#Shira was so proud of herself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-lockman5 · 4 years

Text

Dirty Little Secret {Devi x Paxton}

A/N: Hooray! So after about 8.5K, I cut this one off. I like the way it ended, and it was fun to imagine a future Daxton. Thank you so much to the person that requested it! I am throwing around the idea of working on a part 2, so if I get at least 5 “upvotes” for a part 2, I will take it on.

Summary: Devi wasn’t interested in dating anymore. She wasn’t hurt or messed up from a previous relationship. She just wanted to meet a guy that made time stand still. It just didn’t happen. That is, until a man from her past walked into her office.

Warnings: Fluff, drinking/alcohol abuse, time-jump (Devi and co. are in their late 20s), forbidden love, taboo, mild burns, sexual themes - nothing explicit

Don’t forget, request/ask is open!

And check out my MASTERLIST

“Debbie, you have a new patient today,” the office manager, Barb called out, thrusting a folder into the air.

“It’s Devi,” she swiped the folder from her, “you know, like that grandson you’re always going on about.”

“Oh, sorry, dear. I keep forgetting.”

“It’s alright, Barb, thanks for grabbing this,” she turned away toward her own desk. I’ve only been working here for two and half years. Why should you have caught on by now?

Devi Vishwakumar didn’t know what she wanted for the future when she graduated nearly nine years ago. She had spent her high school career with two things on her mind: having a love life and getting to Princeton. She’d managed both. After dating Ben Gross for the entirety of their junior year, Devi and he ended things amicably largely because being friendly rivals was much more fun and somehow resulted in less legitimate fighting. Senior year, she enjoyed the company of another classmate named Tyler Herron. He was academically minded, but still a jock in his own right. He played for the soccer and basketball teams, and Devi found she received common invites to parties that previously she thought only came from her friendship with Paxton Hall-Yoshida. Eleanor and Fabiola continued to prove they were the best friends anyone could ask for, but she also learned to love Shira and Zoey. Though they often seemed more superficial than Devi thought to care for, their aspirations were just as real as Devi’s and they had minds made for business and marketing. When time came for graduation, Devi felt more seen and cared for than she ever thought she could, and that’s what she said in her valedictorian speech. She also couldn’t help throwing a jab at Ben for beating him out, but to be fair, he insinuated letting her win in his own speech.

When she arrived at Princeton the following fall, Tyler forged his own path to MIT. Devi had no intention of bringing a boyfriend into college with her and was not at all hurt when Tyler felt the same way. She did wish she’d beat him to the punch, but at least they too split mutually and were able to be friendly on social media. Being single gave Devi the opportunity to focus on what was most important – her future.

Her mother made it very clear to her, she was to pick a college major before arriving for her first semester. Not having a plan is lazy. Are you lazy, khanna? Even when her mother was thousands of miles away, Devi could hear her loud and clear in her head. Though, she found she was right. Devi had to be prepared to make decisions for herself otherwise all the work she’d put in to get to Princeton would be for nothing. She chose Biology and pursued it relentlessly.

By the time she was graduating with her bachelor’s in biology, she’d made plenty of friends during that time who helped her choose to further pursue Physical Therapy. It was funny, she often thought, how she spent so long working to move across the country for her favorite Ivy League school to then end up back in her backyard for graduate school. The University of Southern California had one the best PT programs in the country, and Devi was proud to have studied there. Her final fieldwork was assigned at OSMC, Orthopedics and Sports Medicine Calabasas. After a thrilling experience, and impressing her Clinical Instructor at every turn, she was asked to stay on after graduation. Naturally, Devi accepted.

OSMC was not only the most exclusive orthopedic surgery and rehabilitation practice in Southern California, but it was also where she felt most at home. Outside of having a coworker who passively refused to learn the correct pronunciation of her name, she was in her element every day. Plus, she got to meet some really cool people. Professional athletes, actors, stuntmen, they all came to OSMC for physical rehabilitation. Legally, she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else that she’d personally worked with Dylan O’Brien, Diego Boneta, and Mookie Betts. She liked to remind herself of those things regularly though. Living in the LA area also allowed Devi’s relationship to improve with her mom, who finally voiced how proud she was of Devi… when she first started working. Now, she was worried that Devi would never settle down.

