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steppingstonesuniverseguide · 2 years ago

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One More Step Out of the Pit: Chapter 6/26

Summary: It had been Tommy and Tubbo for practically forever. They clawed their way out of hell together. They discovered their superpowers together. They started working for the Superhero Guild together before even coming of age. Tommy probably owed Tubbo his life ten times over. So, when the three supervillains he'd been assigned to bring in managed to take Tubbo hostage, well, there was really only one thing to do.

He knew, of course, he was signing himself up for torture and death by offering that trade, but that was okay.

It'd have to be okay.

AO3 Link (See AO3 for Warnings.)

(This story is finished and has been posted on AO3 for a while, but I'm posting it on Tumblr so it's somewhere else too (considering the day AO3 was down a bit ago). The author notes will all be kept as well. If you are following the blog and don't want to see these posts, block the tag #backlog.)

Wilbur felt abnormally disconcerted with their current kidnapping victim, and he couldn’t quite place why. Taking heroes hostage was not at all an unfamiliar situation. Perhaps in a different world, the three of them would have more conflicted feelings about it, but it was just the way things worked. Assuming the hostage didn’t do anything to warrant it, no harm would come to them and they’d be ransomed back within a few days. It was an inconvenience surely, but there was no lasting damage.

Of course, typically, the heroes they fought, and by extension captured, were usually middle to high ranking and older. Most of them knew Phil personally since he’d only quit the Guild a bit more than a decade ago when Wilbur was 14. The oldest heroes were old friends and allies. Wilbur had even helped kidnap a couple of old babysitters. For the slightly younger crowd, Phil had even more of an in. Before quitting, Phil had taken a bit of a back seat from the fighting, feeling more comfortable training the new recruits. Thus, he’d gotten to know the now 30-something-year-olds that took up a good chunk of the 4-7 ranked heroes quite well, and even knowing Phil was an enemy now, there was still quite a bit of trust there. Phil could smile at them, crack an old joke about if they ever figured out something about their powers, and they’d be put at ease. They trusted Phil would not actually harm them, at least not off the battlefield.

This time was a bit different because this… this was a baby hero: rank one and obviously young. Wilbur still shouldn’t care too much. Sure, the kid was a bit scared. Oh well. He’d be fine. He wasn’t having a panic attack or pleading for his life, so they probably weren’t doing too much undue trauma. He was just kinda nervous. Yet, it still settled oddly in Wilbur’s chest, a foreign sympathy that surprised him because he’d never felt it in this circumstance before.

It was also strange because Mushroom Boy (as Wilbur had taken to calling him since he did not offer a name: real or hero persona) did not like Phil one bit. Phil had dialed up the gentle to 1000% with the kid, but it seemed the nicer Phil was the more the hero’s resentment and discomfort grew. For all of his boldness hiding things he knew were dangerous from them and then attacking them where his fellows had turned tail and ran, Mushroom Boy was still a bit green and a nervous wreck. Phil only managed to make it worse somehow.

Will had finally reached over to tap Phil’s leg twice to get his attention, the movement hidden from Mushroom Boy since they’d replaced the makeshift hat blindfold with a real one. He shook his head and mouthed ‘leave it.’ Phil frowned, but turned around and settled into the passenger seat, ceasing trying to needle the hero into talking.

The hero seemed relieved for a few minutes, but then seemed to grow a bit leery of the silence, so Will glanced at Techno in the rearview mirror. When he caught Techno’s eye, he jerked his head towards the kid. Techno looked at Mushroom Boy and then back at Will with a squint.

‘Me?’ he said with his eyes.

Will rolled his eyes and quirked one side of his lip into an almost scowl. ‘Yes you.’

“So…” Techno drawled after a moment of hesitation. Mushroom Boy tensed and turned in the direction of his voice. “First… first time?”

A long pause. “Being… being kidnapped by supervillains?” Mushroom boy finally asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“…Yes.”

“Ah, I see.”

Wilbur could not see Mushroom Boy’s eyes, of course, but he imagined he was absolutely reeling with the revelation that the well-renowned blood thirsty supervillain Blade was, in fact, a socially awkward nerd. Ah yes, that Will’s Techno alright.

Phil had his hand over his mouth and Will did his best to keep the steering wheel steady as his shoulder shook with silent giggles. Techno glared up at the both of them.

“It’s not too bad,” Techno continued.

There was a pause and Mushroom Boy shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Really?” he asked dubiously.

“Sure,” Techno said. “We’ll pat you down, make you change since some suits have weapons built in,” probably in this case hose him down somehow to make sure he wasn’t hiding any growable things, “and lock you in a room we have set up, but we’ll mostly leave you alone after that until the Guild calls to pay your ransom.” It was a sparse, but comfortable enough room for the couple of days people were usually in it with a one-way mirror so the occupant could be watched, but they mostly tried not to be too weird about it.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Techno said. “I mean, it’s really just a political maneuver. We don’t really have anything against you personally.”

“…Right.” There was an odd hitch to his tone, but Wilbur didn’t pay it much mind. They were pulling into their garage anyway.

Their house and connected supervillain lair was a ways out from the city in the middle of a forest. It was very much secluded and difficult to get to, but even if someone managed to stumble across it, it was hard to tell from the outside that it was anything more than a nice, normal house. You had to go into the basement to figure out anything was strange. Of course, the basement was exactly where they were going. Wilbur put the car into park and pressed a button. Mushroom Boy jerked when the car started moving in an unfamiliar direction, namely down, as the floor lowered.

Phil continued to be quiet as they exited the car, but Wilbur opened the car door for Mushroom Boy. “Alright, come on.” He was actually surprised by the gentles of his own voice; he’d have sworn he’d been going for casually neutral. What was it about this kid? Or was Phil just finally rubbing off on him?

Mushroom Boy cautiously felt his way out of the car and to his feet as Techno rounded the back.

Techno touched the hero’s shoulder and the kid flinched. “Just helping you get where you’re going,” Techno informed him, and he relaxed a touch. At least he did before he just about launched himself onto the ceiling as a ringtone pierced through the air. To be fair, Wilbur jumped a bit too. This was why Wilbur had songs for his ringtones instead of the horrible default ring, but Phil was old and wanted his phone to ‘sound like a real phone.’

Phil pulled the phone out of his pocket and blinked at the caller ID. “Well, that was surprisingly fast,” he said. “Blade, watch him for a bit.” Techno nodded, but Phil was already strolling into the other room. Will met Techno’s eyes briefly before he followed Phil out into the hallway.

He’d just pressed the phone to his face when Will walked in. “Hello Dr-” Phil trailed off, cocking his head to the side slightly as his brow furrowed.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow at him, and Phil pulled the phone away from his ear, putting it on speaker.

“What was that?” Phil asked.

“I said I want to make a deal,” a voice said, firmly. It was familiar, but Wilbur couldn’t quite place it over the phone.

Clearly Phil was in the same boat. “May I ask who I’m speaking with?”

This seemed to throw the voice off a bit because there was a beat of hesitation. “I, uh, it’s the Red Glider.”

Wilbur felt himself straighten a bit at the name and gnashed his teeth. The man had barely said anything, and Wilbur was already irritated.

“And why are you the one calling me instead of Dream?” Phil asked.

“‘Cause he wouldn’t like the deal I’m offering, would he?”

Phil’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “And what deal is that?” he asked.

“I want to trade,” Red Glider said without a lick of hesitation. “Clinanthium for me.”

What?

“What?” Phil asked.

“If you let him go and don’t hurt him, you can have me instead.”

Phil seemed justifiably confused by the offer. “I… see…”

“No tricks,” Red Glider said, apparently taking Phil’s hesitance for suspicion. “You can have me.” The serious tone he had been using slowly began to fall into seemingly nervous rambling as he tried to convince them. “It’s a good deal for you innit? You haven’t been able to lay a finger on me so far. I’m very much the Road Runner, you know? That makes you the wolf, yeah?”

“Coyote,” Phil corrected automatically.

“Right, right, yes, I never actually watched it. The Big Bad Coyote.”

Phil squinted a bit.

“The point is, you can’t catch me on your own, so here’s your opportunity. And… and he’s not worth anything to you, so you’re gonna get a lot more than you lose, you see, so it’s a good deal.”

Phil seemed to think about it for a long moment. The Red Glider was right, of course. It was a good deal. Mushroom Boy, or Clinanthium assumedly, was a low-level hero whereas the Red Glider had to be a lot higher to be purposefully thrown at them all the time. He was doubtlessly a much more valuable asset to the Hero Guild. Not to mention, having him here would mean that he was not out there for a few days. They really needed to get that suppression orb soon, and if he was all locked up, it’d be the perfect opportunity. No annoying little chickens flapping about and ruining their plans through pure luck and inanity. Oh, it would be a godsend. Of course, that raised the question of why this deal was even on the table.

Phil had apparently been silent for too long because The Red Glider spoke again, his voice abnormally vulnerable. “Please,” he said. “You can have me just not… not him.”

And oh, Wilbur realized, this was personal. That’s why he was the one talking to them and not Dream, why he said Dream wouldn’t like the deal he was offering. This was in no way Hero Guild approved. He’d probably snatched Dream’s phone to offer this. Mushroom Boy was important to him.

“You’d put on a power neutralizing cuff?” Phil asked.

Wilbur expected at least some hesitance there, but there was none. “Yes,” he said. “Whatever you want as long as he goes free. I’ll put it on. I won’t resist you taking me.”

“We pick the time and the place,” Phil said. “You come alone.”

“There’s no one to come with me anyways,” he said, his voice lifting at the end like he was trying for humor.

They hashed out the details which mostly was just Phil telling him where exactly to meet and when as well as once again warning him to come alone or they would know.

Wilbur half listened so he knew the plan but was mostly lost in his own thoughts.

“Get that shit eating malicious grin off your face,” Phil said the moment he ended the call.

“Oh, Phil,” Wilbur said. “This is the best day of my life!”

Phil sighed. “Will…”

“I’ve been writing a song for this exact occasion!” Will informed him. “Well, not this one. I figured we’d actually manage to catch the asshole ourselves not that he’d offer himself up on a silver platter. But I am still going to take advantage of this so hard.”

“Wilbur,” Phil said in his dad voice. “You can’t actually kill him, you know?”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to make his brain explode. At least, not literally. I did however make a reddit post asking for the most annoying guitar chords to ever exist and know how to play every single one. I’m also pretty sure I invented a note that never should have existed between F sharp and G. I call it F double sharp and a bit to the left.”

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am not leaving you alone with him.”

Phil had set the meeting up for 1pm at an old train yard that held no significance to anyone but the three of them and far more to Techno and Phil than to Wilbur even though he had been there too.

Phil, deciding to put forth a healthy amount of caution, had flown there as soon as he explained to Techno what was going on outside of Mushroom Boy’s earshot. He’d scope out the area and make sure no one tried to set up any traps before the meeting time.

This left Wilbur and Techno to handle Mushroom Boy.

“What’s going on?” Mushroom Boy asked, rightfully confused since they’d taken him out of the car just to load him back into it.

Wilbur and Techno met eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Your release has been negotiated,” Techno settled on.

“Really?” Mushroom Boy asked. He once again proved himself smarter than your average hero by sounding more cautious than hopeful or relieved.

“Yeah.” Techno didn’t elaborate, and Mushroom Boy was not brave enough to push for more.

They arrived about 10 minutes before the meeting time, Phil flying down to meet them at the car as they exited, leaving Mushroom Boy in the backseat for now. “Everything seems normal,” he reported.

“Even if it’s not, it’s home turf,” Technoblade said. His hand did twitch for his sword a few times despite his words. Phil had reacted to the trade with calculated approval and Wilbur with barely contained glee, but Techno had reacted differently to the news. He seemed cautious, verging on unsure. It reminded Wilbur of all of the other times he’d watched Technoblade in this trainyard. Wilbur pushed those thoughts aside.

The Red Glider arrived about 5 minutes before the agreed upon time. Wilbur had expected him to make some kind of stupid dramatic entrance like usual, maybe hop off the top of a train car or something, but instead, he came walking through the train cars like a normal human being. He stopped close enough, but still a safe distance away from them.

“I’m here,” he said. “Where’s Clinanthium.”

“Blade,” Phil said. Techno nodded and stepped back towards the car to open the backseat. He heard him mutter a warning this time before placing his hand on Mushroom Boy’s shoulder and leading him back to Phil and Wilbur.

Wilbur watched the Red Glider’s body language as Mushroom Boy was shepherded closer. He was twitching nervously, his eyes darting over the other hero as though checking for injuries. The boy’s foot stumbled on a loose rock and the Red Glider physically reacted, jerking a bit. It was like Clinanthium was an exposed nerve that went straight to Red Glider’s heart.

Experimentally, Wilbur reached over his own hand to touch Clinanthium’s free shoulder, nothing near nefarious, but Red Glider went tense all over like someone was holding a knife to his own throat. Wilbur would have felt bad if he had any sympathy for the Chicken. They’d apparently found his Achilles heel.

Yet, apparently the weakness went two ways because Techno had reached up to take off Clinanthium’s blindfold and as soon as he saw who was in front of him, he went still as stone for about three seconds. Then… “Don’t you dare!” he yelled. “Don’t even think about it.”

Red Glider finally broke the gaze that had been steadfast on the other hero, turning to attention to Phil. He took a step closer to them, still hanging back a bit. Clinanthium continued to rage as he did, having to be restrained by Technoblade.

“No funny business?” Red Glider asked.

“Deal’s clean on our end,” Phil promised. Red Glider considered him for a long moment and then closed the rest of the gap. He reached out his hand expectantly and Phil offered up a power neutralizing cuff.

Clinanthium’s voice came out harshly as soon as the cuff touched Red Glider’s hand. “Tommy, if you put that on right now, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Tommy, apparently, looked over at him, meeting his eyes with a half-smile. “Kind of an empty threat, Big Man, innit?” he asked, and then he slapped the cuff around his own wrist. It lit up, glowing softly to confirm it was working. “Alright,” he said, looking up at Phil, shoulders back and an annoyingly defiant still despite his weak position. “Now let him go.” Phil nodded to Technoblade who reached to disengage the power neutralizing cuff on Clinanthium, but paused when Tommy said, “Wait.”

All three of them looked at him questioningly.

“Don’t take it off of him. He’ll try to fight.”

“Tommy,” Clinanthium hissed.

“I’m not doing this so you can die fighting them,” Tommy spat back. “I would’ve tried fighting them myself if I was willing to risk that.” He stepped forward and shoved a phone into the boy’s hands. “Call Puffy,” he said.

“Don’t do this,” Clinanthium begged.

“It’s already done. Go.” He reached out and shoved him away, hard enough to make the boy stumble.

“You can’t.”

Tommy turned away from him and looked at Phil. “Do me one last favor,” he requested. “Tie him up to something so he can’t try to follow.”

Phil hesitated.

“The deal’s not complete until he’s not in a position to be recaptured by you,” Tommy said, “and he’s not going to let that happen on his own will. Tie him to a pole. He has a phone. Someone will come for him.”

Phil eventually nodded and turned to Clinanthium. Tommy didn’t look back at the boy as he cried and screamed and fought fruitlessly against Phil, much harder than he had against his own capture. Techno reached out to the Red Glider after a few moments to lead him to the car.

“We could put him in the trunk,” Wilbur suggested.

Techno just gave him a droll look as he opened the backseat and settled Tommy into it. He did, however, actually restrain him to the seat where they hadn’t done so to Mushroom Boy. They weren’t stupid. The bastard would totally hop out of a car in a mad bid to escape if given the opportunity, and as much fun as seeing him break every bone in his body because he forgot he didn’t have his stupid chicken powers sounded, it would also be very inconvenient.

Phil came back after a few minutes. He looked a little ill with what he’d just done. “I made sure he got ahold of someone,” Phil offered.

“Good,” Tommy breathed.

“Don’t forget to blindfold him Blade,” Wilbur reminded as he put the car in drive.

The Red Glider was not nearly as shaky as Mushroom Boy had been, and no one really tried to talk to him. Wilbur was pleasantly surprised he wasn’t running his idiotic mouth the whole way, though he did wonder why. He’d expected him to chatter on and on about unrelated drivel like he did in their fights, but the car was almost completely silent the whole ride home.

It did not put a damper on Wilbur’s ecstatic mood whatsoever. He was going to make the little bastard suffer, and he couldn’t wait.

He pulled into the garage and they descended once again into their supervillain lair and goodness did it feel like an actual evil lair today with all of the thoughts going through Wilbur’s head.

He was practically skipping as Technoblade led the blindfolded man down the hall to what they’d dubbed the ‘receiving room.’ It’s where they usually checked hostages for weapons and made them change before taking them deeper into the more secure parts of the underground compound.

Phil left them at the door with no more explanation than, “I need to make a phone call.” He shot a meaningful look at Techno who inclined his head.

“We don’t need you,” Wilbur told him with a frown once Phil had left and Techno did not. He rolled his eyes and didn’t even seem to contemplate leaving. “Fine,” he said, leaving him to watch from the corner while Wilbur pulled the new prisoner deeper into the room. “First things first,” Wilbur said. “You can take off the blindfold and then I want the mask.”

He didn’t say a word, but his hesitant fingers did reach for the blindfold to undo it. They hesitated a bit more with the mask, shaking a bit as he reached for the edges. Wilbur could have snapped at him to hurry up, but he honestly enjoyed that he was struggling with the concept of unmasking himself in front of Wilbur; it made him feel powerful. It took a few long moments, but then Wilbur heard him take a sharp inhale and he pulled off the mask in a rush, almost throwing it at Wilbur.

Wilbur looked up to take his first look at the hero’s face, and every thought he’d just been having dissolved into thin air.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Tommy gritted out after a couple of moments of staring. His eyes were resolutely focusing on a spot above Wilbur’s shoulder.

He was young. Way, way too young. Wilbur had thought… he’d assumed he’d been some sort of mentor or something to Clinanthium which was why he wanted to trade. A parent had even briefly crossed his mind with how protective he’d seemed to be, but there was no way this kid was old enough to be a father. He looked like he couldn’t even grow facial hair. He was overly pale and had deep set bags under his eyes. His eyes were glossy, and he had obviously been crying in the car, apparently silently. Wilbur didn’t even know he knew how to do anything silently.

He also looked fucking terrified.

Discomfort crept up Wilbur’s spine as he continued to look at him. The thought rose from somewhere deep inside Wilbur that he reminded him of Technoblade when Wilbur had first seen him, when Phil had first met him.

Wilbur did not like that thought.

He turned away to look at Techno who had noticed something was amiss and was tilting his head to try to get a look at Tommy’s face, at whatever had made Wilbur freeze.

