper arm. He screamed in pain, but they still twisted the knife, burying it deeper until they saw a glint of gold and copper instead of the silver knife. A flick of the blade, and the small computer chip was out.

Maldl was still fighting, though, and he managed to backhand Kjiersten with the butt of the sword. They managed to stay upright, but it gave him the time he needed to clear the blood, glass, and alcohol from his face. If he had been murderous before, they thought distantly, now he was pushing the verge of madness. His eyes gleamed with a burning light through the mess of cuts and bruises, and his mouth was twisted into a snarl.

“Now-“ they started, but he cut them off. With an incoherent scream of rage, he threw himself towards Kjiersten, who only barely managed to dodge in time. They dropped the knife, leaving themselves with only the mace – a knife wouldn’t help against this kind of fighting. No more time to think as Maldl barreled towards him again, sword whistling in a deadly arc.

Think – what could they use? They weren’t more experienced fighters than Maldl, not even in his state of unthinking rage. So they had to be smarter. He had brute strength on his side, but he wasn’t using it as well as he could have. So how could they use that to their advantage?

The first thought that came to their mind was leverage. Their mace was heavier than his sword, and with the way he was swinging it…They waited for Maldl to take a particularly vicious swipe, bringing the sword in from the left. Then, gritting their teeth and knowing that there were about a hundred ways this could go wrong, they stepped betweenhim and the blade, using the mace and the weight of their body to twist the sword from his hands.

Maldl tried to step back and recover, but Kjiersten didn’t let him. This might be their only chance, and they didn’t want to let it slip away now. They wrenched the mace up and over and slammed it into his head. As they had brought it down, though, they had let their fingers slip down the handle to the point where only the handle, and not the spiked end, had slammed into his head. He was unconscious, cut and bloody, but he was alive. The Games were not going to claim another victim.

He looked terrible, though – crumpled on the ground, with his face covered in blood. His arm looked a mess, and they hoped they hadn’t damaged anything while they were trying to cut the tracker out. But it was necessary – Maldl had to both look dead and act dead, and they didn’t think he would have done either of those willingly.

After just a few minutes, a silvery-grey hovercraft descended from the sky. They knew they should get out of the way, but they had a question they needed to ask. The pilot, who they recognized as one of the mentors, emerged from the ship to pick up Maldl, and shook his head. “You should get out of here,” he said. “Dangerous for you to be seen too close.”

“Wait – please,” they said, raising their hands in a pleading gesture. “I just need to know – is Ra’ae really dead? Did that explosive really kill him?”

The pilot was silent for a second. “I don’t know,” he said. “It wasn’t one of ours which picked him up – it was a genuine Capitol hovercraft. How they got there before us, I don’t know. So Ra’ae might be alive, just in the Capitol’s custody. We’re thinking of mounting a mission to get inside – possibly with the help of your Connection Project – and seeing if we can find him. You’ll be updated as things happen.”

They nodded. “Thank you.” The pilot saluted, and turned back to the craft with Maldl’s limp form in tow. Kjiersten watched as the hovercraft lifted off again, engines rotating back to horizontal once the ship had cleared the trees.

It was over. They had won the Hunger Games. Almost all of the tributes from this Games had been rescued – a greater percentage than they’d ever managed before. They were people who would be able to build or continue their lives back home, or join the rebellion and help to build better lives for everybody.

It should have been an achievement. They should have felt proud – after all, winning the Games was almost the ultimate status symbol in Panem. But it felt like a hollow victory. It felt like they had failed the people they were supposed to be protecting.

Just one, he thought miserably. One tribute. One out of the six. Five others got rescued. That’s a pretty good percentage, isn’t it?

No. Because it’s one tribute who I failed. Who’s not going to get back to their family. Who’s not going to be able to live the life they could have had. And that’s the problem here. Rescuing tributes from the Games is just treating the symptoms. The Capitol needs to fall for any of this to be worth it.

But you did the best you could. You couldn’t have known that the explosive would have been modified.

I could have checked. Because there’s no room for ‘good enough’ in engineering and there’s no room for it here. I should have done better.

It’s too late now, isn’t it?

No .Because it wasn’t over yet. There was still the messy business of revolution to come, and they would need people to help, to protect those who were trying to make the world better. They’d been hesitant, before, about committing the resources of the Connection Project to the revolution. But the revolution would need it. And now they knew what the others had been through. How they’d suffered just to stay alive. And as they stood there, hovercraft long vanished into the clear blue sky, they promised themselves that nobody else – not a single person– would have to go through it again.

A note: Transcript of each of the messages in Day 19:

Kjiersten: Listen. Message. Reply [to acknowledge] with one arrow east. [arrow is shot east] Kjiersten: Hunger Games end. Today or tomorrow. Or the Capitol will send something. Yes or no? Maldl: Understood Kjiersten: Ra’ae. Explosive at the northwest corner [of the forest]. Set it off and remove your tracker. Hovercraft will pick you up. Do you acknowledge? Ra’ae: Acknowledged Kjiersten: Maldl. Tomorrow. Here. Fight so the Capitol won’t suspect anything. Figure out who survives there. Do you acknowledge? Maldl: Acknowledged.

#writeblr hunger games #hg: kjiersten #but i like it #sorry if i got either of your characters wrong #but here it is #kjiersten as a revolutionary #bonus rebellion material #is that the right tag?#i hope so

8 notes · View notes

abovethesmokestacks · 6 years

Text

Bonfire Heart (1/2)

Title: Bonfire Heart Pairing: alpha!Hal Carter x omega!reader Characters: Hal Carter, reader, unnamed parents for reader Rating: this chapter is sfw, but the next part will be nsfw Word count: 5.3k

Inspired by an anonymous ask sent to @bucky-plums-barnes. I was fortunate to be allowed to write a fic for it, and I apologize for taking so long, and for getting so carried away it turned into a multipart story. I am a wordy bitch who apparently loves build-up more than anything, sue me. Huge thanks to my weird sisters Brooke, Eris and Kati for input and patiently listening to me bitch and moan through writer’s block and more than a little despair.

It’s a rare occurrence getting drifters passing through the pack. Most often, it’s Betas or Omegas travelling through the pack’s turf, and then it’s only for a night, a few days tops. Even rarer are the Alphas that come through looking for a place to stay for a while. It creates tension, an Alpha stranger most often means a challenger, someone seeking to take over.

Not Hal.

There’s no mistaking his presentation when he arrives, duffel hanging jauntily off his shoulder, his scent pulling at you, begging for you when he passes you by in search of the pack Alpha. It’s intoxicating, warm and woodsy, a bonfire at night. Hidden underneath is an undertone of engine oil, sharp in contrast but perfectly balanced. You almost miss the way his nose twitches, how his eyes flit around before they land on you, the quick smile before being pulled back when your pack alpha calls for his attention.