Devi had begged her mother not to place her in an arranged marriage when she was still studying at Princeton. The conversation actually took place at Kamala and Prashant’s wedding ceremony. It wasn’t that she didn’t think it could work – Kamala and Prashant proved that love could flourish from being set up. Devi wanted something different though. She wanted what Nalini and Mohan had. They met when they were children, and never wanted anyone else. She wanted to meet a man and feel the electricity that could make her forget her own name (like Barb seemed to do every day). Heart softened by the reminder of how Mohan had swept her off her feet, Devi’s mother agreed. That was six years ago. More recently, Nalini reminded her daughter regularly that all of the handsome driven Indian men in her age range had already been swept up, so she was on her own. She also made it very clear that grandchildren were to be in her future.

Did her mother’s constant badgering sour Devi on dating? Maybe a little bit. Did she get guys to buy her, Eleanor, and Fabiola drinks when they out only to ditch the same guys at the first opportunity? Absolutely, but what woman hadn’t done that? It had been a long time since Devi saw a man that made time stand still, and Mehcad Brooks was treated in her therapy gym.

No, Devi was not the romance obsessed teen she once was. Honestly, it’s better this way. Now, I can focus on my career, she thought. She pulled up her schedule on her laptop and noticed she didn’t have an appointment for three hours. “Hey, Barb? What time is that eval coming in?”

“Scheduled in thirty minutes!” She called back.

“Who ya got, D?” Amir, one of the physical therapy assistants, asked. “Someone rich or someone famous?”

“Go ahead and take a look, you’ll probably be seeing them next week,” Devi replied going to grab a mug of coffee.

“Hey, another Olympian. Paxton Hall-Yoshida!”

“Devi, oh my gosh, are you okay?” Hannah’s voice sounded like it was a hundred miles away. Devi didn’t come back to reality until she felt a damp towel being pressed into her arms. “Here, there’s coffee all over your leg. I don’t want you to get burns.”

Hannah was their rehabilitation technician. She helped keep things picked up, sanitized, and would provide physical assistance if they needed another set of hands during a session. At the moment, she was saving Devi from second degree burns, and cleaning up the broken ceramics from the coffee mug she’d just dropped. Hannah was right too; Devi chose the wrong day to wear a skirt and had drenched her right leg in hot coffee.

“Hannah, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me,” Devi told her pressing the towel on her knee and calf with one hand and crouching down to help pick up the pieces of her mug with the other.

“Devi, I love you, but please don’t help. We don’t want you to cut your hand open,” she laughed. Devi was known to be a little clumsy. “I have a pair of scrubs with me if you want to wear them today.”

“You are a lifesaver, Hannah. I don’t care what Amir says about you!” she called over her shoulder, heading into the locker room to change into Hannah’s scrubs.

Okay, Devi, get your shit together. Maybe it’s not even the same guy. Except, of course it was. How many Paxton Hall-Yoshida’s were Olympic Swimmer’s for the US team? One. There was one. One Paxton Hall-Yoshida that Devi had routinely made a fool of herself in front of when she was in high school. Paxton Hall-Yoshida that gave her the best first kiss a girl could dream up. Before she started dating Ben, Paxton was all she thought about. Now, she was supposed to treat him? God, I feel like I’m fifteen again! she thought, kicking the lockers angrily. She had to get a grip. She had exactly twenty-two minutes to handle the situation.

After changing quickly into the burgundy colored scrubs, Devi found herself in her boss’s office. “Makayla, is there any way I can give my eval to one of the other therapists?”

“Why?” She tapped her acrylics on the desk impatiently. Makayla was notorious for being in all the gossip of the clientele in their practice. Devi knew she had to be careful telling her too much. If she knew Devi and Paxton went to high school together, the questions would never stop until Devi ended up with word vomit about both of their personal lives.

“Uh... I just spilled hot coffee on my leg, and I am feeling pretty tense from that still.”

“Alright, Devi, I’m going to level with you. This particular client asked for you specifically. Apparently, he knows one of your previous clients, and they were a satisfied customer. He will not be happy if he works with another therapist. Are we going to have a problem?”

Devi swallowed her argument about conflicts of interest and gave her boss a tight-lipped smile. “No problem. I’m flattered, obviously. Thanks.” She rose from her seat and began to back out of the office. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help,” she gave a small wave and didn’t notice the way her foot caught on the door frame until it was too late.

She screwed her eyes shut, waiting for impact. It’s a reflex to reach your hands out toward the ground when falling in order to protect your head, but instead it often results in one of the most common fractures. Devi knew her bottom and back could take a fall and so she resisted the urge to catch herself, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to meeting the floor.