“Blade, you can handle this, right?” Wilbur asked weakly.

Techno blinked in surprise. “W-what?” he asked, but Wilbur was already turning away toward the door.

“I… I seem to be getting a migraine. I’ll be in my room.”

Author Note:

Wilbur: *has dastardly cartoony villain plans*

Tommy: *has a baby face*

Wilbur: ...

Tommy: ...

Wilbur: ...

Wilbur: And I would have gotten away with it too...

#backlog

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thefinalcinderella · 4 years ago

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Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Epilogue

After two long years...it’s finally time...time for my unnecessarily long pre-chapter ramble

When I first took on translating this novel, I didn’t expect it to be so long...probably the longest project I’ve done so far...even a pandemic happened

In a lot of ways my journey with this novel mirrors Chikusei-sou’s journey to the Hakone Ekiden. Like them, I also started out optimistic, ready to tackle this novel and thinking it’ll be easy, and then became daunted by all the challenges and the length, and then had to deal with real world stuff that interferes with my goal (though unlike them I did get distracted a little, see below), and then I got my shit together and slowly advanced to the end, page by page, not looking anywhere but ahead, and then I finally reached the end. Perhaps this novel is like my own Hakone Ekiden in a way (maybe I should go on a run)

So yeah these boys are all my boys now, after having spent so long with them, probably should watch their anime one of these days

A big shoutout to my editor @unicornjellybee , don’t know what I’d do without them considering I basically don’t look over whatever I type

I think after this I’ll be working on my backlog of Tsurune translations, just in time for the movie release next year, but I do need help on some things. More on that in a separate post

Plugging my other stuff:

Read DIVE!! please

Read Maydare here. It’s great

Read Super Cub here, haven’t watched the anime for this either

Here’s my Ko-fi if you want to support me

Feel free to make your own epubs (I say, shifting the responsibility onto other people)

Once again, thanks for sticking with me for so long! Time to go back and add those missing italics

Full list of translations here

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The sweet scent of flowers blooming somewhere mingled with the evening air.

Thinking that it seemed like it was only a short time ago that he had come here with the residents of Chikusei-sou, Kurahara Kakeru stared at the Odakyu Line as it crossed the railway bridge. Spring had come again.

The windows of the train were already lit up. The flow of the Tama River today, which had begun to take on the colors of night, was still gentle, and there were no people on the riverbank. Kakeru gradually slowed down his jogging speed. A few steps down the bank, and the soft grass wrapped around his well-worn shoes.

Kakeru sat down on the bank and stared at the water reflecting the neon lights on the opposite shore for a while.

“Kakeru-san.”

Someone called out his name, and he turned around. A freshman who was going to join the track team this spring, was standing on the road above the embankment. When Kakeru nodded, he happily went over and sat down next to him.

“Have you been jogging all this time?” Kakeru asked. “Don’t get too carried away.”

“No, I just went to the shopping district to buy some groceries,” the freshman answered, looking a bit nervous. “It’s Jouji-san who’s getting carried away. He said, ‘Since we’re having a party tonight,’ and then bought a lot of meat and vegetables.”

He’s going to do yakiniku, Kakeru thought. Come to think of it, Jouta had borrowed a griddle from the lunch lady at the clubhouse during the day. I want to eat beef, but I also want to shop at Yaokatsu. Kakeru guessed that was what the twins had had in mind when they decided on the menu.

“It’s a shame that they’re going to tear it down,” the freshman said. “I wanted to live in Chikusei-sou too.”

“You’ll step through the floor.”

“Is that really true?”

“Yeah.”

I can’t believe it, the freshman laughed.

“Is everyone already there?” When Kakeru asked that, the freshman answered “yes” with a meek look on his face.

“That’s part of the reason why I came out for a jog. I don’t know any of the senpais there, so I didn’t know what to do.” The freshman straightened his seated posture. “What kind of person is Kiyose-senpai?”

“What kind…why?”

“Jouji-san said that Kakeru-san could have gone to a much stronger corporate team, but that you chose to join a newly established team because Kiyose-senpai was the coach.”

“A huge team doesn’t really suit me.”

“Is that so?” The freshman seemed unconvinced. “But I was a little excited. To think that I would be able to meet Kiyose-senpai. I decided to go to Kansei and become a member of the track team because I watched the Hakone Ekiden where he was the anchor.”

Kakeru tore at the grass on the riverbank and let the wind gently blowing over the bank scatter the blades.

“It’s getting cold. Shall we go back?”

Kakeru stood, and the freshman rushed to follow him. Kakeru casually matched the freshman’s pace as they ran.

“You asked what kind of person Haiji-san is, right?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a liar.”

“What?”

“He’s a very good liar, so be careful not to get tricked by him.”

The freshman seemed bewildered and only said “Huh?” Kakeru laughed slightly.

Even though he said he was fine. Haiji-san is a liar, as expected. He must have known he would never be able to run again, but even so, he kept lying to me on that day. In order to keep his promise with me—to make the dream we all had into reality.

I don’t know of any other lie that was so gallant, cruel, and beautiful.

They cut across the open field and ran along the narrow road in the residential area. The chimney of Tsurunoyu bathhouse appeared from beyond the low roofs of the houses. Their surroundings were completely covered in a dim light, and the smell of dinner overflowed from the windows of the houses facing the street, mixing together and melting into the spring air.

“I wonder if a liar would make a good coach,” the freshman muttered and tilted his head. “Even for your debut in the Hakone Ekiden, Kiyose-senpai was practically your coach, right? And now he’s the coach for a corporate team.”

“Well, who knows.”

Kakeru had never thought about what he was or wasn’t suited for. Kiyose was Kiyose. He was detached and easygoing at all times, but he always put himself in an athlete’s shoes and pursued running more seriously than anyone else, and he demanded his athletes be strict in their pursuit as well. Kiyose would always stand by those who tried to run and those who wished to run.

“I think that Haiji-san taught me everything,” Kakeru said. “Except for just one thing.”

“What is that one thing?”

What is running?

That was the only thing Kiyose hadn’t taught him. Maybe he couldn’t teach him.

Kakeru wanted to know the answer to that question, so he ran. He continued to run. There were times when he thought he had reached the top, but the feeling of accomplishment was fleeting and the answer was never in sight.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Kakeru quietly said to the freshman running next to him. “If you keep running, you’ll surely understand it one day.”

When they turned the corner, the hedges of Chikusei-sou came into view along with the lively sounds of conversation. Nira, who had recently shortened his walks, was barking as though he was giving responses. The freshman disappeared into a break in the hedge and Kakeru followed.

A long-missed lineup of members was gathered in the garden of Chikusei-sou.

Nico-chan and Yuki were laughing with each other. Prince’s silhouette peeked through the windows of Chikusei-sou as he went around turning on the lights inside. Musa and Shindou were carrying over the meat that was done cooking. King was getting scolded by the landlord for letting Nira lick the alcohol. Hanako and the twins had their faces close together, talking happily about something.

This might be a dream, Kakeru thought. Maybe that dream-like year has come back.

When Kakeru stepped on the gravel and entered the premises, Kiyose, who was facing the griddle, smiled. He walked over with a cup of sake in both hands and his right leg slightly dragging behind him.

“Welcome home, Kakeru.”

“I’m back.”

Kakeru accepted the cup.

It was Chikusei-sou’s final night. Kakeru would leave here tomorrow.

Even if the day came when he wished to return, after tonight, Chikusei-sou would disappear. A new dormitory would be built here for the track and field team. But he didn’t feel lonely. Records were overwritten and disappeared, leaving only memories behind, but Kakeru now knew that it didn’t mean everything would be lost.

All the rooms in Chikusei-sou were lit up. Kakeru held up his cup and stared at the sake which reflected the gentle light for a short while.

“Haiji-san, do you remember?”

Kiyose only laughed quietly, without even asking, “What?”

Loud cheers erupted from a corner of the garden. Small out-of-season fireworks were set off, and the smell of damp gunpowder drifted into the sky. Kakeru followed the white trails of the smoke with his eyes alongside Kiyose.

A single grain of light vividly illuminated everyone in the garden with an equal amount of color.

He had spent an extremely eventful year with these irreplaceable people. He might never be able to experience such a time ever again. But still.

——Kakeru, do you like running?

That spring night four years ago, Kiyose had asked Kakeru that question. His expression had been so pure—as though he were asking about the act of living itself.

——I want to know. What it means to run.

Me too, Haiji-san. I want to know too. I’ve been running for a long time, but I still don’t know. Now, running has become like a question. From now on, I’ll never stop asking it.

I want to know.

So let’s go. Let’s run to the ends of the earth. The light of conviction is always in my heart and I can clearly see the narrow path stretching out in the darkness.

“Kakeru, hurry, hurry!”

Answering his friends’ calls, Kakeru and Kiyose stepped forward into the circle of people surrounding the griddle.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind #kazetsuyo

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angstsfordays · 4 years ago

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Beautiful Pain (8)

Chapter Eight- It Starts Today

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: You aren’t sure how to move on from the aftermath of Latvia. Was it time for you to confront your feelings for Bucky or would you retreat back, pretending as if nothing ever happened?

Warnings: Fluffiness. Slow-burn but we're getting there! Perhaps some tear-inducing moments! 😭

Word count: 61k

Notes: Hi! I’m back after my assignment submission. Currently on a short break before an exam is due in 2 weeks. Ever since the series ended, not gonna lie I was a little unmotivated to write. However, I didn’t want to let down all those who have supported this series so far.

Hope you enjoy this chapter! 🥰 Btw, I legit bawled my eyes writing the last part! 🥲

Please give support by leaving likes, comments or helping to reblogs! Thank you! 🙏🏼

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“I’m surprised you’re still here. Figured you would be resting at home after what had happened.” Melissa, the manager of the social service centre you work for came by your desk.

“Sorry, I took urgent leave.” Looking up from the backlog of paperwork that had accumulated, you gave a sheepish smile at how much you had to get done. Melissa leaned her weight on the side of your desk and glanced down to your tired eyes.

“It’s fine, Y/N. But I don’t know if diving back into work is really the best for you now. ” You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Pinching the bridge of your nose, your eyes opened to see Melissa looking down at you in concern.

You were grateful for her check-in. Despite your so-called Avengers status, she never treated you like you were special. You still recalled the day where you stepped into her office for an interview for an open position on her team. The shell-shocked expression she had when she recognised who had decided to show up for a job interview in her office on a Tuesday morning was priceless.

“I don’t understand. Why would you be applying for a regular job here? I would expect you to continue your superhero career?”

Melissa asked with a hint of doubt before looking through your resume. Tactical negotiation skills do seem like an asset they could really use here in social work….

“There’s no more Avengers now…. Besides, I’m tired of fighting and I’m ready to do something else. I like to believe the real heroic work lies in our community.”

Your response took Melissa by surprise, in a good way of course. There was no hint of superiority that you exuded. What she saw in front of her was a woman who seemed earnest to do good work for her community.

“Any other things you would like to add on to show how you can contribute to the team?” Melissa looked at you in a renewed light and she inwardly smiled at the sight of you deep in thought to find an interesting response like any other nervous interviewee.

“I’m basically a human heater. I could step up to help if the electrical heater is not working in the winter?” The expression you had on your face after giving your reply made Melissa chuckled out loud. You inwardly cringed at your seemingly lame response but eased up when you see Melissa breaking out into a laugh.

“Perfect. Welcome to the team, Y/N.” Melissa extended her hand towards you and yours eagerly reached out to return the gesture.

Working with the social service centre here in New York had been great. You had finally found renewed passion in your life after the events of the Blip and the loss of your friends.

Everyone at the office made up a close-knitted family-like working environment and it was an added bonus that Melissa was an amazing boss too and became an unexpected confidant of yours. You felt like you finally found your place once again.

“Work keeps my mind busy. I much rather be busy than being left alone to my thoughts.” You were referring to your own overthinking with the whole Bucky situation. It had only been a few days since you returned back from Latvia, but it felt painfully long.

Melissa looked over you once more in concern. She knew that you were more than willing to share your thoughts openly with her as you two have established a close friendship outside of work for the past few months. However, she knew that they were still some things that you kept to yourself in private.

While you always maintained an optimistic front, she knew that you were only human and susceptible to darker and deeper emotions especially after all you had been through.

“Hey, Joey is making a coffee run at that new coffee place around the block. They’re having a 1 for 1 coffee deal today. You want your usual?” Nodding gratefully, Melissa gave your shoulder a light squeeze before moving off.

You swivelled your office chair back to face your laptop. The words on the screen didn’t seem to focus as your mind was clouded with the recollection of what had happened after witnessing John did the unthinkable.

What he did back in Latvia had become international news the very same day, the amount of scrutiny and support for him were head-to-head on the internet. The news on television ever since you returned home had been covering it day and night. As you recalled back the order of events that happened back in Latvia, you could feel an invisible weight in your mind and heart.

Sam and Bucky went to find John while you tried to manage the aftermath of everything that had happened. You helped to settle things with Lemar and assisted in the reports that had to be accounted back to the authorities back in the states.

When Sam and Bucky returned back to find you, they filled you in on what happened and you learnt that they had to forcibly take back the shield from John. It was too dangerous to even let John have the shield anymore, given what he had done to Nico. You were sure that it must not have been an easy fight as you recalled the bruises on each man’s face.

The three of you had another meeting once everything was settled. You were disgruntled to learn that Karli and her group were once again on the run and you were all sure that she would now make sure that she’s impossible to be found.

Looking back and forth between your two boys who found themselves at a standstill, you quietly figured that this was the end of the mission regarding Karli. Even if it was for a brief moment, you felt happy to have worked with them. It almost felt like a sense of normalcy as you worked as a team again.

The reality was that you knew Sam and Bucky still had a strict working relationship and you ever wondered if there was a chance for all three of you to work together again as the Avengers. Preparing yourself for the disappointment, you silently watched as your boys exchanged silent looks once more.

“I guess this is goodbye.” You first spoke up amidst the silence. Both men looked up in surprise when you decided to voice out the reality of the situation. You walked over to Sam to give him a goodbye hug and lingered for a moment as he gave you a couple of pats on your back.

“You take care, alright? You know you can reach out to me anytime.” Sam assured you to which you returned a grateful smile.

“Of course, see you soon hopefully.”

As you pulled away from Sam, you turned to see Bucky standing with an unreadable expression on his face. Walking gingerly towards him, you wiped off the non-existent palm sweat on the side of your pants as your heartbeat started to pick up.

“Hey.” It was just one word but you felt yourself choking to utter it out. You weren’t sure how to face Bucky especially from whatever happened back with Karli.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to address the elephant in the room but you figured that you could brush it under the rug if it didn’t seem like Bucky was intending to talk about it too. There was a brief awkward silence before you decided to break it.

“I know you still have unfinished business” Bucky’s eyes glanced off to the side and then to the ground before they met yours. Bucky was not surprised that you understood him so well. Yes, he had unfinished business with Zemo and he needed to follow through with it.

However, he also wanted to badly talk things out with you. Many revelations had come to light unexpectedly from one event to another and he wanted clarity.

“You wanna come?” Giving a brief smile at his invite, you considered it for a brief second. After everything that happened from Germany to Madripoor and to Latvia, you believed you needed to take a step back.

You would have never thought that your deep-seated feelings for Bucky would ever come to light, and it was in the worst-case scenario imagined.

What should have been a private and intimate revelation had turned out otherwise. Karli had inadvertently outed you and you were forced to confront your feelings for Bucky before you were even ready.

As much you wanted to talk things out with Bucky, it was not the right timing. Not with Zemo still out there roaming freely. Unfortunately, work needed to come first in this situation and you had to let it take priority over your heart.

Immediately as you shook your head, you could see the puzzled expression painted on Bucky’s face. He did not expect your response as he figured you would have been more than willing to accompany him.

“You don’t need me, Buck.” You were wrong, Bucky thought. Yes, he could handle Zemo on his own but he wanted nothing more than to have you by his side especially since he had learnt of your deeper feelings for him. He didn’t want to let you leave just yet.

Wrapping your arms behind his neck, you pulled Bucky slightly down in an embrace before placing a short peck on his lips. “See you around, Buck.”

“Change of plans, Sam. Mind if I head back with you?” Seeing you turning your back to walk back to Sam, Bucky could feel a sense of disappointment and hurt washing over him. Tuning out Torres’ comments, Bucky stalked out of the door.

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It was not difficult to figure out where Zemo would have escaped to. As the memorial statue to commemorate those who had fallen in the events of Ultron came into sight, Bucky’s fingers clenched tighter around the gun he had been holding.

“I thought you would be here sooner. Don’t worry, I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you-” Zemo could see Bucky in his peripheral line of sight.

“Imagine my relief.” Bucky returned sarcastically. Zemo turned to meet Bucky before he continued to speak.

“Or your pretty friend.” A small smirk formed on Zemo’s face as he sees Bucky clicked the gun in his hand with a hardened look.

“You touch her and I would end you right here.” It was almost satisfying to get a rile out of Bucky and Zemo knew you were his weak point.

He scoffed at how it was clear as day to everyone that you two had something deeper beyond friendship or camaraderie. And yet, the two of you chose to never address it.

Zemo then went on to talk about how Karli was beyond redemption and that warning Sam had been a futile attempt. He believed Bucky had the will to actually do what’s necessary, given that he was indeed programmed to kill.

Bucky was seething with silent rage. He was not a killer anymore. Zemo’s mere insinuation only served to remind him how people never changed their perspective on him. Bucky responded that he would figure out a way that didn’t pander to Zemo’s drastic methods.

Raising his right arm, the gun was pointed towards Zemo. The rush of emotions overcame Bucky as he thought about how Zemo made his life hell, accusing him of a crime he didn’t commit.

Despite some truths to his words, Zemo was relentless and pragmatic in achieving his goals and he was deemed too dangerous to be left unattended.

Gripping the gun tightly, Bucky cocked back the trigger and let it go. Zemo accepted his fate, knowing he had done Bucky wrong. The sound that followed next was not as deafening as the silence that followed next. Zemo then realised Bucky had indeed managed to move on from his past and did not succumb to his darker desires to kill him.

Bucky watched on as the Dora Milajae came to escort Zemo, with plans to take him to the raft where he would face imprisonment for the rest of his life.

Ayo came up to Bucky’s and advised him that it would be best if he avoids coming back to Wakanda for the time being. Bucky agreed that it was fair.

“Give my regards to Y/N.” Bucky nodded once more at Ayo’s words, however, the masked expression on his face did not go unnoticed by the Dora Milajae’s second in command.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, uhm-nothing. It’s fine.” Ayo gave Bucky a knowing glance before bidding him goodbye.

“Hey, I might have another favour to ask of you.”

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Sam: How have you been doing?