Later, you hear a few of the other omegas titter about the handsome Alpha, how he’s gonna be staying, helping out, how he’s been offered a place on the outskirts.

“They wanna be sure he doesn’t try anything.”

“He can try me whenever he wants to!”

“You have no shame!”

“As if you wouldn’t present for him!”

It makes jealousy flare up in you, sudden and followed by shame and defeat as you turn on your heel to hurry home. There’s no reason for the sudden spike in your emotions. He’s barely laid eyes on you, and in comparison to the giggling omegas, you’re far from the grand prize. Your parents keep expecting you to find someone, if not a mate, then at least a heat partner, nursing some small hope that an arrangement would spark something more. You tell them you’re fine on your own, the suppressants take the edge off, too self-conscious and scared to voice your fear that maybe you’ll never find anyone.

Coming home, you’re all but equipped with your own personal rain cloud over your head. You’re ready to call it a day, to trudge into your room and torture yourself with silly daydreams. His scent still lingers in your nose, teasing you with scenarios that could easily turn your defeat to desire. You’re surprised to find your father home already, rummaging through the linen closet, picking out towels and sheets.

“Dad?”

“Peanut!” You scrunched your nose at the name, managing to disguise it as a smile. “Didn’t think you’d be home already.”

Of course he didn’t. Nodding to the stack in his arms, you deflect the attention, “What’s going on? Are we having guests over?”

“Sort of,” you father replies, turning back to reach for the stack of pillow cases. “Got a visitor passing through, needed a place to stay, some work. Told the Alpha the boy could stay in our cabin, do a couple of odd jobs for me if he was okay with it. Seemed a decent enough fella.”

Your heart skips a beat. The new Alpha would live in your family’s cabin? It’s a small, modest thing, more of a shack that has been used as everything as an escape for rutting alphas to hunting trips. During your early teenage years, you and your friends would sometimes have sleepovers there, pushing the narrow beds together and build a messy nest that you’d cosy down in and play silly games and tell each other horror stories that had all of you sleeping with one eye open. Now he would be there.

“Peanut?”

“Hmm?” You look up, finding your father looking at you, holding out the stack in his arms.

“I said, would you mind coming with me? No one’s been in that cabin for a while, we might need to fix up a coupla things.”

Come with? Possibly see the handsome Alpha again? Containing your excitement is hard, but you manage a small nod, taking the bedding and the towels to put them in a bag. The cupboard is right outside your bedroom, and when you pull out a suitably-sized bag for the bedding, you see your own bed, made up with all the fluffy pillows and blankets. You worry your lower lip. The cabin has the bare essentials. Small kitchen with a mini fridge. Cots, a couple of scratchy blankets and, in your memory, the lumpiest pillows in existence. Last time you and your friends had gone there, you’d brought your own.

You hesitate only for a second, glancing over your shoulder to make sure the coast is clear before ducking into your room, pulling one of the pillows from your bed and stuffing it in the bottom of the bag, piling on the sheets and pillowcases and towels to hide it, as if you were smuggling forbidden contraband. Your heart thunders when your father calls you from the other end of the house, asking if you’re ready. Clutching the bag tightly, you hurry out, climbing into the pickup, your breath catching when you’re asked to shift to the back of the cab.

“Promised we’d pick him up, can’t have him cramming into that tight space, Peanut,” your father jokes, and it’s all you can do to force a strained chuckle across your lips.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Your father is there, you will have to restrain yourself. No, it won’t be so bad.

It’s downright horrible.

He’s so amicable, all pleases and thank you’s when he talks to your father, all too happy to show deference to a Beta and follow his lead. His face lights up, or so you imagine, scent mellowing when he spots you in the car, holding out his hand for you to shake when your father introduces you.

“Hal Carter, miss, how do you do? Hope I didn’t put you out too much having you tag along like this.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you demurely assure him it’s no trouble, none at all. Mercifully, your father takes charge of the conversation, allowing you to sit back and bask in the Alpha’s pleasant scent, listening to him answer your father’s questions. He’s just passing through, not sure for how long, but he’s real grateful for the roof over his head and the opportunity to help out wherever needed. He hasn’t really got a pack, never did find one where he felt he fit in, he can understand people are being suspicious. The car jostles, a bump in the small road sending you hurtling forward, bracing yourself on Hal’s shoulder. A hand comes up to cover yours, warm and with a steady grasp.

“You all right there, miss?” Hal’s looking at you, worry mixing with curiosity in his blue eyes.

A nod is all you manage, suddenly so close to him, his scent strong in your nostrils even though he clearly tries to tone it down, and suddenly you’re thankful you’ve already had your Heat. If he’s this intoxicating, suppressants might not matter much.

“You okay there, Peanut?” Your father, gods, you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for making you flinch away from Hal. “Better hold on, you know this road ain’t getting any better.”

Of course you know. You’ve travelled it enough times before, but now there’s a handsome Alpha in the same, confined space who smells delicious and the little cabin can’t come into view fast enough. By the time your father pulls up on the narrow driveway, you’re ready to claw your way out the back window.

“There you have it, son. It’s not much, but should keep you warm.”

He keeps talking to Hal, pointing and telling him just where to find the firewood and the kindling and where to meet up for the logging work tomorrow, all while your nerves are firing you and telling you to either jump out the window or jump Hal. It’s a sweet relief when the doors finally open, letting in a waft of fresh air. Your relief, however, is shortlived. The passenger seat is pulled forward, a tanned hand reaching in to help you out.

“Miss?”

You swallow, a wobbly smile on your lips while you climb out, pulling the bag behind you. Hal, insists on carrying it, despite your protests that it’s neither heavy, nor a nuisance for you. Something sparks low in your stomach when he tells you he wouldn’t be much of an Alpha, even less of a gentleman if he let such a pretty and gracious Omega carry a bag that should rightfully rest on his shoulder.

“I hope you don’t mind being a bit isolated like this,” your father interjects.

It is isolated, almost to the point where you wonder if it’s not excessively so.

“Not that there’s much happening around here, pretty quiet town,” he continues with a little chortle. “I’m sure you could hitch a ride back downtown for the weekends for the bars and dances if that’s your kinda thing…”

“I appreciate the offer, sir. Don’t wanna put you out more than I already have,” Hal replies diplomatically, swaying on the heels of his boots.

“It’s nothing, son, nothing at all.” That’s your father, the typical Beta, a great equalizer. “Now, there is a mini fridge inside, but it’s precious more than something to store drinks and maybe something small. I’ll get you the generator tomorrow so you can fire it up. You’ll get lunch at work, but unless you’re good with a wood burner, there’s not a lot of opportunity to fix an extravagant dinner.”

“As long as I get coffee, I’ll be fine, sir. Maybe I could trouble you to take me into town tomorrow so I can buy myself some food?”