Except she didn’t hit the floor. “Woah!” she heard man’s voice shout before she was caught by a strong arm. “Good thing you got my good side.”

When she opened her eyes, there he was. Holding her in mid-air with one arm, Paxton Hall-Yoshida smiled down at Devi like Christmas had come early. He gingerly aided her back to a standing position, and she tried to ignore how he bit his lip and smirked at her. Man, he had not changed a bit, except that somehow, he looked stronger and more handsome than the last time she’d seen him.

“Oh, thank goodness. We didn’t need Danni getting hurt again!” Barb giggled from behind the front desk. Devi opened her mouth to correct the office manager again but didn’t manage to get the words out before Paxton.

“It’s Devi,” he told Barb. “D-e-v-i; it means goddess.”

“Oh!” Barb smiled like it was the first time she’d heard Devi’s name. “Well, thank you, young man. This goddess is your physical therapist today.”

“Lucky me,” he grinned. “Lead the way, Dr. Vishwakumar.”

It was all Devi could do to stop the heat from coloring her cheeks as she led Paxton through the therapy gym to one of the exam rooms in the back. No one interrupted them or disrupted their course. That was an expectation of working in an office with so many VIP clients. Professionalism came first, and Devi kept blasting that in her head. Be professional. Be professional.

Once they reached the exam room, she stopped at the open door and gestured for him to enter ahead of her. She tried to stop herself from checking out his backside, but the high school sophomore in her won the battle. And just like when they were in high school, this boy – nay – this man had an amazing way of filling out clothing that would otherwise be loose fitting. God, he looked good.

When she looked up, she was glad his back was still to her. For the first time, possibly in her entire life, Paxton didn’t catch her in an embarrassing moment. “So, Mr. Hall-Yoshida, why don’t you take a seat and” –

She was cut off by his soft laughter. “Come here, Devi,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

She found herself returning his embrace, and it actually helped her relax a little. “It’s good to see you too, Paxton,” she told him when she pulled away a moment later. “How long has it been?”

His eyes squinted over her shoulder as he thought about her question. “Ben Gross’s Christmas party 2022, right? Eight years?”

Somehow, in that moment, it felt like yesterday. “Yeah, that’s right. The one party at Ben’s that didn’t end with me in the deep end of the pool,” she grinned.

His eyes raked over her for a moment, so intense that she chose to turn away and grab his chart to distract herself. Then he laughed again. “At least sometimes it was on purpose.”

“Yes, not all of us are as graceful in the water as the Paxton H.Y.” she smiled up from his paperwork. “Alright, we could catch up for hours, but we have to get your evaluation done. Tell me what’s going on with your shoulder.”

Paxton smirked, but nodded and did not argue with moving on into the session. He explained his sudden onset of pain during a training session. Sharp pain. He noticed more during strokes or overhead activity. It was difficult to sleep on that shoulder, but otherwise, if he wasn’t using it, he didn’t have pain. Everything Paxton told her confirmed what the orthopedist had diagnosed: shoulder impingement syndrome. Just to cover her bases, Devi confirmed positive results for Neer’s and Hawkins’ tests. He demonstrated mild weakness in the affected shoulder, and pain seemed to onset just at approximately 100 degrees of flexion.

“Okay, looks like you saw Doctor… Matthews? Did he explain this to you?”

“Not really… he said I’m pinching a muscle in my rotator cuff?”

“Kind of, more like a tendon,” Devi said grabbing a model off the counter. “So, you know how this is a ‘ball and socket’ joint so to speak. Normally, you have full range of motion and the ball rotates in the socket without any pain or stiffness,” she explained demonstrating the normal range of shoulder flexion. “Right now, you have some inflammation in the space between the ball and socket, so whenever you raise your arm above shoulder level, there isn’t enough space for the joint to rotate normally. Because of that, you pinch that tendon, it hurts and causes more inflammation, and then the next time you raise your arm, you’ll pinch the tendon, it’ll hurt and cause inflammation, and so on.”

“So… every time I raise my arm… like on every stroke, I make it worse?” he asked, his forehead furrowing.

“Not really, but you’re not making it any better. Every time you raise your arm above shoulder level, you’re basically reinjuring it. Don’t worry though, we can fix it.”

“Dr. Matthews didn’t think I would need surgery.”