Y/N: Alright…I’m busy with work. :)

Sam: Have you spoken with Bucky?

Y/N: Not really, I know he’s probably finishing up business in Sokovia.

Sam: Shouldn’t he be back home by now?

Y/N: To be honest, I’m not sure. I haven’t reached out and he didn’t contact me either.

Sam: Hey, are you alright?

Y/N: Honestly….no…I thought I could distract myself with work but my mind has never been rested ever since Latvia.

Y/N: I don’t know how to face him after what went down. Just wanna bury me in a deep hole or maybe get snapped again. Hmmm….

Sam: Girl, have you gone mad?

Y/N: Maybe

Sam: Hey, why not come over to my place for the weekend? You can finally meet Sarah and the boys.

Y/N: Oh no, Sam. I could never intrude.

Sam: What are you talking about? I invited you!

Y/N: ……….

Sam: Come on! Hey, you ever been on a fishing boat before?

Y/N: Not that I could recall of….

Sam: Then that’s perfect! Come check out my family’s boat, although it’s not in the best shape. Been trying to spruce it up and get it back to its former glory….

Y/N: Alright, dad.

Sam: Hey, watch your manners.

Y/N: HAHAHA ;) See you soon!

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You were pumped to head down to Sam’s hometown for the weekend. It was long overdue after hearing about them so much.

Adjusting the strap of your duffle bag, you gingerly walked to the front door and gave a few knocks. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ears, you fidgeted on your toes, hoping that you would be able to make a good first impression.

When the door opened, your eyes first looked to see no one until you averted them down. You saw a young boy with glasses looking up at you with curious eyes. Mustering your best smile, you let out a warm greeting. “Hi!”

“Who’s that AJ?” You heard a woman’s voice calling after the boy in front of you.

“Mum, there’s an Avenger at the door!” The boy hollered back before running back into the house. You weren’t sure what to do next so you remained where you stood. Within a matter of seconds, the woman you had heard about so much appeared right in front of your sight.

“Oh, hi! You must be Y/N.”

“Er-yes, I am!” You returned enthusiastically and Sarah, as she introduced herself ushered you into the door. Your eyes roamed around the homey and cosy décor that filled the Wilson home.

“I didn’t expect you to show up so early! Have you eaten?” Nodding in response, Sarah pointed out to where you could put your bag down and went back to hustling in the kitchen. You told her you already had a quick bite before coming over and she looked at you with a pleasing smile.

“Sam’s actually at the dock right now,” Sarah informed you and you blanched at the thought of being by yourself without Sam to be a buffer for your first meeting with his family. However, your worries were for nothing as Sarah welcomed you warmly.

“Don’t worry, you can join me, I’m heading over too.” Her friendly demeanour eased your initial nervousness and you nodded eagerly in response.

As you and Sarah made your way over to the docks, the two of you fell into easy conversation. You learnt from her that she was struggling to keep the family business afloat and how they couldn’t even manage to get a loan from the bank.

Nevertheless, Sam was determined and managed to call in favours from their close-knitted community to chip in some help. A sudden wave of guilt washed over you when you realised that Sam had been facing real problems of his own and that you weren’t aware of it to help.

You had wished that you had been a better friend. Being the kind soul she was, Sarah dismissed your negative thoughts and reassured you that it was alright. From what Sam had spoken of you, she was eager to meet you herself.

“Sam says you always have his back when you are all out there in all the action.”

“Of course, we are a team. Sam’s a great person so it’s not hard to be there for him when he needs it.” Hearing your answer had Sarah throw a grateful smile your way. She was glad that Sam had someone he could trust while he’s out fighting the threats of the world.

As you two approached a medium-sized boat, you could make out the figure of Sam from a distance. You were excited to run up to greet him but it was the second figure on the boat that you stopped in your tracks.

A high-pitch whistle suddenly burst into your eardrums and you realised one of the pipes from the boat was loose. You saw Bucky heading down to help Sam and you gulped nervously as you continued to watch the scene happening in front of you.

You were definitely not expecting to see Bucky here in Louisiana. Why was he even here? Your eyes moved to see Sarah moving closer to where the men stood and Bucky introduced himself with a charming smile.

Sarah returned his greeting politely and looked over to Sam. “Hey, Sam! Look who I brought.”

Back turned, you were hoping to escape unnoticed, yet you were too slow as you heard Sam calling out for you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Slowly turning your back, you were greeted by the sight of Sam and Bucky looking with equally confused expressions on their faces.

Not knowing what to say, your eyes blinked far more than times than normal as you tried to straighten up and looked convincing. “Toilet?” You muttered out hesitantly. Sam was not convinced at all as one of his brows was raised in question.

“You came all the way to my hometown, the least you could do is say hi first.” Grimacing and giving a sorry look, you made your way to the boat and Sam helped you down.

“Hey, Sam. Thanks for inviting me.” You spoke as you gave him a hug in greeting. Bucky was surprised, to say the least. He was only stopping by to drop a package for Sam but he never expected to see you here.

He had trouble reaching out to you, crafting messages every other hour and deleting them before deciding to not contact you at all. He was wondering if you were still mad at him from when he last saw you in Latvia.

“Wait, what are you doing here, Y/N?”

“Sam invited me to come to stay with his family for the weekend, like a getaway.” Meeting Bucky’s bright eyes always did something to your guts. Your breath hitched at how he could so simply beautiful with the sea view set against his back.

“Or more like I want to introduce you to my family and planned a surprise proposal so that we can be engaged by the end of the week.” Sam’s arm landed with a slight thud around your shoulders. You turned to see him wiggling his brows and donning a mischievous smile.

Eyes widening once you processed his words, you can’t help a chuckle as you knew that Sam was trying to crack a witty joke to mess with Bucky. Bucky looked like he was about to actually combust and kill Sam with his fiercest glare.

“Oh Sam, what a way to ruin the surprise. I expected you to be more romantic.” You quipped back to play along to his shenanigans. Sam ruffled your hair endearingly before looking to Bucky who didn’t seem one bit amused.

“Woah, I’m just kidding. Would you look at his face? Man, I got you good.” A wide smile broke out on Sam’s face before he started cackling.

“That’s not funny.” Buck look to the side and gave out a short sigh of relief. He looked back at you with an unreadable expression. Sensing the tension in the atmosphere, Sam believed it was time to leave you two alone.

“Remember to thank me later,” Sam whispered into your ear before giving you a pat on your shoulder. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at him walking off to the other end of the boat.

Bucky still continued to stand at his spot and you took the first step towards him. He was still silent and giving you an infamous brooding stare. Bringing two fingers to the corner of his lips, you gently lifted each side up to force Bucky into a smile.

“You are going to look physically 106 for real if you continue to frown like that.” You teased Bucky in hopes that he could ease up.

“Blame Sam.” He huffed like a little child who got nagged by his mother.

“Sam was just joking. You know that.” You removed your fingers from his cheeks and Bucky immediately missed the touch that you gave.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Give me a smile.” Seeing your doe eyes looking at him adorably, Bucky felt his icy exterior melting. Pretending to clear his throat, he looked to the side before facing you with a tight but warm smile. His smile widened when he saw you returning a big grin.

For a moment, it didn’t feel like what happened in Latvia had crossed both of your minds. It was just back to the way things had been before. It was safe and comfortable. But was it what you really wanted?

Were you just going to ignore your feelings for Bucky forever?

“Are you two continuing to get lost in each other’s eyes?” Sam’s holler snapped you and Bucky out of your moment. The two of you awkwardly shifted before heading over to where Sam was. You both offered to help Sam on his family boat to speed things up.

It was a truly therapeutic afternoon for all three of you. Free from the world fighting and just hanging out as a bunch of friends (more so of your thought than the boys). The entire time, Bucky was subtlety (or not) flexing his strength as he took charge of most of the heavy work.

You could see the impressive looks from some of the community members that walked past and you smirked at how Bucky was trying his best to look unbothered from the attention.

“My welding machine is broken when I managed to find it, sorry Sam.” One of the elders stopped by the boat to tell Sam and he reassured that it was fine. However, you could still see his worried expression.

“I guess it’s time for me to step up.” You exclaimed while putting down the sanding paper in your hands. You asked Sam to guide you to what needed to be welded together. Extending two fingers together to mimic a gun, you gathered flame-like energy and started to weld the pieces of metal together like it was nothing.

You didn’t realise you had attracted a small crowd as everyone gathered to see the woman who was shooting fire out of her fingertips. “That’s so cool!” A young boy yelled in excitement as he jumped up and down.

Once you’re done, you looked to see the several kids clapping fervently. You gave your best smile and threw in a two-finger salute their way.

“Seems like you have fans now,” Bucky remarked to which you smirked coyly. “What are you talking about? I always have fans.”

After everything was done for the day, Sam brought you all some cold beer to end things right. Clinking your bottles, you took a seat beside Sam as Bucky talked about how he needed to get a hotel for the night before catching his flight out tomorrow.

As he spoke, he looked over to you with an expecting look before he took another gulp of beer. Sam scoffed before convincing Bucky to stay for the night with his family. Bucky still awkwardly shifted as he tried to decline the offer.

You felt a slight jab in your waist and turned to see Sam nodding over to Bucky.

“Come on Bucky, I’m also imposing here too. Don’t leave me by myself.” Just when Bucky was sure that he would flat out refuse Sam, your words managed to bring him back. He chuckled at you giving a sad puppy look before he admitted defeat.

As the three of you returned to Sam’s house, you all washed up and got ready for dinner that Sarah prepared. You offered to help despite her insistence that you’re a guest. It was such a nice peaceful moment when all of you squeezed around the now seemingly small table now that you and Bucky joined in.

Nevertheless, dinner went well and the conversations were great. AJ and Cass heard from the kids in the neighbourhood about what you did and asked you to do a little demonstration before they got silenced by their mother.

“Are you like Uncle Sam’s girlfriend?” You choked on the water that you had just drunk and Sam who was beside you helped to pat your back down.

All attention went to little AJ who looked very serious in having his question answered. All the adults at the table didn’t know whether to laugh or panic at his seemingly innocent query.

Sarah handed you a napkin to wipe your face and you smiled gratefully. Bucky was experiencing a gnawing feeling. Sure, it was a kid asking an innocent question but it bothered him more than it should. His eyes averted to where you sat and he saw how you were trying to come up with a response.

“What makes you think so, kid?” Sam quipped in before extending an arm out to wrap around your shoulders. The spoon in Bucky’s hand was on the verge of being bent into half.

“I don’t know. You never bring a girl home.” AJ’s reasoning had you giggling at his adorable nature.

“Well, how about it babe? Should we tell them?” Sam looked at you with a smug look. You turned to see Bucky trying to look neutral but you knew his irritated look when you saw one.

“Sam….” You spoke in a warning tone before he snickered. Sam threw his hands up in defeat before turning back to his nephew to explain.

“Y/N’s a friend, she’s like a buddy to me.” Sam ruffled your hair before giving a pat on your head.

“You have someone you like, Auntie Y/N? Can I call you auntie?” Cass chimed into the conversation and your facial expression betrayed you before you couldn’t even pretend.

You sent a fleeting glance to a person with bright cerulean eyes before you cleared your throat and nodded to Cass.

“It’s a secret.” You spoke with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Finger raising up to your lips, you let out a small spark of energy which wowed the two young boys. You threw in an extra wink before you all resumed dinner.

The spoon in Bucky's hand was saved from being rendered useless. Letting out a relieved sigh, Bucky's heart started to pick up again as he thought about your response.

When would he able to catch you at the right time to talk?

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AJ shared his room with his mum while Sam bunked in with Cass for the night. You took Sam’s room while Bucky took the couch downstairs. Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night and you decided to make your way down.

Once you were on the last step, you could see Bucky stretched out on the small couch. You made sure to be as quiet as possible before going to get a glass of water. Once you had your drink, you walked over and stopped a few feet short of where Bucky was.

The moonlight from the window added a beautiful glow onto him and you smiled at how he had a peaceful expression on his face as he slept.

Taking silent steps, you kneeled down near to where his head was. Seeing how he was letting out soft breaths, you believed that he was deep in a peaceful slumber.

You couldn't stop yourself from reaching out to brush the tips of his hair before sliding your fingers to stroke the apple of his cheeks. You smiled to yourself looking at the endearing sight in front of you.

Figuring you didn't want to stay on acting like a creep, you stood up and tucked yourself further into the warmth of your woolly cardigan.

You tiptoed to the front door and walked out to the lake by the Wilson house.

Breathing in the fresh air, you took in the beautiful night view and admired how the moon was reflected on the lake.

“Y/N.” Your eyes were closed and you wondered if you were hearing things. When your name was called a second time, you realised it wasn't just imagination anymore.

Letting out a shaky breath, you turned to see Bucky walking towards you with a nervous look. It dawned upon you that the inevitable moment had arrived. Now that you both had a temporary moment of peace from the non-stop fighting, you figured it was time to have the talk.

Standing face to face with Bucky, your gaze concentrated on the space beyond his shoulders. You weren’t sure how to face him in the eye yet.

It felt like minutes had passed before Bucky gathered up the courage to speak first. His hands were in his pockets as he looked down on the ground awkwardly.

“Did you mean everything? Every word you said to Karli back in Latvia.” Your eyes fluttered shut before looking back to see his intense blues peering back at you.

“Why would I lie?” You answered back in a whisper. Bucky nodded in understanding before continuing. “When did it start?”

“Remember Romania? We were at the farmer’s market and you were intensely deciding between the plums or tangerines. The poor owner thought you were getting pissed at him or something.”

“That’s what did it for you?” Bucky looked confused at your explanation. He thought it would have been some sentimental or romantic moment that you had realized your feelings for him.

“It’s cute. You’re cute.” You justified yourself nervously, murmuring the last part softly.

“Your definition of cute is weird.” He mumbled bashfully as he looked down to the ground in embarrassment. Shrugging your shoulders, you started to feel shy yourself.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” You let out a hum and thought deeply before speaking.

“I didn’t want to give you something to worry about when you’re still unpacking from the Blip, Steve leaving and your pardon. I also know you had your amends….didnot felt like it was the right time. Never felt like there was ever a right time with all the crazy things happening around us.”

“To be honest Bucky, it might have been hard for me but I would have been okay to not say anything at all. Sometimes loving someone doesn’t mean you have to be with them. True love is when you just want that person to be happy.” When you realised you had used the word love, you bit your lips as if to hold your tongue.

You slapped a hand to your lips before turning your back on Bucky, grimacing at the fact that you went that far in your explanation.

Bucky felt an emotion that was indescribable in words as he processed what you had just said. He then realised that you had always been selfless for him even it meant that you disregarded yourself in the process. How could he ever deserve someone like you?

Placing his hands on your shoulder to turn you back, Bucky was a little surprised to find you tearing up. You quickly wiped them away and averted your eyes away from him. Cradling your face gently in both his hands, Bucky gently wiped away a few more tears that cascaded down.

He didn’t want to see you cry anymore. He realised seeing you like this has brought him greater pain than he could have imagined.

He was at a loss for words but Bucky knew what he wanted to do next. He leaned down to place his lips gently on yours and your hands went to rest on the spot where his neck and shoulders meet.

Bucky hummed when he felt you returning the kiss and slid his vibranium hand down to your waist to pull you closer. Putting all his feelings into the kiss, Bucky wanted to let you know what he truly felt.

He slanted his mouth to deepen the kiss. You let out a soft gasp at the surprise but it was not unwelcome. You had always imagined what it would be like to finally kiss him and it was even better than you had imagined. Your arms snaked behind his neck to pull him down while his hands roamed around your back to feel you closer.

The two of you eventually pulled away for a little air after kissing for what it seems like forever. Bucky’s thumb swiped your swollen lips before learning it for another kiss once more. “I don’t deserve you.” He muttered through his breath.

“Don’t ever say that. Stop thinking of yourself as being unloveable. Know that you're the most precious thing to me. I will go through hell and back for you, always.” You confessed with an absolute resolve before turning shy. Your eyes moved to your hands smoothing down the material of his shirt.

Hearing your confession made Bucky the happiest and luckiest man in the world. How was he able to find someone like you who loved him despite everything he was and had done.

There used to be someone like that for him. Yet, in the end, he left Bucky alone in this world. Looking down at how you were shyly avoiding his gaze, Bucky's heart tightened in a good way.

He kissed the crown of your head before pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug as if he didn’t believe this moment wasn’t real and didn’t want to let go.

Once you two pull apart, his arms were still wrapped around your waist while you held his arms. "I love you so much, doll. You're the best thing that's ever happened."

Looking up to meet Bucky's eyes with renewed confidence, you never want him to doubt your feelings for him. He had gone through so much and you just wanted to never make him feel like he's alone.

"I will always be here for you, Bucky. You are my person to love and protect for as long as I live."

Your words were simple yet they were backed by such powerful and sincere emotions. Before he knew it, tears started to well up in his eyes.

Bucky started sniffing as tears started falling down his cheeks uncontrollably.

You were surprised at the sudden turn of events and you went to wipe his tears away with your fingers.

You found yourself joining him in crying as well but you knew that they were happy tears. Bucky brought his forehead to rest on yours as the two of you both cried silently.

"You're my only person. I will love you forever." Bucky spoke quietly before he leaned in for another kiss.

The two of you didn't want to let the other go that night. Bucky suggested for him to crash Sam's room but you were sure that your friend would throw a fit the next day.

You tried to control the volume of your giggles as you squeezed to fit into the too-small couch for two. Both of your limbs were tangled messily and you both embraced each other tightly to prevent yourselves from falling down.

The rest of the night ended in endless exchanges of smiles, eskimo and deep kisses. Both you and Bucky had finally found a home in each other.

-------------------------//---------------------------

The next morning

The sunlight shone throughout the whole room and you were reluctant to open your eyes. You felt Bucky stirring behind you as he tightened his hold on your waist.

"Oh heck no, did you two dirty my couch? I didn't give up my bed for you to snuggle with grandpa here, Y/N!" A sheepish grin formed on your face before you opened your eyes to see Sam standing with his arms crossed and a mocked disapproval on his face.

"Auntie Y/N likes Uncle Bucky!" AJ exclaimed aloud as he and his brother stepped into the living room.

You felt Bucky's chest rumbled slightly behind your back and you knew that he was amused to have riled Sam early in the morning. Pulling up the thin blanket over your head as if it could save you from embarrassment, Sam continued to go on his rant.

"Morning, my love." You turned to see Bucky looking at you fondly before leaning down to kiss the top of your brow.

Today is only the start of your forever.

-------------------------//---------------------------

"Wolves are known to follow one female wolf until death."

- Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo

P.S This is my all-time favourite kdrama. Check it out if you haven't! I find that the male lead has many similar qualities I see in Bucky and what a coincidence that he is also known as a wolf in the show just like our white wolf here.

Tag list: @tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves @archaeoheart @conflicted-noxsirius @archaeoheart @idiotinnit @anxious-stitcher @lindseyrae20 @mads-weasley @taina-eny @intothesoul @oopsiedoopsie23 @detecellie @blueboxesandcats

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #tfawts #bucky barnes fanfiction #angstsfordays #marvel fanfiction #beautiful pain

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haloud · 4 years ago

Text

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 11

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Jones lets Michael in on a secret.

Excerpt:

He took a step back, but the symbols he’d touched continued to glow, burning into the surface of the pod. They pulsed, gold and fiery, for several seconds, before dimming, the colors of the pod pausing, like it was holding its breath.

Then it flickered; Michael yelled in shock as the symbols lifted from the surface, shimmering and gold and shaping themselves into a familiar-unfamiliar form.

A young woman, hair pulled back severely, wearing a stark-white uniform—at least, it looked like a uniform, almost like scrubs—looked down at Michael. The corners of her mouth turned down, a line formed between her brows that Michael saw most days in the mirror, but her eyes gleamed with some other, indefinable emotion.

Michael couldn’t breathe.

Thursday, 8:30 am

Wiping his hand across his forehead, Michael squinted down into the guts of the Acura that was his latest patient. An easy fix, the job should have been done half an hour ago, but Michael’s mind wandered mercilessly, pulling his eyes to empty space, turning his thoughts to white noise worse than the static on Sanders’s busted radio blaring out oldies from the office. With a final jerk of his wrench, he declared the Acura done and dropped the hood, pacing over to his water and taking a swig. The water did little to cool him off; he paced back to the next car of the day, popped it open, and immediately slammed it shut again with a frustrated sigh.

Fuck, he’d barely been here an hour; he had a backlog a dozen deep or more; what the fuck was wrong with him?

No breeze disturbed the air or lifted the heat, already heavy on the skin even in the early morning. On a normal day, Michael worked methodically in the peace, savoring the solitude, time slipping away under the satisfaction of skill applied and challenge met. No matter how much Sanders griped, Michael always got the job done and the customer satisfied, keeping the lights on, no matter how old and dusty they might be. But today, Michael couldn’t reach that meditative place; his skin crawled in the silence, and his teeth grit at every sound.

Walk. He needed to—walk, exercise off some of this nervous energy. He’d been cooped up after Jones, too long, his feet restless, buzzing all in his veins. It was too early for him to take a break without catching shit from Sanders, but he’d live; Michael would work late, maybe, after the strategy meeting, however long it took, to make up for it. Right now, he couldn’t stay, penned in by the junkyard fence, rattling around in it like a caged dog.

A mile in, Michael realized he had a direction. The buzzing inside him tuned to a frequency, and he followed it, a call sense-familiar, a call like the one that bound him to Max and Isobel and them to their pods, a full-body variation on the sensation of touching alien tech.

Shading his eyes, Michael pulled out his phone and dialed Isobel—nothing. No signal. Of course. With no way to know if this call resonated in Max and Isobel too, he couldn’t do anything but continue on into the desert, following a familiar heading. On foot, it might take hours. It might mean everyone coming to meet him and him not being there, everyone panicking, Alex, panicking. Could he really do that to them again? Reckless, irresponsible, selfish—but none of those thoughts penetrated past the ineffable signal, and Michael walked, to the source of it, the origin.

The cave, at least, dewed cool and refreshing, sheltered from the sun and sand. Michael’s lungs thanked it too, a sanctuary from the hot late morning filling them every step of his trek. Once inside, it was only a short distance to the pod chamber, where Michael stopped.

What the fuck? Like coming out of a trance, Michael whirled around to see the way he came, no memory of it but the body-memory of aching feet.

Nothing there. The pods shimmered on. They had no answers; they weren’t even asking him why he was there, though he asked them. Silence.

Michael crossed the cave and stood in the center of the triad. First, he touched the pod that held Isobel for their new life and held her against death, running his fingers along the cool, frictionless surface. Next, he caressed Max’s pod, and finally, he stood in front of his own, if he could call it a possession, and slid his hands into his pockets.

“Well, I’m here,” he said aloud. “What, did you need something? Spit it out.” He snorted.

“Michael?”

He flinched at the sudden noise, but turned on his heel as his mind caught up with his instinct.

“Max!” he called back. “Dude, what the fuck are we doing out here? Have you talked to Isobel—”

The entrance to the pod cave was short, barely a crevice in the rock that held this chamber, unlike the deeper mines and systems that dotted these hills. Sound traveled fast from the entrance, and so did feet.

It wasn’t Max.

“Michael,” Jones said solemnly, with a shake of his head and a cluck of his tongue. “It disappoints me to have to call you out like this. I thought, after the conviction you showed last time, that you’d return for another lesson.”

“Jones,” Michael replied, taking a step back.

“We could have walked here together; I have plenty of stories to tell to pass the time.”

“Why did we have to walk here at all?” Michael demanded.

“You may have experienced the joys of traversal, but it isn’t something to be done lightly. It takes a great deal of energy and mental focus and fortitude—”

“I’m not talking about walking,” Michael snapped, “I’m talking about here. Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“Well, call me curious,” Jones replied pleasantly, folding his hands behind his back as he began to circle the trio of pods. “I had such a small sample of the woman’s handiwork to study during my confinement, I had to see her stasis pods for myself. The craftsmanship is truly remarkable. Truly remarkable.”

He gave Max’s pod a condescending pat. Michael clenched his fists.

“Most pods have a tendency to decay or have a decaying effect on their inhabitants.” Jones continued his circuit of the pods, passing Isobel’s. Michael stepped to the side so they circled each other, unwilling to let him too close. “But the timed release on these specimens taught them to ration their energy, and here they are, close to a century after crash-landing. Remarkable.”

“Are you telling me my mother built our pods herself?”

“Built, engineered, programmed, grew…” Jones waved a hand. “All of the above. Don’t be so limited in your thinking; you know better than that.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Don’t I? I thought we were getting to know each other quite well. How has Max been lately?”

“Shut up,” Michael snarled.

Jones chuckled. “That’s no way to speak. I didn’t come just to monologue; I came to give you a gift.”

He stopped beside Michael’s pod, and Michael stopped when he did. The entrance to the cave was at Michael’s back; he should cut and run from this vantage and let Jones do whatever he wanted with the pods—but in the middle of the desert, where was he supposed to go? His phone still had no signal, and there was nothing for miles. It would be child’s play for Jones to catch him. Or Jones would wait until Michael was home, until he thought he was safe, and crawl inside his mind to pull him out again. Was anywhere safe? Could Michael be trusted now, or was Jones inside him, somewhere beneath his skin, a trigger buried beneath Michael’s jumbled memories of that day waiting to be tripped?

“When I first came to make my observations, something clever caught my eye.”

Laying a hand on the surface of the pod, Jones’s eyes gleamed as a symbol drew itself beneath his touch, the familiar three-pronged alien sigil.

“It was on the door to your cave,” Michael said. “We’ve seen it our whole lives. You know what it means?”

“Of course. But that can wait. Come closer.”

Michael stalked a few feet, still keeping a wide berth. As he approached, one side of the symbol burned brighter, a circle with a bold, askew cross within. Jones touched a few more symbols in sequence as they rose to the surface.

“If you had persevered through your ordeal instead of running straight to Max, you would be able to read this,” Jones said idly.

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘gee, Michael, sorry for the attempted murder.’”

“Apologize?” Jones still didn’t look at him, face impassive, barely a flicker of irritation passing across it. If Michael didn’t know Max so well, he would know nothing about this man at all. “What good is an apology? I told you before—pain is an excellent teacher. Of course, there are those who disagree.”

Then it flickered; Michael yelled in shock as the symbols lifted from the surface, shimmering and gold and shaping themselves into a familiar-unfamiliar form.

Michael couldn’t breathe.

“I hope you never hear this, darling,” Nora said. Or—she didn’t speak, but Michael heard her all the same.

She said, “I hope the journey goes smoothly and we land softly in a new life, and my attempts to find some kind of goodbye can just be deleted like a bad dream. But I’ve been having a lot of bad dreams, baby, and I can’t let this go without a contingency.” She huffed a short sigh. “So here I am.

“You’re sleeping in your room right now. You know its your last night in your little bed, but I’m not sure it’s sunk in exactly what that means. Is it wrong that I’m glad for it? I don’t want you to be afraid. I never want that.

“But if you’re seeing this, it means I’ve likely already failed on that front, so what is there to say except I’m sorry? I’m so sorry, baby, if you’re seeing this. I love you so, so much, and I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you how much I love you without holding you in my arms—these words, these feelings, they aren’t enough. Nothing I say could be enough. But baby, just know that you are the only thing in my heart. Your brilliant mind, your big heart, you are so wonderful, and having you in my life has been my life’s greatest blessing. No matter what, I know you’re out there—even if the worst comes to pass, even if you’re out there alone, even if you come to hate me for abandoning you, any word with you in it is worth saving, no matter what else has been destroyed.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, my son. I’ll love you even more tomorrow, for every day we’re together and every day we’re apart. Goodbye, and goodnight.”

Nora’s form reduced to gold once more, sinking back into the pod, and the silence that followed sucked everything in with it, sucked the air straight from Michael’s lungs. The whole world blurred behind his eyes, his left hand clawing over his chest, over his racing heart, his mouth working to find the words, words his mother hadn’t even known in the much more primal language of thought and emotion sown softly directly into his mind.

He'd felt, all these things, all those emotions she spoke of, hand to hand, through the grime and glass, condensed into one split-second, the atom before the bomb. The love, she’d poured it into him, a vessel too cracked and flawed to hold it. Would having words put to it help him understand? Lyrics to the harmony and melody?

“Touching,” Jones murmured.

“Shut the fuck up,” Michael said, voice cracked to pieces.

“What? I mean it. A mother’s love. No force like it in the world, wouldn’t you say?”

Jones began to circle again, approaching Michael.

“That love brought you here across the stars. Would you like to thank her? Or condemn her? She left you the burdens you bear, after all.”

“It’s not her fault the military locked her up and tortured her!” Michael shouted, a boom to his voice that shook the cave around them, shedding dust like the old days, when Michael’s rage moved furniture and shook art from the walls and moved minds to thoughts of hellfire.

“You really don’t hold a grudge? Not even in the slightest?”

“Why do you care? You hated her, right? Because she got one over on you, she got Max away from you. And she outsmarted you again here on Earth.”

At that, Jones sighed. He took a step closer, and this time Michael stood his ground, his mother-made pod at his back. Jones’s eyes shone glassy in the low, shifting light.

“Thank you, Michael, for that eloquent declaration of your loyalties. I’m disappointed in you, but it does uncomplicate things.”

He flicked his hand and Michael flew across the cave, head slamming sickly into the wall, like Michael had flung Jones when he fled from him the last time. As the world swam and a hot trickle wound down the back of Michael’s neck, Jones approached leisurely.

“See, for a sec, I thought the soft approach was working on you, Michael. I thought my charm was still good, even after all these years. You want to learn. You want the knowledge, the understanding. You want to stand in the light of the truth. Don’t you?”

Michael spat, and Jones ground him a few feet up the wall, his back scraping stone inch by jagged inch.

“So loyal. So dedicated. There is so damn much of that woman in you, no matter what kind of taint this rat-hole planet has left you with, human.”

The word oozed off his tongue like a slur.

A sneer on his face, Jones continued, “I hope it gives you solace while it can. I know it has a certain soothing effect on my own guilty conscience.”

“You’re fucking insane!” Michael gasped out. He flung his mind at every loose object around him, but nothing budged, his powers weak and fickle and inadequate.

In rage, they’d never failed him. But beneath his placid face, in Jones was something stronger than Michael, stronger than rage. But not stronger than Michael’s mother; not stronger than Nora Truman; not stronger than her by any other name she may have claimed in languages Michael would never speak.

Jones wasn’t stronger than her. So Michael would find a way. She sacrificed too much for him to give up now.

“Even on this life-forsaken psych-dumb wasteland planet, you have to understand that there are crimes and there are punishments,” Jones seethed. His composure was cracking, the man they’d first met in that cave pushing through the veneer he’d constructed over the months he’d been among them. He didn’t wait for Michael to respond, ranting on, “She stole from me. Ran from me, a fucking pirate! She stole my healer! My people! My heir. She had no right! And, not content in her flagrant audacity, she put me in a fucking hole in the ground! There are crimes and punishments. But she is beyond me now.”

Michael’s back lifted from the wall and slammed down again. He groaned as his vision went gray and his stomach heaved.

“She got what was coming to her. A fitting enough end, destroyed by the world she thought would hide her. But how can I be satisfied without a little vengeance of my own? Now that I’ve seen her message, my path at last is clear. You’ll do.”

The invisible iron bars pinning Michael six feet in the air disappeared, and he slumped to the hard-packed floor, air sawing through his chest, ribs screaming with every wheeze.

“Wouldn’t she be proud to see you now,” Jones murmured, and everything went dark.

When Michael came to, the world swam dim and gold into view, and squinting and wincing it took him a full minute to absorb his surroundings. He was slumped on the ground beneath the ladder of his workshop. Every bone and muscle ached; every breath seared inside him and ached its way back out.

“Michael! There you are. For a moment I was afraid in my excitement you’d gotten a little ahead of me,” Jones cried jubilant from across the room.

Staggering to his knees, Michael groaned, “Don’t fucking touch—how do you even—know this—”

“Either I plucked it out of your ripe mind when you offered it to me or I know someone who knows you,” Jones said. Something clanked as he tossed it. “Believe whichever, it doesn’t matter to me.”

He flung the tarp from Michael’s worktable, baring the console skeleton before his greedy eyes.

“This—” He laughed. “You truly are a marvel, you stupid boy. What I wouldn’t give for time and space to study you. Mold you. It’s almost a pity.”

“If Max is what you want, he’ll never forgive you if you kill me,” Michael slurred.

“Max is a piece of the puzzle. One piece,” Jones said. “And there have to be three. Or hasn’t anyone told you?”

Jones whirled away and went back to rifling through Michael’s papers, muttering to himself. Inching a little more upright, Michael craned his neck to look at the opening to the bunker, thrown wide, sunlight streaming down. He blinked in the sunlight piercing his pounding head, frantically trying to calculate the time. How close were they to crossing paths with everyone? Had Michael’s stupid wandering called the fox right in? Alex, Isobel, Max, Maria—

“I know, I know, no time to waste,” Jones said. “As entertaining as your little drawings are. We have things to be getting on with.”

With one hand, he seized the console, and with the other, he seized Michael, seized each of his organs in brutal turn, Michael sputtering and choking, writhing for relief that wouldn’t come, a beetle crushed beneath a boot.

“Let’s go somewhere we won’t be interrupted.”

#malex fic #my fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #mr. jones

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heartofsnark · 4 years ago

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Six): Do I Sink or Do I Float Now?

Notes: Still posting my little backlog of chapters!~ In this one we get Maelstrom, along with some Vik and Misty interactions that were really fun to write of course heavy on our precious boy Jackie too.

Word Count: 9004

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, cursing, installation of cyberware.

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

With a tightness in her chest and a heavy sigh, V answers Dex’s call. She’ll play it by ear and maybe wait until they’re in person to drop the news about Evelyn. The client really had to drag her into this bullshit, didn’t she?

“How're things lookin', Miss. V?”

“Client had a recording that helped us out, Konpeki Plaza.”

“Beautiful. T-Bug already called, said she's workin' her magic. And the Flathead?”

“On it now and quick question, how are we getting into Konpeki?”

“Through the front door, how else? I'm no leadhead. Ain't gonna leave no trace for them to follow 'cause we gonna do this clean an' on the hush-hush,” Dex confirms her beliefs, she needs cyberware, something.

“Got it, on my way to get the Flathead, now.”

“T-Bug says no chance at the chip without that bot. To work, then, Miss V.”

He hangs up and V leaves Lizzie’s bar, night air cold on her exposed skin. She’ll swing by her apartment, drop by Vik’s, and then meet up with Jackie at All Foods. V makes a beeline to her car, starting a call and patching a call to Jackie through the radio speaker.

“Jackie,” she signs one handed as she drives, “Met the client. Her name's Parker. Evelyn Parker.”

“OK. Whatcha waitin' for? Gimme the deets. Who is she? What's she like?”

“Shady as fuck. Doll, I think, fucks Yorinobu Arasaka and now she wants to fuck him over.”

“Don’t seem that odd.”

“She’s...off, Jackie. Hiding something, big, I just. Don’t trust her, don’t think she’s a bad person, just… not to be trusted.”

“Yeah, sounds like nerves talkin' to me. Makes everyone seem suspect. Stress can kill you, y'know.”

“Yeah, yeah, so you tell me.”

“What about Militech?”

“I met with the corpo.”

“V… “

“Hear me out, woman gave me hell and a spiked chip, wanted me to pay on Militech’s dime but the chip would have fried Maelstrom and left us cleaning up the mess.”

“Of course, I told you, V.”

“But, I managed to crack it. Maelstrom plays nice, I got a clean ten grand off of Maelstrom. Chrome snorters pull bullshit; we fuck them and send a middle finger to Militech while we’re at it. We can talk it out more when we meet.”

“Alright, waitin' for ya at All Foods, ya know. Not gettin' any younger.”

“Well, grab something to eat, going to be a while longer.”

“Chingada madre, V, what now?”

“Konpeki Plaza, hotel we got to get into. They have a no weapon policy and way Dex talks that the only way in, is through the front door. “

“And?”

“And, if shit goes sideways, I don’t want to be caught with my pants down, in a gunfight without a weapon. Need cyberware, something they can’t confiscate, so I’ll be ready for worst case scenario. So, I’m grabbing my savings and making a trip to see Vik.”

“Stress stress, all you do is stress, but I’m glad you’re finally spending your fucking money. What you trying to get?”

“You’ll see when we meet up, who knows, might end up using it on some Maelstrommers.”

“Hehe, see you soon, V.”

V hangs up and parks outside her megabuilding, sliding her mask off and into her bag before running in. She keeps her head down and doesn’t talk as she rushes to just get her stash of cash out from under the bed. Willing the elevator to move faster and annoyed when she presses her hand to the intercom to unlock her door and it takes a second too long for the lock to validate her SID chip. She opens the under bed compartment, finding her money stash next to her toy stash. Then it’s back out to her car and driving out to Vik’s.

She parks in the same place Jackie did that morning, keeping her head down as she wades through the crowd, trying not to stare at the strippers in the club window across from Misty’s store and avoiding eye contact with Gary; the slightly crazy homeless man who likes to yell about conspiracies. V peeks into Misty’s shop and smiles when she sees the woman at the little register and desk. Her face lit by the cyan neon sign advertising her prices for chakra readings.