“Oh, of course, of course! You might even find some coffee grounds in there. I’ve got you a coupla jugs of water on the flatbed, should see you through the next few days…”

Your father falls silent, his eyes flicking from Hal to you and back, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips. Hal might miss it, but you know your father. He’s up to something.

“Say, my wife is one helluva cook. Makes the best mac’n’cheese you’ll ever taste. She cooks like it’s going out of style, you’d think we were feeding a whole platoon.”

Oh god.

Hal, bless his heart, hasn’t caught on, but you’re trying to stare panicky daggers at your scheming father.

“We could set aside a decent serving for you, Peanut here could bring it out for you in the afternoons.”

You both break into protest, you because it is so transparent and regardless of your feelings for the Alpha this was just blatantly pushy, and Hal because it would be another imposition. Hearing each other, you then turn to argue against your points, only for the whole thing to end with your father getting his way. Fifteen minutes later you leave, all of the supplies you’d brought unpacked, convinced Hal would be okay for the night.

“Dad…” you sigh, glaring at him and his pleased little smile.

“I did nothing!” He holds up his hands in defeat for a moment, quickly grabbing the wheel again when a bump in the road veers the car to the side. “I just thought you might like each other’s company! He’s a fine young alpha, polite as ever. We’re just being good hosts.”

You grumble under your breath, trying to fight the smug curling in your stomach, your wolf purring in agreement. Such a handsome man, a fine alpha indeed… Clenching your teeth, you push the thoughts away, trying to replace them with your father’s poor excuse. You’re being a good host. It’ll be fine. It’s just taking dinner to him. Five minutes of conversation, if that. You’ll be fine.

You’re not fine. Your knuckles pale as they grip the plastic container of meatloaf, mash and greens. Hal has swung the door open following your timid knock, jeans deliciously low-slung on his hips, a smudged wifebeater hanging from his hand. He is so gloriously Alpha, the scent strong now, a forest fire setting your instincts aflame as you try not to stare at his chiseled torso, the tanned skin and the small patch of hair, barely noticeable against his complexion, leading down and into his jeans.

“Oh, pardon me, miss, I just- It was-“

His eyes darken just a little, and you realize you must be projecting your desire, bringing a dark flush to your cheeks. You’re better than this, you berate yourself, you can keep your feelings in check. Hal swallows thickly, turning around and mumbling to just wait a second. He returns moments later with a clean shirt on, his scent muted once again, but his gaze never meets yours for longer than a fraction. When you hold out his dinner for him, he does his best to avoid touching, fingers gripping along the edges.

“Are… Did you sleep okay?” you flounder, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, desperate to restore some semblance of equilibrium.

Hal nods, offering a little hum in affirmation. The silence is suffocating, making you wish that you’d arrived later, or earlier, or maybe not at all. Mumbling your farewell, you walk back to the truck, feeling your stomach sink with every step. It’s a dreadful heaviness that pulls at every insecurity in you. Why would you ever entertain the thought that you could catch his attention? Why would your father ever think this stupid plan would work? Why would Hal ever look at you the way you want him to? You’re not the kind of Omega who turns heads wherever she goes.

“Miss?”

You’re seated by the wheel when he calls out, and though you want nothing more than to rev the engine and drive off, you can’t resist the pull of his voice, soft and sounding almost remorseful. Hal has followed you, still standing a respectable distance from you with the lid popped on the container. There’s a tentative smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Dinner smells delicious.”

Your cheeks heat up again, a silly response to a compliment that isn’t even truly directed at you. Still. It eases the churning glumness, makes breathing easier, your smile almost sincere.

“I’ll be sure to let my mother know.”

You turn the key in the ignition, the truck roaring to life before settling to an idle purr while you shift into reverse and check your sightlines. He moves quickly, one second keeping his distance, the next rushing to the driver side window, the closeness buzzing like a living thing between you.

“Thank you for bringing it out here.” His voice is soft smoke and warmth on a cold night, wrapping itself around your insecurities to hush them down. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

You nod, nostrils flaring as his scent spikes just a touch. Satisfied with your answer, Hal backs away, allowing you to reverse and drive off. Your stomach refuses to settle, your mind replaying his question over and over as you burrow into your nest that night.

Will I see you tomorrow?

You see him again. And again. And again. Each trip into the forest makes the awkwardness of that first dinner delivery slowly dissipate. By the second week, there’s an easy smile gracing his features as he comes to greet you. Conversations starts flowing beyond pleasantries, Hal all too eager to listen to your tales no matter the topic, laughing and asking questions in the right places.

And always,

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay, miss? I swear, your mother must think me an insatiable beast, there’s plenty for both of us.”

Every day, you coyly beg off, sometimes even managing to hide the blush at being asked. Every day, Hal will give a laugh, mumble “more for me then I s’pose” and walk you to the truck. And every day, you imagine your parents looking a little disappointed to see you home so soon.

Some days, when your father tarries, and it means Hal will be back late too, your mother sends you off to leave dinner for the alpha. These days, you bring something extra. It won’t do to leave the food outside, and even though you feel like you’re intruding, you bring the spare key to the cabin, sneaking in to leave dinner in the mini fridge. When he gets home, he’ll find food ready to reheat, and a little something to make up for the missed opportunity to spend time together. Flowers waiting in a tin cup on the small table. A parcel of cookies next to the boxed lunch. A book you had told him about. The first time, you feared he would be upset you had gone into his den without express permission. But then, the next day, he greeted you just as warmly, a daisy from your little bouquet tucked behind his ear.

It’s a strange companionship that you try not to linger on too much. Of course you still think he’s handsome. Your heart still stutters when he opens the door, shirt unbuttoned and all that gorgeous skin on display. Warmth still blooms in your chest every time you feel his light touch on the small of your back when he follows you back to the truck. Your tummy does a flip every time he’ll playfully call you “omega” when you talk.

But if you linger-

If you think about it too much, it starts feeling like courtship. His touches start feeling like they’re aching for more, and you would be all too happy to allow them. Calling you by your presentation will make your stomach swoop, a liquid pull teasing at scenarios you scarcely dare dream about.

You try not to linger, but you can’t deny the fact that you now long for the ride out to the cabin, for the time you get to spend with him. It makes a smug little flame flare in you when you hear other omegas titter and fawn over him, having seen him briefly in town over the weekends and gotten a smile and a polite “hello”. It’s a greedy, possessive monster that never gloats openly, simply feeding your addiction, thinking about how you will see him tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and the day-

“Sweetheart, why don’t I take dinner duty tonight?”

The suggestion has your head whipping around, the lid for the container dropping from your hands. Your mother’s voice is calm, her body language easy and open where she stands. It still raises your suspicions. For weeks now, they have been all too happy with the arrangement, what’s changed now?