“Oh, god no, and I would never do surgery. A – out of my scope of practice, B – can you imagine me with a scalpel and a living, breathing person? Bad idea.”

She smiled when he started laughing. This was Devi’s favorite part of her job. She had many A list clients walk into her office, and there was always a level of fear that they wouldn’t be able to reach 100% again. Sometimes, it was true. Devi liked being able to alleviate that fear and make people as comfortable as possible though. Paxton was no different. He’s just another client, she told herself, and continued in her explanation.

“See the reason it keeps happening is because you’re not giving the inflammation a chance to go down. Between swimming, lifting, and day to day activities, your arm goes over your head a lot. First thing we have to do is, limit that.”

“So, I can’t swim?”

“Not unless you can do it with your left arm by your side,” her head tilted in sympathy. “It’s not forever though. I want you to keep your arm below 90 degrees of flexion – below shoulder level for four weeks and I want you to complete these exercises every day, two to three times per day,” she pulled her pre-assembled shoulder impingement program out of a binder. “I want you here twice a week and we’ll follow up on your progress.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “If you seem like you need more attention, then we’ll add a session weekly. Honestly, Paxton, this is a really common injury, especially for swimmers. It’s known as ‘swimmer’s shoulder.’ You’ll be back in the pool in plenty of time to qualify for 2032.”

He smiled warmly at her, and she could see his stress deflating. “Thanks, that is really good news.” He stood from his seat and advanced toward her before catching himself, “Can I hug you again?”

She grinned. “As long as you keep your arm below 90 degrees.”

She saw a spark in his eyes as he thought of a retort, but his expression changed to his easy smirk and he nodded. “Deal. Thanks, Devi,” he said as he pulled her into him.

“So, we’re done, and I can go?” he seemed nervous.

“Yeah, I have another patient in,” she glanced at her watch, “thirty minutes? Wow, I thought this was a quick one.”

“What time do you get off?”

“My last appointment is from 4:00 to 4:45 this afternoon.”

“Let’s get dinner tonight. Are you busy?”

Was he asking her on a date? No, just as friends to reconnect. Still, she had to keep things professional. Dot the T’s, cross the I’s – “What?” Nailed it.

He exhaled in a gentle laugh, his right arm reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I, umm, I asked you to have dinner with me.”

“Like a date?”

He stared at the floor, another laugh escaping him. “Yeah, Devi, like a date.”

To be honest, she was a little angry with him for this. “Paxton, I can’t.”

“Devi, come on. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. It doesn’t even have to be a date! Just two friends, catching up.”

She opened the door, attempting to usher him out. “That would be hugely unethical, Paxton. If you wanted to ask me out, you shouldn’t have handpicked me to be your therapist. I can’t date one of my clients.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again with a nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry, Dr. Vishwakumar. I didn’t mean to offend you. Thanks for all your help today. I’ll see you next week,” he told her. It would have seemed respectful or sincere if he hadn’t smirked the whole time. He was already at the front desk, presumably scheduling his next appointment when Devi reached her desk. He turned, his eyes settling on her immediately. “Oh and, Dr. Vishwakumar, you look good in that color,” he said with a smile that made her knees weak.

“Devi, he was flirting with you!” Hannah rushed to her side once he was gone.

“Lucky me,” she grimaced, pulling her phone from her desk drawer.

*We’re getting drinks tonight.. Actually we’re going out. Get hot.*

***

“So why are we going out tonight?” Fabiola asked, pouring shots of tequila in her kitchenette.

Fabiola had a cozy apartment in Koreatown. After receiving her degree in mechanical engineering from UC Berkeley, she received an entry-level job at Aldrin Corp. Within a few years, and some well-timed retirements, Fabiola was promoted to Senior Project Engineer. It was a job that was made for her. She often said she felt she was more hands on than previous SPE’s she’d worked for, but it also gained her the respect of her subordinates and made meeting deadlines that much easier. Her salary allowed her to not only afford this apartment near downtown LA, but to keep saving. Devi thought even with Eleanor climbing the ranks in her own field, Fabiola would be the first to have a suburban home like they’d all grown up in. For now though, she’d have the apartment closest to the clubs, and would be their pre-game hub.

“Yeah, you’re lucky you picked tonight. I had an early table read this morning, but I don’t have to be on set again until Sunday,” Eleanor agreed, touching up her eyeshadow.