“Hey, V.” Misty smiles at her, she’s the cutest little thing, granted she’s a bit taller than V. A short airy chin length bob of bleached hair, heavy black makeup, and big green eyes.

“Hey, Misty,” V signs as she walks in, her choker translator already turned on

“Heard you and Jackie have a new job.” There’s a hint of something sad to her voice, a pain to her eyes.

“You don’t seem excited.”

“Just...worried; bigger jobs, bigger risks.”

“I know, I’ll do my best to watch out for him, promise.”

“I know you will, V.”

“You’ll have to read our cards when you get the chance.” Its become a tradition, the little peek into the future easing some of Misty’s nerves.

“Please, Jackie’s heart chakra was a little out of whack and his aura needs tending. Keep him away from mean reds, if you can.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Speaking of which…”

“Oh no.”

“You need to let me adjust your chakras, V!~”

“Yeah… I don’t know about that one…”

“Your crown and throat chakras are so messy, heart chakra too actually, you’re just spiritually kind of a wreck, V.”

“You can tell that just by looking at me.”

“I could tell after my first conversation with you.”

“Funny, I’ll think about it. For now, I got to see Vik.”

“He’s in the clinic, go on in.”

V gives Misty a pat on the shoulder as she walks around and goes out the back door of the older woman’s store into the alleyway behind it. A soft meow rings out, just before the stairs that go down to Vik’s is a little sphinx cat with big golden eyes. The merc crouches down and scritches it’s back, smiling at the cutie, softly meowing back at it. Its such a cute kitty. One more little pat and she separates herself from the cat and goes down the stairs to Vik’s clinic. She’s not sure how Vik can stand to stay in the dank basement level clinic all day, but she’s thankful he’s always easy to find when she needs him. Through the little metal gateway door she can already see him at a workbench, watching a boxing match on a small TV.

“Viky! How’s my favorite ripper?” She greets him as she walks through, grinning as the older man spins his chair to look at her.

The ripper’s eyes drop down for a second seeing the box she has held to her stomach with one arm. He smiles softly, the expression forming wrinkles around his eyes. He’s an older man, dark hair just starting to thin on the back of his head. Tattooed forearms with memories of his boxing days and tinted glasses on his nose.

“Good to see you too, V. It's been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure today?”

“Got a new gig, new fixer, sure Jackie’s already talked your ear off about it.”

“Dexter Deshawn… Known quantity, from the Afterlife. No denying you're movin' up…” Vik tells her but there’s a drag in his voice, V is starting to get the distinct impression that no one is as excited for this as her and Jackie are. Hell, she’s not even as excited as Jackie, Evelyn’s offer still heavy on her mind.

“Something you’re not telling me?”

“Keep your guard up, that's all. I've heard some things about Dex. He's not as "chill" as he makes himself out to be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she nods, Dex doesn’t seem to shady at the moment, but she trusts Vik’s opinion, “as for right now, plan is for me and Jackie to get into a hotel, pretend we’re guests. Hotel’s got a strict no guns policy, so… need a weapon they can’t take off of me.”

“That so? You finally caving and getting the projectile launcher?”

“No, I was thinking Mantis Blades, actually. Quieter, if shit goes off the rails it’d be better to have something that doesn’t tell everyone where we are.”

“And you get to add two more blades to your collection,” Vik teases, knowing her affinity for swords, knives, and daggers over firearms.

“Hey, doesn’t hurt to stick to what I know, besides with shit getting real… need better tech.”

“Well alright,” Vik stands and kicks away his wheeled seat, walking towards his work station, and getting the injector, “but lemme guess- hasn’t paid you yet.”

“No, but, I brought what I got. I know it’s not enough but, if you’re fine with me paying so much now and the rest later, I-”

Vik puts a hand up and stops her from pushing the little box of cash at him, a soft smile on his face. Jackie likes to say Vik has a soft spot for her, sometimes she doubts it but when he gives her that soft almost kind fatherly look, she can’t help but think Jackie might be right.

“Keep it.”

“No, don’t be ridiculous, I should at least give you something upfront, I-”

“We'll work something out later. Right now I'm just out to make sure you get back in one piece. Keep that back for now and we can figure it out once you get paid, alright?”

“Got no idea what I did to deserve you, Vik.”

“Who knows?” He laughs and shoots an injection into his forearm, to help steady and loosen up his organic hand, flexing the fingers on his ripper glove, “go ahead and get comfy.”

V nods and puts her cash stash in her bag before climbing up into the doctor’s chair, taking a deep breath. Even with Vik, the only doctor she trusts, she always finds herself nervous in his chair. She’s slowly grown more accustomed to the importance of cyberware and tech in Night City, but it still just feels overwhelming at times to think of carving out pieces of herself for it. V is fairly sure other than monks she’s one of the only people past the age of eighteen who doesn’t have optics, kids carving their eyes out as soon as a doc is willing to do it. This is important, she needs to be prepared for the worst case scenario, but she is about to have a significant portion of her arms removed to be replaced with swords. The gravity of that still sits heavy on her chest.

“Jack in and lay those major league arms down for me.”

Vik pulls up two tables on each side of the chair and V lays her arms down for him, trying to steady her breathing. Her eyes linger on the brand on her left wrist, the one that marked her place within her nomad clan. She wonders if that part of her arm will be taken off, skin removed with synthetic Real Skin stuff. He sits in his little wheeled stool, looking over her scans.

“Looks like you’ve actually been taking your meds.”

“Got an alarm on my phone now, nearly forgot just this morning,” she switches to spoken English, though her hands twitch to sign, she doesn’t want to move them just in case.

“Whatever helps, last thing you need is your body trying to kill itself.”

“But it's so good at that.”

“Oh I know it is,” he pushes himself to get to the other side of the table, pushing a sharp injection into her arm just below her elbow, “a bit of anesthetic.” Then he pushes her sleeve up higher, so he can reach her bicep, another shot.

“What’s that one?”

“Anti-anxiety, though judging by the wide eyed look on your face, it’s gonna take a second to kick in.”

“Oh, yeah… sorry.”

“It's okay, know this ain’t your thing. Most arm cyberware is fairly invasive, but I got some tricks up my sleeve. Do my best to give you the tech you need and leave as much ‘ganic material intact as I can.”

“I know, I trust you.”

Slowly, her body numbs. The strong anesthetic spreads into her blood and impacting every inch of her. Her breathing feels more stable and her heart rate seems to slow back to normal, a sense of calm coming over her. Vik is a good man, she knows that, he’d never do anything that isn’t needed and wouldn’t ever try to hurt her. He starts to roll out the tech to carve her arms open and put blades inside.

She closes her eyes and lays her head back, because she doesn’t want to see, it will just freak her out more. Put her trust in fate and more importantly Vik to take care of it. V feels nothing, only soft whirrs of tech.

“Feel anything?”

“Never do. Ask me that every time, you know. Not as if things are gonna be any different today.”

“Sure thing, kid, I mean not like there's any risk of a stroke or paralysis. But... heh, what do I know? I'm just a doctor.”

“Okay, okay, I getcha.”

“You got your contacts with you?”

“Yeah, in my bag.”

“Once we get your blades in, I’ll take a look at them, think we can bump them up with some Kiroshi tech.”

“You’re the best, Vik.”

“So, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, nearly forgot, you’ll get a kick out of this. Coach Fred in my building wants me to do some fights.”

“Does he now?”

“Mmhmm, really tried to sell it too, he believes in me. Dude, I’m fucking five feet tall, but okay.”

“Well,” Vik chuckles, “to be fair, you may be small, but I’ve seen you take down guys twice your size.”

“That’s merc work, Vik; don’t think they’d let me stab my opponent in the ring.”

“That is usually frowned upon.”

They make small talk as he works, the chatter easing her nerves, the little traces of anxiety the medicine can’t touch. Vik tries to convince her she could hold her own in a boxing fight, though unlike Coach Fred, it feels less like a sales pitch coming from Vik. From him it feels more like a dad trying to convince their kid they’ll be good at soccer if they just get out there and try it.

“Alright, we’re done, kid. Take a look.”

V takes a deep breath and does just that, Looking down at arms that still seem to be very much her own but with silver detailing from her knuckles to her elbows. They look nice, the Mantis Blades and Projectile Launcher are the better looking arm cyberware options in her opinion. Like accents, little detailing, rather than making arms look more tech than flesh. It’s her nails still, painted her favorite bright blue, she can still see her freckles. And when she twists her forearms she finds her brand still there.

“Wow, really did save as much skin as you could.”

“Mmhmm, still you, just a few added touches. The blades act on intention and reflex, stand up and give it a try. Just don’t cut anything I need.”

V gets out of the chair, taking a few steps to the most cleared off portion of the room. Vik scoots himself back on the stool. Just what she’d need, to finally get cyberware beyond the basics and end up accidentally gutting her favorite ripper. With the thought and a tensing of her forearms, the blades extend out.

“Woah.”

She marvels at it, the way her flesh has opened up, can see the metal compartment almost where the blades were stored and hidden inside. Carefully, she retracts the blade in one arm to touch the other. Curiously she touches where the skin meets metal, nerves in the flesh still, but when she touches inside of the compartment she feels nothing. She presses down into the steel and when she does so hard enough, she can feel it start to put pressure on real organic tissue. She pulls her fingers away and retracts the blade; extending and pulling them back a few times, getting the feel for them.

“Take it you’re a fan?”

“Its so cool.”

“Still wish you got the Launcher instead?”

“Maybe a little bit,” she tests out signing, thankful the metal additions don’t interfere with her ability to do it, “I’m good with knives and katanas, so having a cannon in my arm would add a bit of variety.”

“Maybe your next job.”

“You can take them out and do that?”

“Mmhmm, now-a-days even the military grade stuff is designed to be adaptable, you can rip ‘em out and change it up whenever you see fit. So, you can have whatever new tech you want when you want it.”

“The innovations of consumerism, huh?”

“Something like that,” he laughs, “hand me your contacts and I’ll upgrade them for you.”

She does just that, watching him take the contacts and put them in a device. While he tinkers with those, V keeps playing with her new toys. Making sure she knows exactly what will and won’t trigger the blades. Flexing alone won’t extend them, folding and twisting her forearms. It requires the intention too, linked to she assumes her neural plants and cyberdeck. Which means she should be able to hug someone without decapitating them, a skill she does occasionally enjoy having. Even if Jackie says her hugs are half ass. Got to hug people like you’ll never see them again, because in Night City that might be the case; according to him.

“All done, test them out,” Vik hands her back the contact case and she carefully places them in. The interface lights up for a moment, adjusting to the new tech. She looks around, her vision a bit clearer.

“Image looks clearer.”

“Installed threat detection and weak spot detection tech too. Anyone who isn’t known to you, who the soft picks up as an enemy sees you, it’ll highlight them and tell you what their weak points are.”

“That’s awesome, I don’t know what to say Vik, this is incredible.”

“Figured, if you needed the blade for some hotel, you’d probably have to ditch the mask. So, it doesn't hurt to bump up the contacts.”

“Yeah...oh…guess your right, can’t play corp hotel guest in a mask, can I…”

“Just now realizing that?”

“Maybe… but more importantly. The blades, the contacts. I don’t know what to say, Vik, I…”

“Say you’ll take this and remember the dosage. Two whiffs now and another two in an hour,” he hands her a medicine inhalant, “mild stim. Should boost neurotransmission in the short term and muffle some of the side effects while the implant takes.”

“Thanks Vik, seriously, I owe you big. You sure you don’t want some cash up front? I really don’t mind, I-”

“Won’t hear it. Go on, kid. Show 'em what you're made of,” he grins at her, rolling back over to his desk, “And once you hit the big leagues, don't forget where you came from.”

A part of her wonders if it’s meant as a joke or a serious concern, knowing how much he seemed to worry about her getting a job from Dex. No matter if she hits the major leagues, Vik will always be her go to ripper. She comes up behind him where he’s gone back to watching TV and throws an arm around his neck in a sort of hug, squeezing him close. The kind of hug Jackie would mock, but full scale embraces are still...weird.

“Couldn’t if I tried, Vik, thanks again.”

“No problem, kiddo,” he pats her hand where it sits on his chest, “grab your candy and get going.”

V giggles, and pats his shoulder as she pulls away. She wonders if any of his other patients end up grabbing candy from the bowl on his desk. If Vik does the same joke with anyone else now that she kicked it off, a part of her hopes not. She grabs a handful of honeyed candies, popping one in her mouth as she leaves his clinic through the metal gate. The cat is still there when she gets back out to street level, she gives it a few more scratches, then takes the pathway back through Misty’s shop.

“Vik take care of you?” The bleached blonde greets V as she comes in.

“Sure did, I got swords in my arms.”

That gets a giggle out of her, V showing off the indentations and designs of the Mantis Blades. Misty runs her fingers along them, smiling at the merc.

“Very nice, take it you’re off to meet Jackie, now?” There’s still some worry in Misty’s eyes, a sadness to her tone.

“Yeah, got to get a combat bot. Shouldn’t take too long, Maelstrom isn’t anything we haven’t handled before. You know that.”

“I do, I do,” Misty fiddles her fingers together, “its not them I’m worried about, it’s just this whole… thing with Dex and this heist. Just got a bad feeling. The bigger your jobs get, the more risks, you know. I’m sorry...sure you don’t want to hear me whine.”

“Hey, hey,” V touches Misty’s shoulder, “its not whining. You love Jackie, it’s only natural to be worried.”

“Thanks, Jackie thinks this job will set us up for life, that he’ll finally be able to take care of me like I deserve… “

“And what do you think?”

“That is dreams are gonna get him killed one day and he doesn’t seem to care…”

“He cares, he does. He just...thinks the risk is worth it, that if he does this he can build a better future.”

“I know, just can’t shake the feeling he’s flying too close to the sun, I guess,” Misty says, wrapping her arms around herself. V knows that anxiety well and can’t say she even has the best feeling about this job. But, this is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Hey, want to go ahead and do that tarot reading? Might make you feel better, see what the fates got in store.”

“Yeah,” Misty smiles softly, “I’d like that.”

Misty grabs her deck, the one V and Jackie picked out for her, as the merc comes around to the other side of the table. Jackie and V will be with each other the whole time, so if V’s future comes up clean, it means he can’t be too bad off. If nothing else, it offers a little distraction from anxiety and it won’t kill Jackie to wait just another ten or so minutes.

“If my future’s clean, Jackie’s won’t be too bad. Guy’s always had better luck than me, anyway.”

“I think he’d say otherwise,” Misty laughs, shuffling the cards, “now, focus on the recent past and what you expect in the future.”

First card down, a man walking towards a cliff with a dog trotting along after him.

“The Fool, that’d be you.”

“So the cards think I’m an idiot, cool,” V rolls her eye, not missing the shadow of a smile across Misty’s lips.

“The Fool symbolizes the beginning of a journey. You brim with enthusiasm, yet remain unaware of both your capabilities and the threats you face.”

“So...the cards think I'm an idiot.”

“Just a little bit,” Misty teases, laying down the next card, “The Wheel of Fortune,. The danger is greater than you think. It will come suddenly, without warning. Conflict is unavoidable.”

“Fair enough.”

Another card down, this one upside down.

“The reversed Chariot reveals that such danger is tied to your love of risk. Do not aim too high, V.”

“I’m short, got nowhere else to aim.”

Misty looks up at V under her brow, despite the hint of a smile, the meaning is clear. This is serious and V should take it with some level of seriousness. But, if she’s honest, V’s just happy to see Misty smiling at all.

“And finally, The Magician… interesting.”

“Why’s that?”

“You may meet someone fascinating, someone charismatic. Maybe even someone you will grow to love?”

“Ew.”

Misty laughs as V makes a face at the word love and how Misty dragged the word out; the implication clear and gross. Why the fuck is fate concerned with V’s romantic life when she’s about to pull off a heist on Ara-fucking-Saka.

“You can’t ‘ew’ fate, V!” Misty scolds her between giggles, smile now wide and bright.

“I can when fate is being fucking gross.”

“Love isn’t gross, V. It's beautiful.”

“Ew.”

“Get out of my shop,” Misty laughs and rolls her eyes, putting the cards back in her deck.

“Talk to you, later.”

Misty waves her off and V leaves out, content that she lightened Misty’s mood if only for a moment. She avoids eye contact with Gary as she makes a beeline back to her car, putting her new contacts back in the case and that in her bag. As useful as they are, she’ll use her mask for the Maelstrom job. For the usual reasons; enjoying her anonymity and well, people tend to take her a bit more seriously when they can’t see her baby face.

V pulls up outside of All Foods, an abandoned food plant that Maelstrom has turned into their newest HQ. Jackie is already parked sitting on his arch, poor guy has been waiting on her for entirely too long. She puts her mask back on and hops out, walking up towards him, seeing his posture brighten up when he spots her walking down the street.

“About time, V. Mi madre always said patience pays off, but christ.”

“Sorry, a lot of shit to take care of. Most prepwork we’ve ever had to put in.”

“Well, fill me in.”

“Ran through the BD with the client and T-Bug, know where the chip is and where we’re trying to get too. But we need the bot from Maelstrom to nuke the hotel’s subnet and make sure we don’t catch lead from a turret. Dex paid them for it, but we got no idea if they’re going to honor that.”

“He paid up front, hijole.”

“Yep, I met up with the Militech rep too. Gave me the spiked chip, but I reworked it. Got a chip with clean eddies on it and a newly...adjusted… chip that will spike Maelstrom and Militech.”

“So, what’s the play?”

“Doubt they’re going to just honor the original buy, but if they play nice, figured we return the favor. Give them the clean eddies and call it done.”

“But Maelstrom don’t play nice. Gang world ain't too complicated, Might's right, the strong survive. Either you fuck others, or you get fucked.”

“Then we fuck them over right back, they want to play dirty, give them the spiked chip and take what we want. Spike chips in my left pocket, clean one in the right,” she pats her pockets, “so if you see me get the chip from the left, get ready.”

“Understood and the new chrome?”

“Mantis Blades, like I said, hotels got a no iron policy and if shit goes wrong, I want to be ready. And, hell, if Maelstrom plays dirty, I might get a little practice tonight.”

“How the hell you swing those?”

“Vik, gave me chrome on credit, again. Too nice for his own good, I swear.”

“Pff,” Jackie laughs, “only when it comes to you, chica.”

“Don’t know why.”

“Told ya, he says you got a good heart. Probably give you a second one for free just for that.”

“Enough, enough; lets get this taken care of.”

“Into the borgbeasts den, then.”