“It’s okay, I can do it,” you reply, keeping your voice neutral. Two can play this game.

“We don’t wanna put you out, darling. Besides, you’ve been driving out there every day for a while now. You deserve a break. A little time to yourself.”

In the end, she is your mother, and well, she’s right. You begrudgingly hand over the container, telling her to send Hal your regards and that you’ll see him tomorrow. Her smile is a bit tight around the edges, a curious thing that you don’t understand until the next day, when you’re once again coaxed into staying home. It’s never said, but you still understand.

You’re not kept home to give you a rest. You’re kept home because Hal has gone into his Rut.

It claws at that raging part of you that has come to crave and love his company. You want to be there, should be there. It throws grand and foolish scenarios at you of sneaking out at night, taking the truck and driving out there, rosetinted dreams of helping him out. It tugs at dreams of being claimed, of not being alone anymore.

It tugs and tugs, never succeeding, tempered by your own self-deprecation and the tension around your mother’s eyes that she almost manages to hide when she gets home. Biting down, you tell yourself it’s only temporary. Your parents don’t want to put you in unnecessary danger. It’ll only be a few more days.

When days turn into a week, you start to worry. Hal should be okay now, his Rut would have ended days ago even if it was a long one. Your nerves spike every day, sinking low into your stomach when your mother once again bids you goodbye and drives off. You can’t help wondering if you’d done something wrong, something to deter him? Should you have defied your parents and still gone out to see him?

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that one day you almost miss your mother calling your attention.

“Sweetheart? You better hurry up, or that poor man will starve.”

Furrowing your brow, you look over your shoulder, finding your mother holding out a familiar container. “Mom?”

“I believe he’s expecting you.”

You don’t want to boast, but you’re pretty sure you broke some kind of speeding record driving out to the cabin, only slowing down as you turned onto the narrow trail that led up to it. He’s waiting, and for a moment, the greedy thing insides you turns joyous and elated, wanting to run up to him and jump into his arms and bask in that wonderful smile for days. Reining yourself in feels like pulling at the leash of your wolf, the whining it gives reverberating through you.

Hal doesn’t seem to have the same reservations. He sits down on the small porch, patting the space next to you and scoots in as close as he can when you join him. When he asks you if you would join him, courteous as ever, your resolve crumbles. So used to your polite declines, it takes Hal a few seconds to realize you finally said yes, nearly stumbling over himself to get plates and forks and drinks.

“I’m… sorry for… for last week,” he offers between bites of casserole, eyes seeking out yours.

“It’s okay, I understand.” You keep your gaze on the food, poking it around and trying to stay calm.

“No, I-” The consternated exhale pulls at your curiosity, and you look up in time to see him set down his fork. “I wanted to be sure.”

“Sure? What are you talking about, Hal?”

Without a word, he gets up, enters the cabin only to return a few seconds later with ripped shreds of fabric. Handing it to you, it takes you all of two seconds to recognize the delicate pattern, the faint scent of yourself that still lingered. The pillow you’d hidden away for him.

“It… took a few hits. Your scent, it’s… I thought because I’d seen you so much that it wouldn’t be a problem. I ripped this one the eve of the first day. I came in for my shift only to tell your daddy I would be out for the rest of the week, that it would be best if you didn’t bring me dinner. I missed you so much, omega, thought I’d go mad. I asked your mama to come a few extra days after it ended just to be sure I wouldn’t… that you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Separately, you understand each and every word, but put together, they spell a truth you can’t quite fathom. He wanted you safe, so he made sure that he was completely out of his Rut before asking you to resume your visits. He missed you. He missed you.

“…I’m only sad that we’ll have to do this again soon.”

You’ve missed a large chunk of the conversation, but even so, Hal’s last statement confounds you.

“We will?” Three months isn’t that soon, is it?

Hal gives a shy smile, picking a little at his food. “Yeah, when you- when it’s your time? It’s- Isn’t that… soon?”

He’s adorable when he’s flustered, and you can’t help but flush a little yourself. Speaking about Ruts and Heats isn’t exactly the most polite and obvious of topics, especially between unmated alphas and omegas without a partner arrangement. You pick at your nails, stomach fluttering at the idea of talking about this with him.

“Well, not really…” you begin, noticing Hal furrowing his brow.

“No?” He sniffs discreetly, your pulse racing minutely. “I could swear it’s coming. Is it not for another month?”

You blush in earnest now, the fact that Hal is trying to determine the exact arrival of your Heat setting a dull ache thudding low in your stomach. He’s looking at you like your scent and your very being is a puzzle to be solved, waiting patiently for your answer.

“It’s…” You bite your lower lip. “It’s not really going to come. Suppressants.”

The penny drops, Hal’s expression softening into quiet realization. “Why? I mean, I know it’s none’a my business, but you… You’re lovely, and- and kind, and I’m frankly amazed you keep coming out to me like this day after day. I’d’ve thought the other alphas here would be tripping all over themselves for your favour.”

“No. No, I…” It doesn’t matter that it’s Hal, that it’s this sweet man sitting next to you, embarrassment still burns through you having to admit this. “I’ve never had a partnered Heat. Thought I was gonna claw myself to death the first time. No one’s ever been tripping over themselves to even ask for a date, let alone… that.”

“Now that’s just a damn shame. I should be so low on your list of priorities because I can’t imagine someone so sweet wouldn’t be otherwise preoccupied most every weekend.” A smile tugged at his mouth, growing until he looked like the embodiment of sunshine. “Though I suppose their loss is my gain.”

“I’m sorry?”

Setting down his fork, he makes a big show of getting up, one arm behind his back, the other held out for you. Your stomach flips at his movements, his scent wafting in towards you when he leans down. What is he-

“I can’t treat you to a fancy restaurant, but if you’ll have me, I’d love to take you out.”

You hate that your first instinct is to turn him down, to wonder who set him up to prank you, to pull away because if he’s asking you out then there can only be one reason why. It sets something bubbling inside you, uneasy and gnawing. He’s handsome, he could have anyone. Discreetly, you draw a slow breath, tasting the air for any sign of lingering Rut scent. Nothing, just the soothing scent you have come to love and long for, fading back ever so slightly.

“I don’t expect anything from ya, scout’s honor.”

Hal, it seems, is more perceptive than one would think. His scent is still muted, pleasant, not moving an inch to let you see exactly where you have him. It’s so tempting, the notion of being courted by an Alpha - by this Alpha - when the other omegas are falling all over themselves whenever he’s been in town. The gnawing worry in the pit of your stomach taunts you that it’s not a courting, not like what you’ve seen, what you’ve come to expect. He is asking you out on a date. His request tastes a little like pity, but the hungry thing inside you twists and turns and longs for the satisfaction of being his company.

“Then… I suppose it would be rude of me to turn you down,” you reply coyly, taking his hand and pressing it gently.