“Onward.” With that Jackie climbs off his bike, leading the way and she follows behind.

“I hate these 'borg fuckers. Just had to be them…”

“Gang like any other,” V tells him.

Night has fallen over the city, lit by streetlamps and fires in a trash can. Northside all but abandoned, one of the only places where the night isn’t colored by neon citylights. They walk past trash and shrapnel, towards the door. An intercom button on the wall.

“Take the Valentinos. They follow God and the Santa Madre. Honor means something to 'em. You know what they want, how they get it, and what pisses 'em the fuck off. With Maelstrom, you just never know.”

“Think you might be a touch bias?”

“Heh, maybe, go on, let 'em know we're here.”

With the V presses the intercom button waiting for it to ring, a few moment pass before a low growl of a voice finally responds.

“Hm, don't know you.”

“Dex sent us.” V is increasingly thankful his name is easy enough to quickly finger spell. If they keep working with him, she may have to come up with a name sign though.

“Main room. We been waiting,” the Malestom member tells her and the front doors slide open.

The first room is dark with only a fluorescent light and the red glow of active turrets within it. There’s a distinct stink of mildew, rot, and mold. The stench of it choking V as she steps in after Jackie.

“Cozy place. Could use a few plants, though,” Jackie makes a snide remark, as his heavy steps ring through the room, tech lines the walls and is stacked up on shelves, “Oh yeah. They look damn well prepared.”

“Food factory turned into a fucking armory, lovely.”

“Gear from the Jacked convoy, gotta be… Must've been all over it like maggots on dead meat.”

“Everything’s marked Militech,” she confirms as they take a corner and walk down a short flight of stairs.

“Psycho borgs chromed out with military-grade hardware worth millions... Should be fun.”

“Yeah, a real party.”

They take a turn past a cluster of steel lockers, grime coated, with old abandoned anti-contamination suits still inside. Another turn past a neon red lit elevator shaft, the old factory is a mechanical maze. No doubt a reason why the chrome gang picked it; walls covered in their graffiti. They walk up another staircase; mines on every step, deactivating before them.

“Anti-personnel mine,” V comments, “directional shrapnel spitter.”

“Subtle…”

Around a corner, through another passageway, and up another flight of stairs. Each step echoes, the entire place dark except for blips colored by red and the odd white fluorescents. Jackie stops when the steps lead to a door. Nodding his head at it, giving V the go ahead to open it. She rolls up the shutter door and is suddenly blinded with bright stark white light, chill curling around her and creeping through her thin cropped top. It makes sense, the former meat packaging plant needing a room to stay cold.

“Stay cool… They’re just tryin’ to spook us,” Jackie tells her as she steps forward.

Bright yellow forms patterns across the metal floor, spot lights, and stacks of crates marked Militech. Security cameras and she sees the first glimpse of Maelstrom members since they’ve stepped into the plant. One sitting on a crate, armed and watching with their signature red glowing optics. Another on a platform over seeing them.

“Get in the elevator, fuckin’ sheep,” the Maelstrommer barks at them.

“Thought those cabrones only swiped a couple crates, not a whole fuckin’ semi,” Jackie comments under his breath as they walk past the crates and to the end of the room. Double doors open up to a freight elevator.

“This is going to be a hoot, ain’t it?” The doors to the elevator close and it starts it’s journey upwards.

“It’s all right, keep chilled, V. Remember, we're on their turf.”

“Yeah, because I’m the one who loses their chill.”

“I’m always chill-”

The elevator comes to a stop before Jackie can finish his though, the door on the other end opening and a Maelstrom member staring at them. He has the red glowing spider like optics and little mechanical dreads on the back of his head. What’s visible of his arms and chest is a mishmash of scar tissue and metal. Over his shoulders, she can see two other gang members. One holding a shotgun and the other plugged into a netrunner chair, glowing under the light of red screens.

“What do you want?” He’s the guy who spoke to them over the intercom.

“Got a bot we need, model MT0D12, Flat Head. Our fixer already paid for it, we’re just here to pick it up.”

“Hmm, names Dum-Dum,” he points to the side with his gun and starts to move back into the room, “Now, couch. Plant it.”

She walks into the room, and it seems like this could go well. They’ve been mostly chill, gruff sure, but nothing bad. In the center of the room just before a large roll up garage door is a table and two torn up red leather couches. Another Maelstrom member sits on the table. She doesn’t hesitate, sitting down on the couch closest to her, looking at the bright vending machine the gangers have graffitied over. Dum-Dum puts one foot up on the other couch and follows his line of sight to Jackie, who moves a little slower, his arms crossed as he moves next to the other couch and only stands.

“Ahh, well, shit. Goes for you too,” Dum-Dum tells him and she expects Jackie to listen, he said himself this is their turf and they should keep try to stay chill.

“I'll stand.”

Or… he’ll let his pride get the better of him and refuse. Its hard to read the emotions on a Maelstrom member's face, so chromed you can tell what the hell is going on. But the shift in volume is telling enough.

“This so fuckin' hard? Fuckin' ass on the fuckin' couch!”

“Make me,” Jackie says, voice low as he gets into Dum-Dum’s face. As much as he can while being nearly a head taller than the Maelstrom member.

“Thought you'd never ask. Sit your ass down 'fore I plant a bullet in your skull.’

“Jackie,” she signs with one hand and pats his shoulder, catching his attention, “think it’d be best to just sit down, keep everything chill, remember?”

“This ain't gonna end well but… shit…” And with that Jackie finally sits down, sinking into graffiti covered red leather.

“Well, all right,” Dum-Dum gets a drug inhalant from his pocket, sitting down on the table in front of V and offering it to her, “Come on, gotta lighten up. Take a hit.”

The inhalant is red and purple; if she had to guess, Black Lace. An upper that’s high is said to feel reminiscent of manic Cyberpsychosis. Corps used to feed it to their troops by the gallon, cuts off pain receptors and made everyday men into unstoppable killing machines.

“Appreciate the offer, but weed’s the hardest shit I touch,” V dismisses the offer as politely as she can. She knows it’d endear her to them, maybe, but… drugs aren’t really her thing. And when it is, she prefers mellow to mania.

Dum-Dum huffs the inhalant, dipping his head back and smoke billowing from his nose. Then exhaling a steady stream of it. She can see Jackie cringing and trying not to breath in the aftermath of Dum-Dum’s high.

“Whatever you say, straight edged princess.”

The member sitting next to Dum-Dum moves as nother brings out a large Militech case, black with a yellow lock. It’s put down on the table with a heavy thud.

“Here we go. The Flathead, model MT0D12.”

“Need to see it.” She’s not going go off of good faith, assuming it’s all there and works.

“Suit yourself.”

He opens the case and she sees the spider like bot inside, it's almost cute, Dum-Dum shakes the control shard at them as he talks.

“Fuckin' tricked out this thing. Dynamic, thermo-optic camo armor.”

He puts the control shard into a slot at the base of his skull, all but the middle of his optic eyes going dim as the bot comes to life within the crate. It stands at attention, moves it’s head and shimmies it’s legs. Just a cute mechanical spider; why did they make military combat tech cute?

“Full cognitive immersion with a Raven controller.”

The bot goes invisible which is impressive, but V’s eye is drawn elsewhere. A steady creak and she sees the garage door behind Dum-Dum is starting to roll up. Screens and the back of a leather chair, a man sitting down visible. She can’t truly tell, but if she had to wager a guess, Royce.

“Pimped out, prototype actuators made of titanium-vanadium-Kevlar composite.”

Dum-Dum continues to sell them on the bot as the door fully opens behind him, the chair turning and her seeing that she was right. Royce, the newest Maelstrom leader looking into the deal with the same glowing red optics, though his set so far back in his skull he’s missing gray matter.

“'N' watch this,” Dum-Dum says he sends the bot to move around the base, “Fully integrated link, too, so when the spider starts crawlin' up walls, danglin' from ceilings…” He starts to sound sick, his stomach churning as he sees the view of the bot.

“Could lose your lunch?” V can’t help but tease, Royce is up now, one hand on the garage door. Like he’s waiting, ready to pounce the second he hears something he don’t like. Those red optic staring V down.

“So, what you think?” Dum-Dum asks as he returns the bot to its case.

“Exactly what we’re after, we’ll take it.”

“Preem, sure, yeah,” Dum-Dum puts the control shard back in the case, “let’s see your cred.”

“Brick already got paid for it.”

A metal boom rings out, those words snapping Royce into action as he punches his fist against the door. Stomping forward and Dum-Dum jumps, rushing off the table as Royce marches towards V.

“Brick got it…heh,” the red shine of metal, a gun pressed to her head, “I don't see any fuckin' Brick around here, do you?!”

“Fuck Brick then, lets cut a new deal,” she doesn’t hesitate, refuses to flinch or show fear.

He presses the gun in tighter, leaning down into her face, the red optic nearly blinding. So close she can see the scars around the tech and just deeply imbedded they truly are, He lets out a low hum as he leans in, testing her and she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t break eye contact. Then he pulls back.

“Hah! Now that's good business sense! All right, you want the Flathead? I better see some eddies.”

She reaches into her left pocket. She would have done this clean, would have paid and been on her way. But Royce wanted a fight, wanted to put iron to her head and try to shake her down. So, she’ll burn his whole goddamn operation to the ground.

“Got them right here,” she hands him the credchip.

“Just like that? Without battin' a fuckin' eye?! Hahah!”

“Need the bot, just take the cash and hand it over, no trouble needed.”

“Look at this fuckin' girl scout! You know all your knots, got all your badges?! Hahaha!”

“Hilarious, you want the money or not?”

“Y'know, ya never did say who sent you, never did say who you're workin' for?”

“Yes, yes I fucking did, Dex.”

“Dexter DeShawn… The lard ass who punching-animal-fucked half of Pacifica? Mean he ain't dead?”

“Swear to god, I’m going to blow my own brains out before you can! You want my fucking money or you want to bore me to death?”

“Fine,” he starts to grab the chip when there’s a shake in metal, a rumble and an alarm starts to blare. Walls of the factory shake, the faint sound of gunfire.

“What the…? Shit Militech!” Dum-Dum yells out, they must have known the corp was on their tail.

“Rusty fucking cunt,” Royce curses and the Maelstrom members start to rush out and V moves; grabbing the Flathead case and stuffing it into her backpack as soon as eyes aren’t on them.

“Shit, Militech got antsy” Jackie tells her over the alarm.

“Who gives a shit, we got-”

“Hey!” Dum-Dum yells back at them, from a higher platform, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to fight them for the bot, “lets get the fuck out of here, follow me.”

Her and Jackie exchange a look, V just shrugging, if he wants to help out why not. V quickly climbs up the yellow ladder up to the platform, following behind Dum-Dum, Jackie not far behind her. Dum-Dum opens a door and it opens into what a room with consoles and the stench of meat hanging in the air.

“Ay, huele feo, this meat! Ack.. I can taste it,” Jackie sounds like he’s on the verge of puking his guts up.

“Production line, besides, thought you liked meat?”

“We'll ride the line. Flip it on.”

V follows behind Dum-Dum, climbing up a set of crates and onto a scaffolding. The production line is blocked, unmoving in years she’d assume. But on a console is a large red button lined with yellow, she punches it and metal sheets moves from the way, production line whirring to life as red lights color the metal passageways. Dum-Dum jumps across the small gap and climbs down the ladder.

“Hey, Doo Dum or whatever your name is, why you even helpin' us??” Jackie asks as V jumps the little gap and platforms but skips the ladder, jumping down the short distance.

“I'm not. Helpin' myself. Soon as the shootin' starts, I got two walkin' bullet sponges with me. Sponges who'll shoot back.”

The three walk through the narrow corridor, production line billow steam at them as the pathway opens up to another raised section of scaffolding, a section of it missing and allowing them to drop through and down onto another that surrounds a large hangar, gunfire rings out. Malestrom and Militech soldiers screaming at one another.

“C’mon let’s go!”

“You say come on one more time!”

Dum-Dum rushes down the platform and into the thick of it, quick to fight alongside his fellow Maelstrommers. And god, she’s not a fan of the gang, but watching soldiers with military grade armor and equipment trying to shoot down the group of mini-borgs… Maybe she just hates corps that fucking much. They could sneak out, let Maelstrom and Militech tear each other part, run with the bot and the eddies.

“That whackjobs got no chance,” Jackie says, “maybe we give ‘em a hand.”

“Lets.”

And she jumps the banister of the platform, landing clean onto a Militech soldier’s back and extends her Mantis Blades. They slice cleanthrough his neck and he goes limp underneath her, bleeding onto the production floor. V is up the next instant, running full charge into another man’s chest, knocking him off his center of gravity, landing on his chest and stabbing her blade through his heart before he can throw her off. Back on her feet and fighting in the next moment.

There is no stealth here, no technique or strategy, just kill or be killed. She moves quick, swinging a blade up to slice a soldier navel to throat. Bringing a blade clean down into another’s shoulder. Takes another’s legs out and they slice clean off, the tactical armored clothes like butter to the Mantis Blades.

A Militech boot lands square on her chest before she can slice through them, the kick knocks the air from her lungs, staggering her backwards Her head collides with a metal door, Mantis Blades retracting as she hits the ground. The Miltech worker points his gun at her. But before his finger can pull that trigger, a machete is brought down into the junction between his shoulder and neck, ripped back out in a spurt of blood. The man goes down, Jackie behind him.

“Got you, chica.” He says, pulling her up, a layer of blood has started to stick to both of them. And as she gets to her feet, she catches a glimpse through the window in the door. Bright red lights of servers, a large computer.

She looks past Jackie into the room, a large swath of Militech agents taken down. Maelstrom still battling the few left in the area. She doesn’t know what will be waiting for her when she breaks through, Meredith’s promise of seeing her soon if V pulled anything like this.

“C’mon,” V opens the door and quickly yanks Jackie into the server room.

“The hell are you doing?”

“Want to check something, bargaining chip, just in case,”

Blood coated fingers swipe open the computer screen, pulling up the messages and files Maelstrom has saved. A message named Transports- LOA catches her eye, any Nomad worth their salt knows LOA is used by corps who intentionally “lose” their cargo. She opens it, the message from Anthony Gilchrist telling one of the gang members how to get their hands on the convoy. Meredith has her mole. V jacks into the console and downloads the fill to her neural implants.

“What’s up?”

“Militech rep wanted to find her mole. She tries to get payback, I got intel,” V jacks out of the terminal, “lets go.”

They rush out of the server room and throw themselves back into the fray, slicing through Militech soldiers, as if they were never gone. V goring a soldier with both blades as Jackie blows the brains out of the last one.

Dum-Dum leads them through the rest of the plant, turns and curves and stairways, a maze of metal. The three cutting their way through Militech soldiers one body after the other, clearing the room after room. Until they open a door at the top of a stair case, showing what may have once been a massive garage portion of the plant.

“I’ll melt your fuckin’ skin off!” Royce screams and laughs from inside a Militech armored exoskeleton, using it to fire off a massive gun that bursts flames around the feet of the soldiers. They shoot and fire at Royce along with a large automated robot

“We gotta help him!” Dum-Dum yells out, rushing into the fray to help his boss, Royce cackling as the soldier try to shoot him.

“He's fuckin' happy! That's almost contagious!” Jackie laughs, him and V jumping in to help.

Dum-Dum, Jackie, and V focus on the soldiers; trying to get their fire off of Royce, so he can focus on the heavy duty robot blasting back at him. Pure reflex as bullets fly, blades slash, and body after body falls down at their feet. Chaos, adrenaline; Royce’s manic cackling making them want to laugh too. Last bit if human soldiers down, Its all on taking down the hulking robot that, it’s armored outside burned and damaged, but not destroyed by the heavy fire Royce blasts it with. V sheaths her blades within her arms, getting her gun from it’s holster and firing round after round into the tech. Jackie and Dum-Dum do the same; five guns, it sputters and sparks, one finally piercing the core of its circuits. The heap of metal collapsing.

“Khe. The hell're you still doin' here...?” Royce scoffs when he sees Jackie and V are still there.

“Helping, apparently,” V signs in response, she doesn’t expect much in the way of gratitude. But a little acknowledgement that her and Jackie did a lot of heavy lifting here would be nice.

“Take your fuckin’ bot and go.”

She was going to anyway, not caring about nor needing his permission to steal what they need, but the fact that he’s giving it to them is not lost on V. Maybe it’s his own odd way of showing gratitude for helping tear through Militech soldiers. Or maybe he’s just too tired to give a fuck.

“I'll walk 'em out,” Dum-Dum offers.

“You here to kick our asses out”

“Huh? No. Wanted to let you know I like your style,” he points them down a hallway, a door marked exit, “here you go.”

“Can’t fucking believe that guy,” Jackie grumbles as him and V start out the towards the exit.

“What is your problem with him? First the couch and now this?”

“Don’t like the fucker’s tone,” Jackie says opening the exit door, “guy rubbed my dick the wrong way.”

“Well, maybe you should stop letting random dudes rub your dick,” V teases him for his choice of words as they finally get a breath of fresh air, well, as fresh as Night City air gets.

“Fuck- oh shit.”

“Oh fuck.”

Outside the All Foods gateway is Meredith Stout, surrounded by Militech marked vans and a handful of guards. They block the only exit, standing between the mercs and their vehicles. Meredith’s eyes land squarely on V; lips pulling back in a sneer, eyes brimming with contempt.

“That the Militech bitch?”

“Un-fucking-fortunately.”

“You.” Meredith all but snarls, glaring V down as the mercs walk closer, standing before the corpo.

“Me.”

“Hmm, bet you didn’t expect to see me here, did you? Thought you could fuck me over, kill your tail and you could just do whatever you wanted?”

“You gave me a spiked chip, were going to leave me cleaning up Militech’s mess. You tried to fuck me over first.”

“And somewhere at the start someone fucked the corp, but in the end the corp always wins. Try as hard as you want, all you’ve done is proven I got nothing to lose by getting rid of you.”

“Oh but you do,” V’s word make Meredith’s eyebrow raise, “I mean, if you want to know who your mole is.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, Maelstrom was so busy trying to fight off your men, didn’t even notice me looking through their computer. Got the file on me, could send it to you, but if you’re just going to kill me, not much point.”

“Send the file and I’ll let you go.”

“And how do I know you won’t blow my brains out the second it goes through?”

“You don’t, but you do know I’ll kill you if you don’t send it.”

V rolls her eyes and her mask interface lights up as she sends the data to Meredith; the corpo woman’s eyes glowing a bright blue light as it transfers.

“I fucking knew it,” Meredith blurts out, “Gilchrist you sack of shit.”

“We good?”

“I got what I needed… you know, this was pretty clever of you.”

“Was it?”

“Throw me off, get me to attack the plant, get Maelstrom on your side, but get the info to keep Militech happy too. Bet you’re ten thousand eddies richer and got your bot, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Mind like that, maybe a couple years down the line, you could be standing where I am.”

And V’s stomach churns, her actions being compared to corporate skullduggery and backstabbing. V did what she had to and in the end she didn’t side with the corp. She bites the inside of her lip and she glares through her mask at the corporate cunt.

“Think I’d rather ride a sandpaper dildo, actually.”

Meredith scoffs, “let them through.”

The sea of Militech soldier parts; the two mercs allowed to walk through. Jackie all but collapses, leaning against his motorcycle, there’s still blood sticking to his hands. She’s still coated in a heavy layer herself.

“Not going to lie, wasn’t sure we’d make it out of that one. But, hey; no begging, no debt, eddies in a pocket and we got the bot. That’s the way to do biz, V.”

“We make a good team, plus I’m starting to think we’re just really lucky.”

“Ain't you a ray of sunshine. But, V, it ain't a matter of luck. You decide, chica. Remember that, part of why I love this town. The city of endless opportunity. And brotherly hate. But if you got the cojones and know how to use ‘em, you can do damn near anything.”

“Or die trying.”

“Even then you go out with a bang! And the street'll talk, the street'll remember. Win-win.”

“Rather the street talk about me while I’m alive to hear it, but maybe that’s just me; so what next?”

“Call up Dex, let him know we got his bot for him.”

V does just that, pulling up Dex’s contact and calling him, patching the call into Jackie’s too. Her friend’s optics glowing as the holophone rings. Dex answering after just a moment, puffing away on a cigar in the video panel.

“How're things lookin’, Miss V?”

“Managed to grab the bot.”

“And how’d it go? Run into any trouble? And what about the Militech angle, Bug told me you hacked some sort of cred chip?”

“Course there was trouble, but ended up not even needing the chip. Was ready to spike Maelstrom, when Militech got antsy. While they were ripping each other’s throats out, we got the bot and an extra ten thousand eddies for our trouble.”

“You got some balls, Miss V.”

“So, what now?”

“Now, we get to work on doing the job I hired you for- grabbing that biochip. Get some sleep, you and Jackster. Because tomorrow, we start prepping for the real heist. Have a car picking you up in the morning.”

With that, the fixer hangs up, Jackie and V exchanging looks.

“What you think he’s got in store for us?”

“I don’t know, we’re gonna have to play corpo to get into that hotel, should be interesting.”

“Either way, I’m off for the night,” Jackie says, climbing onto his arch, “hasta luego, V.”

She waves him off, watching him drive off down the streets of Night City. Her body and mind feel tired, limbs heavy and still caked with blood. But, she’s not sure how well she’ll sleep tonight. Nerves and excitement, there’s no telling what tomorrow will hold.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #silverv #johnny silverhand #female v #jackie welles #misty olszewski #viktor vector #meredith stout #aidan becker #aidan v becker

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simplyclockwork · 5 years ago

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Author Interview Tag

I was tagged by @totallysilvergirl and @therealsaintscully

Thanks for the tag!

Name: simplyclockwork

Fandoms: BBC Sherlock for now. Not super likely to change, but I’ve gotten really into this show called The Expanse lately, so you never know.

Where you post: Ao3

Most popular multi-chapter fic: At 444 kudos, it’s definitely my first ever Holmestice Fic, Hands Full of Matter. Compared to some of the big-name fic writers in the fandom, that’s not a lot, but I’m happy it’s doing well.

If I go by subscriptions, it’s Hired Gun, which is a WIP and currently at over 120 subscriptions. I suspect the Oh Captain, My Captain smut series might be up there as well, but Ao3 doesn’t show stats for series, so I can’t confirm.

Favourite story you’ve written so far: Ooh, this is a hard one. I think it might be Lean into a Loved Body, though Hired Gun is quickly becoming a new favourite.

Fic you were nervous to post:��Hmmm. Not sure if I have been, but if any one fic comes to mind, it’s my serial killer John AU, Immediate and Inglorious, which has done way better than I ever expected. It’s one of the darkest things I’ve posted - though not the darkest thing I’ve written for sure - so I’m glad it was received mostly well.

How you choose your titles: First off, I am terrible at titles. So, so, so uncreative when it comes to naming things. I usually stick with clever word plays, sayings or puns, or I choose lines from poems with similar themes to what I’m writing. Sometimes I just give up and name a fic something stupid.

Do you outline: Uh, rarely. I try to and usually manage a rough sort of vague idea of where a story might be going, but I am definitely a ‘pantser’ in that I am almost always flying by the seat of my pants and making it up as I go along. Usually, I start a story when an idea occurs, then as I write it, the pieces fall into place, and THEN I usually manage an outline. But there have been many fics, like Lunar Phase, where I literally made it up chapter by chapter. It’s a bit stressful when I decide to do this with a posted WIP, but I can’t seem to change, so I guess I’ll just keep doing it.

Complete: I have 156 works on Ao3. Four are WIPS, one being Hired Gun, another is Unfinished Business, both of which I am working on at the moment, and two are fusion fics, which I haven’t finished and might end up taking down if I don’t find the inspiration for them. Yes, I am double-fisting two posted WIPs at once. Yes, I am a little insane. No, we are not going to talk about the 15-20 WIPs I have in my Google Docs.

In progress: Right now, Hired Gun and Unfinished Business, and always Oh Captain, My Captain, which is ongoing and updated sporadically. I have a smutty Christmas fic to finish for @detafo as well. I always have something on the go.

Coming soon: I haven’t picked the next fic to focus on yet, but I have abut 16 prompts sitting in my inbox that I need to fill, so that’ll likely be the next thing I tackle. In terms of multi-chaptered fics, I plan to finish Unfinished Business and focus on Hired Gun, which I’m anticipating will end up somewhere around 100k words, with a likely sequel.

Aside from those, I might try to finish my John Watson as The Man fic, which I wrote a sizeable chunk of and didn’t complete. Or maybe I’ll finally write that Firefighter!John AU for @urbanhymnal. I need to clone myself, my WIPs are getting out of hand.

Do you accept prompts: I sure do! As mentioned above, I have a huge backlog at the moment, so feel free to send more if you’re alright with waiting for... a while.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: Still Hired Gun. This fic has just stuck its hooks in me, and I don’t want to escape even a little bit. Otherwise, I have this idea for a demonverse AU where John is a demon and Sherlock is cursed... Actually, that might be my next project.

Upcoming story you are most excited about: Probably the Sherlock-focused prequel to Lean into a Loved Body that I worked on for one of my NaNoWriMo projects. I wrote 20k for NaNo, and the story is nowhere near done. Once I’ve edited what I have and have finished my posted WIPs, I plan to pick it back up and post it on Ao3. It explains how Sherlock came to live in the country before he met John, and what events made him the man he is in Lean into a Loved Body. I’m looking forward to sharing it with those who have enjoyed Lean as much as I have.

Thanks for the tag, this was fun! As always, I’m tagging @annecumberbatch @heyblinken and I’m also going to tag @keirgreeneyes and anyone else who sees this and wants to join in! There are so many amazing writers I’d love to see answer this, and far too many to tag, so do so if you like!

#tag #tags #writing #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #sherlock #simplyclockwork

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silentauroriamthereal · 5 years ago

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Author interview tag

I was tagged by @therealsaintscully! Thanks, you! :)

Name: SilentAuror

Fandoms: Just Sherlock, though I also follow some Old Guard blogs. :)

Where you post: AO3. Though I was almost knocked over the other day when I got a comment on an old HP fic over on skyehawke.com! It’s been literal YEARS since I got a review on anything over there! :P

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Against the Rest of the World for sure. :)

Favourite story you’ve written so far: With 87 posted fics and 2 more currently on the go, I can’t possibly answer that. That’s cruel. Lol.

Fic you were nervous to post: This, on the other hand, is easy, haha! Three stories, all for very different reasons:

1. The A.G.R.A Complex. This was my first Freebatch fic and I thought I might well be burnt at the stake for even writing any RPF. The notion for this story caught my muses’ attention, though, and they eventually forced me to write it against my will. I can’t be held responsible. Lol. It still amazes me that people continue to read it to this day. The notion: Martin and Benedict are friends. There’s a car accident and Martin suffers a fairly mild brain injury. While in his coma, dreams the entire first three seasons of Sherlock, which in this universe, haven’t happened. The nature of the brain injury is such that he keeps shifting mentally between the reality of who he and Benedict (and Amanda) are, and seeing himself and everyone else as their characters in the Sherlock universe. When I posted it, I intended it to be left up to the reader whether to see it as kind of an AU to actual reality, or else a prequel to the filming of Sherlock. When I finally decided to write a sequel, it meant that I had to be the one to make that clear, which made it a prequel. It became a three-part series, with the second part set during and just after the filming of series 3 (the dodgiest in the moral sense, since it dances around and into real life events), and then the third story takes place ten years later.

2. The Final Proof. Why? Easy. Major character death, and it’s Sherlock. That’s clear from about the first sentence, I think. I had written At the Heart of it All, which features Sherlock running an experiment using the hearts of people who lived lives where they had loved and been loved, and people who hadn’t in an effort to prove his own ability to love to John. He says something at the end of that story about wishing he could see his own heart at the end of their life to see which of the hearts his own resembled by then. And then my muses, my terrible, terrible muses said, “hey... you could write that: you know: Sherlock at the very end of his life, making John promise to look at his heart after he’s died, and complete his experiment.” I, like, teared up just at the thought, and honestly, I cried for most of the writing of that story. I’m assured that about 99% of the people who have read it have also cried throughout, so... sorry. Yeah.

3. Scars. Why? Easy, again: the entire story is riddled with gaslighting and other types of emotional abuse and mind-fuckery, and an actual rape scene. It was painful to the point of being interally corrosive to write, but I still felt it was a story I needed to tell. I did my homework on this one, consulted multiple therapists who work specifically in the field of men who have been absued (emotionally, physically, sexually) by female partners. I thought no one would read it. I thought I might lose half my followers on tumblr. But I still wrote it. It still amazes me that people read it, even more when they actually like it, and still like me after. Lol.

How you choose your titles: Hmm... each title genesis is different, I would say! Sometimes it’s a general theme of the story, sometimes it’s a specific concept or single word, occasionally (but not often) it’s a song title. Sometimes it’s another language, particularly Latin. In The A.G.R.A Complex, the title of the story is also the name that the neurologists given to the brain injury Martin experiences. Vena Cava is titled for the name of the vein that Mary’s bullet punctured in Sherlock’s heart, based on a medical analysis I had read. Scars takes its theme from both Sherlock’s external scars from what he went through during his time away, and John’s internal scars from Mary’s emotional abuse. I also have a whole series of (unrelated) flower-themed stories: The Green Carnations comes from ACD era coding for homosexuality. The Yellow Poppies is the story I wrote after the deleted scene about Magnussen’s hospital visit came out, which features both he and Mary as dual villains, and yellow poppies placed in Sherlock’s room as a threat from one or the other of them. The White Lotuses has a leitmotif of Hinduism and slow-blooming self-awareness and romance. The Red Roses is a Molly POV where she helps Sherlock and John get together in spite of her own feelings, and The Wisteria Tree is an amnesia story that has Sherlock forget the past six years of his life, including the five years that he’s been married to John, and how they find their way back together in spite of that. Rosa Felicia - bonus, both a flower name AND Latin, lol! - is a coming-of-age story about Rosie at the age of 19. Where My Demons Hide is a mid-series 4 story that I wrote after The Lying Detective aired, but before The Final Problem did, and is the title of an Imagine Dragons song. Pater Noster is Latin for the title of the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, but also quite literally just means “our father”, and is a story that centres around the events surrounding the death (murder) of John and Harry’s father. You get the gist.

Do you outline: I always say that one should know how a story begins, how it ends, and at least a few of the major points between those two events. So yes, but loosely. I think that over-plotting kills creativity. It’s not an essay. But even essays need space to grow.

Complete: 105 stories back in my skyehawke days, the vast majority of which are HP, totalling in about 1.5 million words. 87 stories in the Sherlock fandom (though those include my 4 Freebatch fics), totalling in over 2.3 million words now.

In progress: I have two stories currently pending: a Christmas story called The Secret of Hazel Grange, and a trauma-based, co-sleeping fic called Nocturne.

Coming soon/not yet started: I never comment about fics I haven’t yet started. Might curse the entire process, lol.

Do you accept prompts: No, alas. Neither prompts nor commissions. While I’m constantly desperately poor, it takes something out of the writing process for me once it becomes a job. I just feel like that’s not what fanfic is about for me. No judgement to anyone else who does write for commissions, whatsoever - we all have our own process! For me, I’m happy (make that incredibly grateful!) to have donations or supporters through my Patreon (eep: x), but writing to order just doesn’t quite jive for me. I also don’t take prompts, not because I don’t want them, but because I have such a huge backlog of my own ideas that I’ll never get to as it is. There will never be enough time to write all the fics I want to write! That said, don’t think that you can’t still suggest your ideas. My “official policy” (lol) is that I don’t take prompts (for the aforementioned backlog reason), but that doesn’t mean that if you do send me one, my muses won’t seize upon it and force me to write it. You never know. I certainly don’t, at least. :P

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: I’m super excited by the notion of actually getting my Christmas fic finished by Christmas. Lol. Here’s hoping!!

Tagging: Anyone who reads this and is a writer, or thinking about becoming one. You’ve been tagged!

#writer stuff #memes and things #sherlock #johnlock #silentauror

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sharkmartini · 5 years ago

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FIC WRITER INTERVIEW

💖💖💖 Thank @captain-aralias for thinking of me 💖💖💖

name: My real name isn’t Winnie, but I try to keep my real life and fandom stuff separate, although that is surprisingly difficult once you start making connections with others.

fandoms: I pretty much exclusively write for Carry On right now, but in the past I’ve dabbled in fic for Jake & Amir (I don’t think this counts as a fandom) and the Song of Achilles.

I read fic depending on my mood, mostly Carry On but I also occasionally check out Harry Potter, BBC Sherlock, Star Wars fics.

where you post: AO3. I link to it through tumblr, but I don’t post here. I used to use livejournal back in the day for older fandoms, but I never really got comfortable using it.

most popular one-shot: By hits and kudos, Monster by a loooooongshot. Stay up with me has more bookmarks though, which is the metric I prefer to look at when trying to decide if something was well-liked.

most popular multi-chapter: I almost exclusively write one-shots, because I don’t have the patience to work through multichapter fics (there’s a reason my longer fics cap out between 16-20k words.) Of the few multichapter I’ve attempted, in which one (Supersize) isn’t really a multichapter, the most popular by far is No Time, by every metric.

fic you were nervous to post: Most of my nervousness in posting comes from my own expectations, really. These days I am not nervous to post, but a couple of years ago I wasn’t feeling great about rolling up with explicit fics in what was at the time a fandom without that many. This has obviously changed over the years.

how do you choose your titles: If the fic revolves around the use of a spell, the fic is usually named after it. I try to avoid using song lyrics (personal preference) but I occasionally give in. I like expressions and idioms, and overall prefer shorter titles, when possible.

do you outline: Extensively. All my fics begin with an outline. I don’t start seriously working on a fic until the outline is complete and everything is in place, otherwise it takes me too long and I give up.

Sometimes my outlines are so long and detailed that all I do is fill in dialogue and the fic is basically done.

complete: 26/27. I probably will not ever again try posting WIP because that’s not how I perform my best. Also as a reader I hate waiting for new chapters and try to avoid WIPs, except under certain circumstances. I’m still hurt over Your Bloodied Mouth never being completed, and so no WIPs for me.

do you take prompts: I don’t not take prompts. My backlog is pretty severe though, so I don’t seek them out, having a bunch of my own ideas to work through first. I’m always flattered when someone leaves a prompt in my inbox though, it’s sweet to be thought of.

in progress: (all progress is slow)

Medieval arranged marriage AU (Celebrated 4th birthday recently)

Simon as android AU

Baz + Agatha Forever

Sex Pollen for @captain-aralias

coming soon: (soon being a relative term)

The next fic you see from me is likely to be the sex pollen. Followed by Baz + Agatha Forever. The android fic is a long term project that will probably have a couple of birthdays before it’s complete. Who knows about the arranged marriage fic- I’ve added quite a bit to it this year but it’s still only half done.

TAGS: Quick tags, I’m late for work! @krisrix @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @pipsqueakparker @thehoneyedhufflepuff @annabellelux

#fic writer interview

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hrfiction · 5 years ago

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Author Interview Tag

Tagged by @ariaadagio. Thanks! <3

Name: HaleyRoss

Fandoms: Lucifer

Where you post: Ao3 exclusively

Most popular multi-chapter fic: How are we measuring popularity? By reader engagement, kudos? Hits ? That’s a very subjective question. That being said, What are Partners For? Is consistently in my top two fics with organized by hits and kudos, and it also has the most comments. So, I would say it would be the most popular at the moment.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: My favorite story I’ve written so far has to be my longfic, the View from the Observatory series. It is the first fic I have ever written for public consumption and I learned SO MUCH from it. Does it have its problems? Absolutely, but it was so fun to write and I think most people had fun reading it. It is EXCEPTIONALLY long and even if you don’t like it, anyone who finishes it deserves a gold medal and a star on the hollywood walk of fame. I learned my lesson about long fics, but it has a special place in my heart.

Fic you were nervous to post: Every single last one of them. Honestly, I will never get over the posting anxiety. Having another pair of eyes to look over my writing and give feedback helps, but most times I just post it without a beta. That is why I post most of my fics at night, so that I go directly to bed afterwards and aren’t tempted to hit refresh or constantly check ao3, biting my nails and hoping people like it.

How you choose your titles: It depends. Usually by the time I am posting I have a finished or mostly finished story and my title reflects the general theme of the story. My Like a Prayer uses a line out of the fic, but I had the title before I had the line so it works.

Do you outline: Always. It’s not so much an outline as a synopsis. I know where the story is going, I know the visuals I am going for (i.e how graphic I want something to be because I do write a lot of smut), elements of foreshadowing, separations of scenes ... everything. The longer the story, the longer the synopsis. Everything is color coded, so I know where characters sit in a story and a general timeline. It is detailed because I have a backlog of stories right now all the way to the end of next year (because I can’t stop coming up with ideas) so I need to make sure when I revisit my notes as I begin to write these fics that I know EXACTLY what I had planned and am able to tweak that as necessary. Will the notes change as I write? Absolutely, but it helps not feel as though I’m writing in the dark.

Complete: 9 in total. 4 are from my longfic, 3 are one-off’s, and 2 are short multi-chapter fic.