Like other alphas, he runs hot, but the warmth is pleasant against your skin. The palm of his hand is lightly calloused from long hours of hard labour, yet when he strokes over your knuckle with his thumb, it’s with a touch so light it sends shivers down your spine.

“Not at all, miss,” he all but husks out, a sweet little smile lighting up his features. “But I’ll be very happy if you’ll allow me to take you out.”

When you leave, it’s with butterflies in your stomach and a time and place set for tomorrow. It made his scent flare just a bit walking you to the truck, saying his usual goodbye like it now means something more. It has you driving just a little more reckless, giddiness bubbling through you. Your mother notices, of course, and you can’t even bring yourself to berate her for the smug expression on her face when you turn down dinner with the excuse, “I already ate.” as you bound up the stairs to your room.

In there, time moves slow, inching forward as slow as molasses in January. Every tick of the clock is sluggish, no matter how you try to ignore it or make time pass. Picking out a pretty dress to wear takes unusually little time, try as you might to drag it out by trying it on, complete with your prettiest garters and silkiest stockings, taking careful steps in your one good pair of heels. You play around with your hair, pick through your makeup box. No matter. Time doesn’t move any quicker just because you try to make it. Seconds tick by just as rhythmically as they’ve always done; a countdown of immeasurable quantity.

It makes sure you feel it, the width and length of it in the wee hours of the night when your eyes refuse to grow heavy and sleep evades you. It lingers in the hours leading up to your date, in the small menial errands you run and the chores you do. You’re dressed and primped with an hour to spare, and even with your slowest walk, you’d still be in town well ahead of time. Your father offers to give you a ride, adding more waiting to your deteriorating patience, but you still accept.

“Knock him dead, Peanut,” he tells you with a smile, pressing your hand in his before you exit the truck.

You give him a weak nod in return, waving him goodbye from the sidewalk. Knock him dead. It makes insecurity flicker to life again, swirling through you and setting your hands shaking. Knock him dead. As if you could. You walk the short distance to the meeting point, politely greeting friends and acquaintances when they pass you, trying to ignore the long glances as you wait. The tables have turned now, and time rushes, seconds slipping by you while you wait. Isn’t he coming? What time is it? Shouldn’t Hal be here by now? What if-

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, my ride got a flat tire, and we had to ch-”

Hal fall silent when you turn around, coming to an abrupt halt a couple of feet away. He looks dashing dressed up, a blue shirt tucked into darkwash jeans, sleeves rolled up to show tanned arms and the same almost-invisible smattering of hair you’d peeked during that first meeting. His hair is combed back, an errant curl hanging down his forehead that he tries to brush back stubbornly refusing to stay in place.

“Hal?”

“You… you look stunning, miss.”

Flustered, your gaze drops, fists clenching the material of the dress. Biting down, you refuse to voice any of the protests, fighting to accept his compliment. You do look good. Hal would never say such a thing just for the sake of saying it. You look good. Slowly, you raise your head, meeting his gaze and offering a trembling smile. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon, arms clasped behind his back.

“I could say the same thing about you,” you offer in return, surprised that your voice carries so evenly.

Hal smiles bashfully, holding a hand for you, “I tried my best,” he tells you, finding his way back to his usual charm as you hook your arm with his. “I believe we have a date, omega.”

Shivers roll down your spine hearing your presentation. “I believe we do.”

The warmth of him, the public display of desiring your company makes something flare in your stomach, further fueled by the poorly suppressed whispers of your omega acquaintances when they see you walk through town. You realize when you walk into the movie theater, sitting down and still holding his hand, that you want to call him yours. Glancing over at him while the screen flickers to life, your eyes lock, and your wolf claws at you.

You want him.

@loup-malin, @ursulaismymiddlename, @brookebarnes, @erisjade, @bakexprayxlove, @callamint, @mrshopkirk, @hellomissmabel, @ceebeetumbles, @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel, @lenia1d, @andhiseyesweregreen, @basicallyericharris, @thatgirlsar, @bubblebathsandsarcasm, @amrita31199, @netflixa, @rockintensse, @marvelrevival, @writemarvelousthings, @gallifreyansass, @allyallyally-oh, @shy2shot, @angryschnauzer, @engineeringgirlcve, @hellstempermentalangel, @whyisbuckyso, @melconnor2007, @impalaimages, @superwholocknda, @shifutheshihtzu, @hennessy0274-blog, @kanupps06

@avengerofyourheart, @booksandshowsandmovies-ohmy, @themcuhasruinedme, @creideamhgradochas, @feepsmoothie, @nuvoleincielo, @wellfuckbuck, @rotisserierogers, @sarahsassafras13, @romanosgirl1978, @rrwilson66

#hal carter x reader #alpha!hal x omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #picnic fanfiction #hal carter fanfiction #fic: bonfire heart

446 notes · View notes

kuriquinn · 7 years

Text

House Upon A Rock

Summary: She sort of considers herself the last resort, the one to pull him through; it never really occurs to her that she’s the one that could fall. [SasuSakuMonth2017 - Day 4 - Prompt: “Lean On Me”]

Disclaimer: This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author’s own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. An annoyed jonin will abandon you to the elements if you are found plagiarising.

Warning: Original Character (Manako Inuzuka) in one scene

Canon-Compliance: As close to canon as fanfiction can possibly be. With a few personal additions :P Takes place during Part I, genin-era.

Beta-Reader: My own two eyes and editing software, but I’m working on it!

一

The first time it happens is two weeks after Team 7’s mission in the Land of Waves.

A C-rank security detail (on a squash-farm of all things!) fast becomes a B-rank when the nearest competitor hires former mercenaries to sabotage their client. It’s an easy take-down, Sakura thinks at first, especially compared to what they faced with Zabuza Momochi and Haku. Between Kakashi and Sasuke, it’s the work of minutes to quash the saboteurs, and with Naruto’s blustery lecture about teamwork and respect, everything seems to go well.

But then Sasuke passes out.

Sakura only just makes it in time to keep his head from hitting the rock-littered terrain. “Sasuke!”

“What’s going on? What happened?” Naruto cries, looking around like he expects another attack.

Kakashi remains calm, however.

“It’s the strain of his Sharingan,” Kakashi explains. “While he gets used to it, Sasuke will experience certain side-effects. He’ll wake up soon.”

Under normal circumstances, they would stay the night or at least until Sasuke was awake and strong enough to walk again. But it turns out the mercenary captain has information on someone in Kakashi’s Bingo Book. He insists he’ll only speak to the Hokage, and so they have to get him to Konoha as soon as possible. With Kakashi’s hands full, Naruto is the next strongest on their team to act as his back-up; this leaves Sakura caring for the unconscious Sasuke.

Not that she minds—at first she even entertains herself with fantasies of nursing him back to health and him being forever grateful and asking her out as a reward.