In progress: I am currently working on a wingfic titled “The Things God Gave Us.” The first chapter is already in my drafts on ao3 and I am just waiting until chapter 3 is proofread and ready to go before I start posting. I am also working on a short Christmas themed smut fic called ‘Tis the Season, which should be posted within a week or so.

Coming soon/not yet started: Uhhhhhhhhhhhh. Do you want the real number or one that doesn’t make me look crazy? I have 20 fics, not including the two mentioned above, that are in various states of writing. Some are almost done while others only have summaries. I’ll be doing quite a few one-offs for the upcoming Fuckruary challenge, then I will be working on my Office AU fic which will most likely take up most of my year next year. I also have a short and fluffy camping fic and a whumpy/angsty fic starring Michael and Lucifer that I am really excited about.

Do you accept prompts: Not actively, no. If someone says something that sparks an idea I will definitely credit them. A lot of my WIP’s come from prompts made by just talking to people and having fun with silly ideas. Prompts are meant to spark an idea but its easy to mistake a prompt for a summary or synopses if you yourself aren’t someone who writes. “Lucifer drives Trixie to summer camp where he discovers a strange affinity for pottery,” is a prompt. Adding on what he does at the summer camp, who he meets, funny lines he might say, a specific thing that might be cool to see …all of that takes away the creative freedom of the person you are prompting and makes it less fun or interesting. If you want to read a specific scene, write it! I love reading stuff from new writers and seeing how their mind works.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: I’m actually really excited to start working on the Office AU. There are some really interesting ideas I plan to explore in it that are canon-adjacent. It will also be exceptionally inappropriate and smutty and I’m excited to put these two idiots into crazy scenarios.

Tagging: Unfortunately all the authors I follow on tumblr have already been tagged :C So if you write and see this, I officially am tagging you! Tell us a bit about yourself and your stories! and added bonus, i’ll recc some great Lucifer fandom authors and their fics so you can check them out if you haven’t already:

Fluffy/ Funny

Wing (From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia) by startingatmidnight

The Royal Treatment by elleflies

Premature Unfurling by legendarytobes

Smutty

come,babe, let love have this evening by incalyscent

lay me down by unusuallysunny

#tag #lucifer on netflix #ff #ao3 #fanfiction #tag game #lucifer #tumblr game #fanfic #interview #reccs

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queenofquiet17 · 5 years ago

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Interview with a Writer

Tagged by my Bookworm @disgruntledkittenface!

name: Sarah (queenofquiet17 on AO3)

fandoms: Will & Grace

where you post: AO3

most popular one-shot: Come On, Light Me Up Anyway (which is super relevant now, since it’s officially the holiday season!)

most popular multi-chap: If we’re going by hits, it’s That’s How I Knew This Story Would Break My Heart. But if we’re going by kudos, it’s Won’t You Be My Girl?

favorite story you’ve written so far: This changes a lot, but probably Tell Me All About It. A lot went into that to make sure everything I wanted to do fit within canon, and I’m really proud of how it came out.

fic you were nervous to post: Actually, the latest one, Do My Best to Keep You Satisfied. I was convinced that this was finally the time I went completely off the rails, and I was convinced that basically @disgruntledkittenface and I were the only audience for it.

how do you choose your titles: It’s always either a song title or lyrics from the song I use for each one.

do you outline: If it’s a multi-chap, absolutely. There’s no way I’d be able to get anything done without one. When it comes to one-shots, I usually do. But sometimes the idea sparks something and I’m writing way too fast to try to outline (this happened with Do My Best to Keep You Satisfied, and Honey was basically a bunch of things I wrote down while I was sleep deprived from a crazy work commute)

complete: 14 fics on AO3, but if you count the stuff I used to post on other platforms, it’s somewhere around 32.

in progress: Still working on my pre-original run multi-chap, Everything Else Is Illusion. I think I might start posting chapters soon, since I’m currently working on chapter 13 out of 24 and I think I have enough of a backlog to post regularly without a huge amount of time going by without posting.

coming soon/not yet started: I have a one-shot that is currently with @disgruntledkittenface that might be ready to post soon, essentially about Karen looking back on her life and how it led her to Grace. There’s also something in there that I kind of want to make a timestamp out of, so we’ll see.

prompts?: I don’t get them a lot, but I absolutely welcome them! Won’t You Be My Girl? was actually kind of a prompt, and it was really fun to do.

upcoming work you’re most excited about: Everything Else Is Illusion. I’ve been working on it for a long time, I’m using songs from one of my favorite musicians for it, and I’ve become really attached to that universe. It’s going to be a weird day when I’m finally finished with it.

Tagging @crinkle-eyed-boo @a-brighter-yellow @uhohmorshedios

#fic #my fic #grace x karen #interview with a writer

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quickspinner · 5 years ago

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Finding Harmony - Ch 1 The Key of M

This story is complete on AO3

Season 3 was still coming out when I wrote this one, but it’s still probably my favorite of my works so far, so I hope you enjoy it. This is part of my ongoing effort to get my AO3 works posted to tumblr; you can filter the tag ‘backlog’ if you’d rather not see them.

Summary: Before any note can harmonize with another, it has to be on pitch. When Luka agrees to work with Marinette on a design project, he's happy to see that she's started making some changes for her own happiness. “It’s like you’re tuning your strings right now. You started out a little flat, and then you tuned too sharp. So now you're working back towards your true pitch." As she gets closer to striking her true note, he can't help but think how beautiful they sound together. He wishes she could hear it too.

“Marinette wants your body.”

Luka nearly swallowed the guitar pick he had clamped between his lips. He made a muffled sound and dropped the sheet music he’d been trying to arrange so he could whip the pick out of his mouth to demand, “What did you say?” He moved his guitar off his lap and turned to hang his legs off the edge of the bed so he could face his sister as she crossed from the door towards her end of the cabin.

“Finally,” Juleka smirked. “I’ve called your name three times. Marinette’s been trying to call you for like an hour.”

“What?” Luka frowned and shuffled around on his bed, finally finding his phone half-buried under his pillow. Sure enough, he had a bunch of missed notifications. “Oops,” he muttered.

“I just got back from her place,” Juleka told him, sitting sideways in her vanity chair to face him. “She’s got an idea that she’s all fired up on and she’s wondering if you’d be willing to model with me for it.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, Jul,” he said almost automatically.

Juleka smirked. “I know you’d do anything for Marinette.”

Luka smiled ruefully. “Yeah, that too.”

“Sap.”

“Like you can talk. I’m gonna go call her back now.” He stood up and walked out to the deck.

Marinette picked up on the first ring with a delighted “Luka!” that made his heart skip a bit.

“Hey, Marinette, sorry I missed your messages, I was kinda in the zone and I wasn’t paying attention to my phone. Juleka just told me you were trying to reach me.”

“No problem, I understand, I’ve been there! I’m sorry I interrupted, though, I guess this could have waited, it’s just I was excited and you know I’m a planner and—”

“Breathe, Marinette, it’s fine.” He smiled, leaning on the rail of the boat. “What do you need?”

“Well, you know I felt really bad about that whole Reflekdoll thing a while back—”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but—“ Marinette sighed. “Well, never mind about that. I still feel bad for Juleka and now that I know she wants to model I started thinking about what would look good on her, because you know the suit before was cute all but it didn’t really scream Juleka, and so I started messing around with some designs, more of my edgy stuff, you know, the kind of thing I do for Jagged Stone and Kitty Section, and the more I thought about it the more excited I got and I think I have some really cool concepts—”

“Breathe, Marinette,” he repeated, grinning.

“Right. Sorry. Anyway um I guess designing for Juleka kind of got me thinking about you, and I have some things in mind that I think would look really good on you and I was wondering if you would mind taking some pictures with Juleka when the pieces are done? What do you think?”

“I think all you had to say was ‘Hey Luka, will you model my designs with Juleka,’ and I’d have been sold,” Luka chuckled. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good but you know I’d do anything to help my two favorite girls. Just tell me when and where and what you need me to do.”

The delighted squeal that answered him left him grinning for an hour.

***

“Mom Luka’s here we’ll be in my room see you later!”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cheng,” Luka said with a chuckle, as he followed Marinette through the bakery at a slightly more civilized pace.

“Good to see you, Luka. There’s a plate of snacks in the fridge if you two get hungry.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

It was a good thing he’d been to Marinette’s place with the rest of the band, because she was so far ahead of him he might as well have been by himself. When he climbed up through the hatch into her bedroom (her room was really pretty cool for not being a boat), Marinette nearly barreled right into him. “Whoa!” he cried, catching her around the waist just in time to keep her from falling over. “Relax, Marinette, I’m not going to turn into a pumpkin. You can slow down a little.” He waited until she was sure she had her balance back, and then let her go.

“Sorry,” Marinette said, bouncing slightly on her toes and then grabbing his hand to drag him to her chaise. “I’m just so excited to show you. I hope you’ll like it.”

Luka took a seat on her chaise as she directed and smiled as he watched her rush around. “It’s great to see you so inspired. Maybe I’m off base, but it just feels like you’ve been missing a little bit of your spark lately.”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed, and it was like all the frenetic energy drained out of her at once. She came and sat next to him on the chaise, looking almost...mournful. “A lot of things have been happening, and I’m starting to realize that I’ve been...prioritizing the wrong things. Sometimes the wrong people.” She glanced at him and then away, twisting her fingers. “I didn’t like the person I was becoming. Which is complicated, because I didn’t like the person I was before, either. Before I met Alya and A-Adrien and got to be better friends with Nino and Kitty Section.” She flashed him a crooked smile. “You wouldn’t have liked me then either. I was a pushover and a victim and a...a bystander.” Luka moved closer and put his hand on her shoulder in silent encouragement. “Some things happened at the beginning of the school year that really pushed me out of that comfort zone, and I started really trying to be a friend, someone my friends can rely on, and for a while it was great. I still messed up a lot but I started standing up for myself and other people, and I wasn’t such a spectator. But...” Marinette chewed her lip. “I don’t know, I feel like somewhere in the last few months I got confused.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly. “I need to find a way back to the person I wanted to be. Except I don’t even know who that is, because if I don’t like who I was before and I don’t like who I became, then where am I trying to go?” She moaned faintly and put her face in her hands. “And all you did was compliment me and now I’m just spewing this out all over you and you didn’t ask for any of this, I’m so sorry. I’m probably not even making sense.”

“Marinette, you’re making perfect sense,” Luka said, squeezing her shoulder, and reaching down for the guitar case. “It sounds like you’ve been bottling that up for a while.” She nodded, face still in her hands. “It’s like...you’re tuning your strings right now,” he continued. He set his guitar on his lap, set his fingers and plucked a string. “That’s G, right? You started out a little flat.” He moved his fingers and played a G flat. “So you started tuning towards your true pitch.” He played G again. “But you overshot and you went sharp.” He played the G sharp. “So now you’re working back towards G again.” He plucked the G one more time and grinned. “Or maybe it’s M in your case.”

”There isn’t any M, Luka,” Marinette giggled.

“I think there is,” Luka smiled, fingers fluttering in a familiar pattern as he played up and down a G major scale. “I think you’ll find it.” He looked up and met her eyes. “And when you do, it’ll be beautiful.”

Marinette held his gaze for a moment, then blushed and looked at her hands. “Thanks Luka. I know—well, you’re one of the people I haven’t treated so well, so...thanks for understanding.”

“I could tell it wasn’t the true note, the real you. We all make mistakes, Marinette. You’ve always been honest and sincere with me, and I value that more than anything.”

Marinette smiled weakly. “I feel like that should be part of the Couffaine family motto. Liberté, sincerité, originalité.”

Luka laughed out loud. “I like it.”

Marinette, smiled, and the light came back into her eyes as she jumped up. “Enough navel gazing. How do you feel about snakes?”

Luka’s eyes widened slightly and he felt a flicker of panic. “Uh—”

“Because I have the greatest plan for you,” Marinette said, rushing over to her desk. “Check this out.” She pulled up a board that had been laying flat on her desk and held it vertical so he could see it. Front and center was a large picture of a blue and black striped snake with a red head and tail. It was bold and striking and it looked nothing like Viperion. Luka relaxed a little. He should have known better.

“Snakes are cool,” he grinned. “I like the colors.”

Marinette squealed and bounced a little. “I know, they’re perfect for you! I mean blue was the easy choice but I was afraid that would be predictable and boring but then I found this picture and—Can you help me hold this? Thanks. So the snake—it’s called a Malasian coral snake by the way—is the inspiration for collection, see? I’m working out an embroidery design, and I’m also incorporating the colors, although not as much on Juleka’s, I want to use mostly black for her with maybe a bright pop of color, maybe the red, see? And if she’s posing with you, maybe she won’t be so nervous. It’ll be a good way to help her get a little more experience so she’ll be more comfortable next time, and if the photos turn out well she’ll have a start to her portfolio.”

“Sounds great. You’re so thoughtful, Marinette. I know Juleka will appreciate it,” he told her admiringly.

“I really haven’t been lately,” Marinette sighed, as he helped her lay the board back down flat. “But I’m trying to be better.”

Luka touched her shoulder. “If you really want to change yourself, I know you can, Marinette. If it’s worth anything, I think you’re pretty great the way you are.”

He jolted when Marinette turned to him and threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tight, but he put one arm around her and hugged her back. “Thanks Luka,” she whispered. “You’re the best.”

He patted her back gently, resisting the urge to really hold her. “So, what do I need to do?”

“Measurements!” Marinette snapped back on task. “I need to take some measurements. Especially for the shirts and jacket, I’ve got to make sure there’s room for all—” she gestured vaguely at his shoulders. “That.”

He raised an eyebrow. “All what?”

She rolled her eyes at him and turned to her desk to dig out a measuring tape. “Take off your jacket, Luka.”

He did as she asked, laying the guitar back in the open case and dropping his denim jacket and hoodie on the end of the chaise. Marinette pursed her lips as she turned back to him, then took his wrist and held up his arm so that his bicep was flexed. “Yep. That’s what I meant.” Luka felt a sudden flush as she ran her hand up his arm and onto his shoulders. “You’ve got a lot more muscle than the guys in my class—except Kim but he’s a special case—and your shoulders are broader.”

“Um...thanks?” Luka cleared his throat.

Marinette jumped back. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just thinking out loud.”

“It’s fine,” he said, though he knew he was blushing, and he couldn’t quite keep from smirking just a little bit. “Go ahead.”

Luka stood patiently while she measured what felt like every inch of him.

“Sorry,” she said, writing numbers down. “I just don’t want to have to make you come back, so I’m trying to get everything I think I possibly could need. Once I’ve gotten a little further in the designs, I can bring fabric samples over to the Liberty for you guys to look at.”

“I appreciate that, Marinette, but these are your designs, you don’t need our approval.”

“I know, but I want you guys to be comfortable with the clothes, especially Juleka now that I know she’s so nervous. And the best part of designing is seeing how excited people are to wear the finished product. I really want you guys to be thrilled.”

Luka smiled at her enthusiasm. “I have confidence in you, Marinette.”

She flashed him a soft smile that made his heart flutter. “You always have, Luka. I appreciate it.” She straightened up and put her pencil down. “I think that’s everything I need.” Marinette bit her lip, and looked a bit...shy? That was new. “Um...do you have to go right away? We could hang out for a bit if you’re free...do you play video games?”

“Not really,” he admitted, with a shrug, and then added quickly as her face fell, “I’m always up for trying something new though.”

The way she lit up at that was not good for his heart. “Well, I’ll go easy on you since you’re a beginner.”

Luka chuckled. “Teach me your ways, master.”

Even ‘going easy,’ she destroyed him. His quick fingers and excellent hand-eye coordination were his only chance for redemption. At the same time, he’d never enjoyed losing more. Competitive Marinette was a side she’d never shown him before and Luka was hard pressed to pay attention to the game, distracted as he was by her wide smile and sparkling eyes. After she’d pounded him a few times, she had mercy on him and switched modes so that they battled together against online opponents. He was still pretty useless but she didn’t seem to need him to win anyway, and playing cooperatively gave her more opportunity to coach him. By the time he had to leave, he could at least survive through the fight while Marinette took their opponents apart. That was good enough for him; the game was okay but he mostly just enjoyed watching her have fun. This was clearly one of her passions and he loved watching her be so gung-ho over it.

“You’re amazing,” he sighed finally, putting down the controller. “I think I’d have to practice a long time to get good enough to even come close to beating you.”

“Oh, I didn’t—you did really well for your first time!” She hastened to reassure him. He laughed at her round eyes and panicked expression.

“Relax, Marinette, I don’t mind. Even losing to you is fun. You’re cute when you win.” He winked at her and she blushed, but recovered quickly.

“You’re right, I am amazing,” Marinette said airily, and then giggled. “At least at video games. My classmate Max and I played in the interschool tournament and we tore the competition apart.” She looked down at the controller and sighed, putting it down on the coffee table. “I actually haven’t taken much time to play lately, I’ve been so busy. Another reason to make some changes.”

Luka put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “I don’t know what happened and I wish you weren’t so sad about whatever it was, but it sounds like you’ve got a good handle on what you need to do, so I know you’ll be fine. Thanks for teaching me, Marinette. I had fun.”

“Me too,” she smiled at him. “Thanks, Luka, your support means a lot to me. And,” she blushed a little, “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

“I love spending time with you,” Luka said, letting go of her shoulder and getting to his feet. “I do need to get home now though. I’ll go grab my stuff.” He went up the stairs to her room, giving her time to recover from her spluttering. Luka sensed that she felt lonely and unappreciated lately, and he didn’t want to pass up a chance to let her know how much he appreciated her, or how happy he was to spend time with her.

Luka put his jackets back on, zipped up the open guitar case, and lifted the strap over his head. He stopped by the desk, looking down at the snake image, and smiled to himself before going back down the stairs.

Marinette walked him out through the bakery, where her mother pressed a small box of sweets into his hands. “Be safe getting home, Luka,” Marinette told him at the door.

“See you soon, Marinette.” He smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder once more before walking away.

As he walked he thought about what Marinette had said to him. Luka was glad she was taking some time and space to take care of herself, but he couldn’t help wondering what brought on the change. Marinette seemed so down about it...He hoped she felt better about it soon, because the changes she was making seemed good for her. So far, he certainly liked what he was seeing. It was great to see her investing in her art. Just spending time with Marinette was enough for him, but getting to be involved in something she loved so much made it that much better.

Luka sighed, adjusting the guitar case and smiling at himself. He’d long ago accepted that he was hopelessly deep in a hopeless love when it came to Marinette. He knew Juleka thought he was an idiot, but he really just didn’t mind it.

Loving her made him happy.

#quickspins #finding harmony #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #backlog

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