But the two-hour trek back to Konoha erases any sense of romance she might imagine.

Sasuke is much heavier than Sakura, and after exerting himself against the mercenaries, he smells, too.

Not that I can talk, she thinks as she strains and sweats in desperation beneath the dead weight on her back. I’m going to need to shower for a week to get the smell of fertiliser off my skin!

But she doesn’t complain the entire way back home.

By the time Sasuke wakes up and pulls away from her, she’s too exhausted to even care if she looks sweaty and dishevelled in front of him. In fact, for the first time, she experiences a little more annoyance than hurt that he can’t even manage a proper thank you before slouching off. He shoves at Naruto when the other boy teases him for passing out.

Boys, she thinks in exasperation.

二

The next three days, Sakura’s entire body feels like one giant bruise. Every muscle and tendon throbs at her in reproach for having carried such a heavy load for so long. Ino says she looks like a bunraku puppet hobbling around. Sakura doesn’t even have the energy to retort ( “At least my face doesn’t look like a kabuki monster!” ) before limping away to run her errands for the week.

And pick up more medicinal balm.

While restocking her supply of explosive tags at the village surplus store, Manako Inuzuka takes one look at her and snorts.

“Someone hasn’t been keeping up with their training,” she singsongs, as she undoes the wrapper on a chew of bubble gum and tosses it in her mouth.

“What would you know about it?” Sakura snaps, aching muscles contributing to an already bad mood.

How dare a drop-out like the Manako comment on her training? She has been working hard, ever since the Land of Waves.

Sakura’s worst nightmare is becoming caught unawares like that again, and just sitting by while everyone else is useful. She’s since been improving her genjutsu and ninjutsu abilities. She’s gotten excellent at Kawamiri and, okay, so she hasn’t had time to work on her taijutsu yet, but she is trying!

The Inuzuka woman considers her, unruffled. “Kid, I was in your exact situation when I was your age: I had a Sharingan and an idiot on my team, too. Guess who always ended up lugging those two home at the end of the day?”

Sakura’s irritation fades, and she stares up at the woman in awe.

That’s right. Manako was around when Sasuke’s family was still alive. She actually knew other Uchiha.

“So, what’d you do?” she asks.

“Besides mark up their faces and take pictures of it while they were unconscious?” the woman remarks, earning a scowl from Sakura. “I trained for it.”

“Trained for it?”

“Is there an echo in here? That’s what I just said. And what you need to work on. Unless you want to throw out your back before you even reach thirty, you need to exercise your body. You need to plan because nine missions out of ten, you’ll end up lugging an unconscious teenaged boy back to the village.” She studies Sakura again, sharp eyes roving over her in a critical manner that she doesn’t appreciate. Manako snaps her gum in her mouth. “Then again, you’re kind of tiny. Maybe it’s just not in you.”

Sakura splutters at this, too indignant to form a reply.

“Here,” Manako continues, sliding over a package of smoke bombs.

“I don’t need smoke bombs,” Sakura tells her tightly.

“They’re not for you,” Manako sneers back. “They’re for your Sharingan idiot. Give them to him when you see him next, it saves me a delivery.”

Sakura makes a face. “But don’t you make money delivering things?”

But Manako waves a dismissive hand and heads to the back of her shop, like she doesn’t hear her. Or as if the notion of making money isn’t important to her.

Sakura’s eye twitches.

How does she even still have a business? She is so weird.

三

Weird, but right, Sakura decides a week later when it inevitably happens again; at training, this time.

Sasuke pushes himself to keep his Sharingan active longer and longer, despite Kakashi’s warnings to keep it simple. Eventually he tries a genjutsu on Naruto, succeeding in knocking the other boy out—and then keels over backwards himself a half-second later.

Again, Sakura skids into his path to keep him upright, while Kakashi kneels beside Naruto.

“At some point you kids will listen to me, right?” he asks, though she gets the sense he’s talking more to himself than to them. “You’ll have pretty short lives if you don’t start soon.” He picks up Naruto and addresses Sakura. “I’m going to take him to see the Hokage. Sharingan genjutsu can be tricky to break people out of.”

“But you have a Sharingan. Can’t you just undo it yourself?”

The visible part of Kakashi’s face twitches in an expression she can’t decipher—either caution or approval. “No. There’s another matter to deal with, and it’s easier to wrangle him there if he’s unconscious. You’ll see to Sasuke, right?” He glances at his other student and his eye crinkles in a smile beneath his mask. “Or leave him there. It would serve him right for not listening.”

Before Sakura can rush to defend Sasuke’s honour, Kakashi and Naruto disappear in a puff of smoke.

“Right…no problem,” she sighs, not hiding her dismay as she glances down at her charge.

Unconscious, he seems so relaxed, a contrast to how burdened he always seems when awake. She hates that he has to push himself so hard that he knocks himself out. Being an Uchiha always seemed so cool, and with his Sharingan, it seems like one day there won’t be anything he won’t be able to do. But she’s realising that having the kekkei genkai might not be the boon everyone thinks it is.

Naruto pushes himself too, of course, but for Sasuke, his desperation to succeed sometimes seems like it’s boiling within his very blood.

I wish I could help him, she thinks sadly as she crawls down beside him and struggles to bring him to his feet. But even if I did…there’s not much I can do…

So far, it appears like the only thing she’s capable of is sitting there while her teammates throw themselves into dangerous situations. And hoping there are still pieces left to collect at the end of the day.

Manako’s words ring in her head.

“You need to plan because nine missions out of ten, you’ll end up lugging an unconscious teenaged boy back to the village.”

The knowledge that Sasuke might end up unconscious again on her watch—not might, but will, considering how determined he is to master the Sharingan!— makes her steel herself. She has to support her teammates; if that’s all she can do, she’ll do it with the same determination and perfectionism she always gave to her school work.

四

Decision made, Sakura takes an analytical approach and considers their weaknesses—not just her teammates, but her instructor’s, too.

They are always pushing themselves to the limit, tiring themselves out. Sasuke trains himself to the point of unconsciousness, Kakashi has ended up confined to bed on at least one occasion and Naruto—well, he doesn’t have the best judgement. The idiot shoved a kunai through his hand for dramatic effect once; that alone suggests the kind of antics she’s in for in the future…

As for her weaknesses, she’s not as strong as the others. She doesn’t have Sasuke’s clan jutsu or Kakashi’s talent or Naruto’s indefatigable spirit. The only thing she has going for (she hopes) is a bit of common sense.

There’s no point to us succeeding at missions if they all just drop dead right afterward.

She isn’t sure quite where to start, and at first goes to her parents for help and suggestions. As usual, they are a little bemused, but supportive. Mama agrees to front her allowance for the next month so she can buy some exercise videos and weights. Papa helps her come up with a training regimen, offering helpful suggestions.

Time passes, and increasingly, without fail, Sakura ends up carrying Sasuke back home. Occasionally Naruto, as well, but he has a really weird tendency to throw off injuries like they’re nothing. Sasuke’s acclimation period seems to last longer, which he isn’t happy about.

He’s not too pleased about the carrying thing, either, judging from how fast he is at scrambling away from her and putting distance between them whenever he wakes. Even though Kakashi reminds him that a good shinobi knows when to accept help, he often gives her the cold shoulder for days afterward.

As if it’s my fault he keeps getting knocked out, she thinks angrily to herself.

Kakashi at least tries to make it easier on her, making Naruto carry him or doing it himself; but every third instance or so both boys get knocked out, and it’s up to their remaining squad members to care for them.

“Naruto’s probably lighter,” Kakashi points out the day of one such an instance, as Sakura is bent over the Uchiha boy’s unconscious form. “I can take Sasuke, if you want.”

“No, I can handle it,” Sakura says firmly. “I won’t get stronger if I always take the easy option.”

She thinks her sensei is smiling beneath his mask. “That’s true.”

He doesn’t discuss the matter again, even when she occasionally stumbles on their way back home. But he slows his stride so that she can catch up, hefting Sasuke’s heavy body against her back more securely.

Sasuke remains unconscious almost the whole way back to Konoha, but once they reach the gates, Sakura pauses and stays behind. She knows he doesn’t like to be seen having someone carry him, and if he wakes before they enter the village he can walk in himself. Kakashi, of course, has no interest in preserving anyone’s dignity, and marches through the gates with Naruto basically hanging off his back.

This time when Sasuke wakes, he seems angrier at himself for passing out than Sakura. She can’t help sympathising with him at that.

He puts so much pressure on himself…

“Don’t worry, Sasuke,” she tells him, offering him a comforting smile. “I’ll always be there to catch you, okay? So just keep working hard.”

He stares at her a long moment, looking uncharacteristically stunned, before his usual frown overtakes his features.

“You won’t need to,” he tells her. “I will not be weak like this forever.”

He turns to walk away.

“But Sasuke…” she begins, automatically reaching a comforting hand out before remembering herself and pulling back. “You’re already really strong.”

He pauses, tilting his head slightly as if to acknowledge her comment, but then mutters, “Perhaps by your standards.”

When he walks away this time, shoulders hunched, she doesn’t try to stop him. Instead, she sighs, and heads towards her own home.

He’s right.

She doesn’t know how to accurately judge someone’s strength, because she isn’t strong.

But I will be, she vows.

五

Sakura meets Chōji one day to ask for advice. He may be big, but she also knows from watching him train with Ino and Shikamaru that he is strong.

“Eat,” he tells her, over lunch at the Yakiniku Q (her treat, of course). “Food gives you energy, energy gives you strength. Protein’s always good—mmm!” He stuffs his face with beef from a skewer. “And never let anyone take the last helping of anything! They’re stealing your strength if they do!”

He tries to look fierce, but the effect is ruined by the beef juices running down his cheeks.

Sakura isn’t quite sure about the last bit. She thinks if she got in the way of Sasuke or Naruto’s fights for the last bit of rice she might lose a finger. But the advice is appreciated.

She eats more and stops trying the diets in her fashion magazines. She had mostly stopped after Kakashi’s bell test, but she’s still been more conscious of people judging her eating habits than she should be. Now she goes to the library to find books on healthy eating and how to build muscle mass and which foods help.

She also tries to boost her endurance by going jogging, often with a giant knapsack filled with the heaviest books she can find. It’s nothing to Sasuke’s weight, but she decides if she can get used to that it will at least help.

And slowly, it does.

As time goes on, the fainting incidents happen less and less.

Or perhaps they happen just as often and she just stops noting it because lifting her teammates stops being an effort. Even when they both start to get taller and heavier, her body seems to get stronger alongside them.

But even better than that, Sasuke no longer seems to have an issue when he wakes up draped across Sakura’s back on the way back to village.

One evening, she even gets a gruff, “I’m fine now,” and a nod before he pulls away from her.

It’s not a traditional thank you, but she’s learning that when it comes to Sasuke, nothing ever is.

六

Then the Chunin Exam and the attack on Konoha happen.

The Forest of Death and the mark on Sasuke’s neck; his burning fever and Sakura’s very real fear that he might die.

For the first time in her life, the idea of her own death doesn’t frighten her—not compared to the thought of losing him. She thinks she could face that disgusting snake shinobi’s killing intent a million times if it means Sasuke lives.

It’s as if a switch inside her flips, and it’s not just about being there to support him after he gets hurt. She has to protect him from ever being hurt again.

And so she throws herself at the three Oto-nin even though the odds are against her. A month later she faces down the giant, monstrous sand demon that is Gaara, and does anything she can to give Sasuke enough time to get away. If she will die, she’ll do so proving to Sasuke and everyone else—and herself—that she’s the best damn support system anyone could ask for.

But everyone lives, and suddenly there’s an unspoken acknowledgement of her ability to keep pace with them. Sasuke stops leaping in front of her to take attacks meant for her. She longer gets reminders from Kakashi to be careful during missions, and Naruto learns to be wary of her fists during sparring sessions. No one says anything, but their dynamic changes.

Not necessarily for the better, she soon learns.

The encounter with Gaara and the One-Tail haunts her nightmares, but not for the terror of that day. Something happened while she was unconscious, something that caused more tension between Sasuke and Naruto.

Something she might have been able to stop, if only she hadn’t been so damned weak and passed out.

Never again, she vows.

七

It’s a few days after Lord Third’s funeral.

Despite the tragedy, the village still has to continue assigning missions, but until a new Hokage is named, the jōnin level ninja are delegating the tasks amongst themselves. This leaves Kakashi too busy to go with them on any high-ranking missions, and so Team 7 is left to deal with the routine, mundane tasks.

Of course, their team is always a magnet for trouble. What starts off as a courier job in some civilian village three hours away becomes a race against time to stop a greedy mayor from demolishing a school. Greedy mayors are never without their bodyguards, and the team quickly becomes embroiled in an all-out fight to stop the school from being destroyed.

At the end of the day, the three of them are satisfied with their work, if a little exhausted and chakra-depleted. Naruto is fine, of course, and Sasuke is pretending that he isn’t utterly exhausted so that he can keep up with Naruto. And Sakura…

Has twisted her ankle rather painfully, but she has no intention of having her teammates making a fuss over her.

Once, she might have, but she has a reputation to maintain (even if it’s not as glamourous as her teammates’). If anyone hears about the pink-haired kunoichi from Konoha having to be carried home, it might make people question her abilities again.

Sometimes being a girl and a shinobi is a pain in the ass.

She keeps her mouth shut while they relay their successful mission to the faceless jōnin in charge of missions. When Naruto excitedly suggests grabbing dinner at Ichiraku’s, she declines with a little white lie about her parents expecting her. Both Naruto and Sasuke go blank-faced at that, and Sakura feels stupid. She’s always careful not to talk about her parents near her teammates, considering they’re both orphans. The pain is obscuring her thought process.

Sasuke doesn’t even bother with a farewell, heading toward the Uchiha district. A moment later Naruto mentions in a falsely bright tone that he will see if Iruka-sensei is anywhere nearby.

“He sometimes buys me dinner if I don’t piss him off too much,” he confides in her, all smiles again. “See you tomorrow, Sakura!”

And he takes off at a run.

“Bye,” she replies, before turning in the opposite directions. Her ankle gives a sharp, throbbing pain that demands a detour to the hospital—even if that detour is out of her way.

Two streets later, however, she has to stop walking.

Try as she might to direct the last vestiges of her chakra to stave off the swelling and relieve the pain, she’s completely tapped out.

Just great, she harangues herself as she leans against a nearby wall. I should get an award for awesome judgement…shannaro…

The hospital is still several blocks away, and she doesn’t know any of the people milling around that she is comfortable asking for help. Konoha is a small village, but it doesn’t mean she’s on speaking terms with everyone in it.

Either she will have to hop all the way to the hospital and hope someone takes pity on her, or she must walk very slowly. Which could do more damage to her ankle than she’s already done.

Because this is so much less embarrassing than Naruto carrying me home, the voice in her head complains. Oh well…suck it up!

She gingerly takes a step forward, only to have her foot give out beneath her.

Sakura gasps, throwing her hands out to catch herself as she falls, bracing for an impact—

Which never comes.

Someone grabs the arms she thrust out and hauls her backward, steadying her. When she finally shakes her hair out of face, she stares up in surprise.

“Sasuke?” she asks, not entirely sure what she’s seeing is real.

What’s he doing here? We went in completely opposite directions!

“You’re hurt,” he replies, ignoring her explicit and implicit questions.

“It’s, uh, it’s nothing,” she tells him, a little uncertain at the look he’s giving her foot. He’s scowling as if he finds it personally insulting.

“How long have you been like this?” he demands.

For a moment, she flinches, a particularly horrible memory rising to the surface.

“Sakura…who…did that to you…?”

She swallows and waves it off. “It’s fine. Just a little swollen. Probably a little sprain is all—”

“Don’t lie,” Sasuke orders, taking a step closer. “If you’re hurt, you have to say so. What would have happened if you collapsed while we were on our way back? Or if we got attacked?”

“I-I–”

“Come on,” he sighs, and a bit of the tension eases from his shoulders. “You’re going to the hospital.”

“Well, yeah, that’s where I was head—ehh?!”

To her utter shock, he loops her left arm around his shoulder and neck, and then wraps his right around her back and waist.

“Put your weight on me, not on your foot,” he orders her.

Sakura smiles, a little teary eyed but not from the pain.

“And you’d better not make a big deal out of this,” he mutters.

“I won’t,” she promises shyly, because moments like this, when Sasuke shows her any modicum of tenderness, are jealously guarded close to her heart. She never even tells Ino about them.

They walk together in silence for a while.

The sensation of his arm along her back is protective, and she can’t help but feel totally and utterly safe. Being so close to him fills her with warmth, and yet she can’t suppress the shiver that runs up her spine.

“Don’t tell me your catching a cold now, too,” he complains.

“N-no, nothing like that,” she assures him.

“Good. Because if you get sick on me, it’s just me and Naruto, and I can’t promise I won’t kill him when he’s being an idiot.”

She chuckles lightly at that, but there’s an edge there; lately Sasuke’s sparring sessions with Naruto have been getting more vicious. She doesn’t like the idea of them fighting anymore, even as a joke. It seems too much like tempting fate.

“Um…Sasuke?”

“Hm.”

“Are you training with Kakashi-sensei tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh.”

There’s a pause and she expects it to be the end of the conversation, but to her surprise he asks, “Why?”

She smiles.

“I was just hoping…if you’re not…too busy…would you spar with me?”

As close as they are to one another, bodies pressed closed, she senses him startle. She thinks she’s startled him, anyhow, considering she’s never before asked him that. To be fair, she’s never felt entirely confident asking him that.

“I know you only ever fight Naruto because you guys are on the same level,” she adds quickly, “but I want to improve too. So that means I have to train against people who are stronger. And you…you’re so strong, Sasuke, and I want to be, too.”

Sasuke is quiet for a long time and she believes he’s ignored the question. Disappointment floods her until he sighs.

“I’ll consider it,” he tells her gruffly, and her spirits instantly lift. “Ask me again when your foot is healed.”

She beams at him thankfully. “Okay.”

Sasuke mutters something under his breath—it sounds like he’s called her annoying again—and avoids looking at her the rest of the journey.

八

Of course, it never happens.

The next day, Sasuke tracks down his brother Itachi and lands himself in the hospital for several weeks. And upon waking, he is so consumed with rage and resentment that there are no more training sessions. Their team is splintering, and to Sakura’s grief and horror, the final nail shatters the day Sasuke abandons Konoha.

In the months and years that follow, Sakura worries endlessly about him.

She wonders if he has anyone to support him the way she and Naruto did, of if there’s anyone around to genuinely care when he pushes himself too far. These days she has Tsunade, and she knows that while he’s on his travels Naruto has Jiraiya. But for Sasuke…

Sakura doesn’t imagine Orochimaru to be the type that helps someone who stumbles or get hurt.

She hopes that wherever he is, Sasuke finds someone to care about him and take care of him when he’s too focussed or stubborn to do it himself. Sakura doesn’t care who that is, just as long as someone is there for him to support him or carry him back home the way she did.

Even if it’s not truly his home.

Sakura doesn’t really understand his exact reasoning for leaving, but somewhere in his motivations is the need to get stronger. And if he intends to do that, she will do the same.

One day, she and Naruto will get Sasuke back, and she’ll show him he shouldn’t have left. That if he had stayed, they could have all grown stronger together, and supported each other instead of having to carve out lonely new paths.

And she doesn’t care how dark or twisted his path becomes, she will still be willing to let him lean on her if it means bringing him home.

終わり

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome, but if you feel like keeping me caffeinated out of the goodness of your heart, it certainly would be appreciated! I’m also starting to post original works to my patreon.

I’m only able to keep writing as I do thanks to the support of readers like you, so every bit helps!

栗

#ssm17 #ssm17d3 #naruto fanfiction #sasusaku #rating: teen #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #lean on me #genin era #one-sided love #drama #angst #legacy of fire #kuriquinn #naruto uzumaki #kakashi hatake

289 notes · View notes