“You will not believe who walked into my office today,” Devi groaned, leaving the bathroom to meet Fabiola at the counter. She swiped a shot off the counter and downed it with a wince.

“What about the salt and lime?” her friend asked in outrage. “I cut fresh lime for you!”

Devi grabbed a wedge and bit the flesh out and Fabiola nodded curtly. “I’ll use the salt for the next one.”

“So, who was it?” Eleanor asked, gliding out of the bathroom to join them. “Was it Sebastian? I know he’s almost 50, but I don’t know how you didn’t go home with him at the last premier party.”

Eleanor was a successful actress. She wasn’t a leading lady yet. She was gaining a lot of clout though. Enough clout to be at premier parties with Sebastian Stan… and Amandla Stenberg… and Tom Holland. Her phone was full of A-list stars and she was not legally obligated to keep her mouth shut about any time she spent with them. She very thoughtfully brought Devi and Fabiola to her premier parties as her guests, and that meant that they met a lot of A-list stars too.

“It was not Sebastian Stan,” Devi rolled her eyes, “and I’ll remind you, he texted you the next day asking you to thank me for calling his driver to come get him, remember? He was plastered and did not need to wake up with a stranger in bed with him.”

“Yeah, he’s really shy and private about his personal life. That fruit basket he sent you was intense.”

“Hello, losing focus,” Fabiola redirected while refilling Devi’s shot glass. “Who came in today?”

Devi groaned as she remembered her obligation to patient privacy. “I can’t tell you. Stupid HIPAA. What I can tell you is, he asked me out at the end of the session.” Eleanor and Fabiola grinned at each other before turning their grins on Devi. “What?”

“You wanted to say yes!” they said in unison.

“What? No, I didn’t. I’m dreading seeing this guy again next week.”

“No, you’re not! You’ve told us tons of stories of your patients flirting with you and your coworkers. Never once has it prickled you to the point of wanting to go get hammered in a nightclub.”

“Fabiola’s right! You’re fantasizing about getting with this guy in the exam room like on Grey’s. God, will that show ever not be relevant?”

“The point is the reason this has you tweaking is because you know you can’t do it.”

“Shut up, you guys suck.” Devi said, preparing a salt strip on her wrist for another shot.

“So, give him to another therapist so he isn’t your patient.”

“I tried before he even walked in, but Makayla said he asked for me specifically. She said something about how he knew another satisfied client.”

“Why is your job so sexual?” Eleanor laughed to which Devi glared. “Sorry, I’m sure all of your clients are satisfied.”

“You’re the worst,” Devi laughed, grabbing a lime wedge and thrusting the saltshaker into Fabiola’s hand. “Now are we pre-gaming or what?”

After more than enough shots resulted in finishing off the bottle in record time, Eleanor called for a car. The girls piled in, giggling a lot more than they had been a half hour prior. Fabiola insisted on controlling the music, though no one argued. Fab had an excellent knack for reading the energy and picking the perfect soundtrack. At least normally. This time, what she thought to be a great throwback jam, took Devi back eight years to a time that would only increase her anxiety to think about. 2022, Ben Gross’s Christmas Party.

***

“Coyote girl!”

“Hey, Trent,” Devi smiled meeting him and Paxton by the punch bowl. “You didn’t dip your balls in this again, did you?”

“Come on, Devi, I’m in college now. Would I do that?”

She looked between Trent and Paxton: Trent attempting to look way too innocent, Paxton analyzing him just as much as Devi. Suddenly, he turned to Devi. “You know what? I brought a bottle of Jack. It’s in the fridge. I’ll share with you.”

Devi smiled in gratitude as Paxton led her inside. “So, you’re drinking?”

He smiled. “We get a break from meets during Christmas break, so I figure once or twice won’t hurt.”

“David!” she heard as soon as she and Paxton entered the kitchen. The moment they started dating, Devi told Ben that the ‘nickname’ bothered her. He almost never used it anymore, but he was obviously drunk. “Wait, no sorry. Devi!”

“What’s up, man?” Paxton fist bumped Ben. “I don’t trust Trent, so Devi is drinking my stuff. Cool?”

“Cool, man, and thanks for the heads up. If you don’t trust Trent, I don’t trust Trent.”

Ben and Paxton had reached a relationship of friendly acquaintances by the time Paxton graduated. It had been a necessity when Ben tutored Paxton in order to meet the requirements for his swim scholarship to Stanford. At the time, it brought Devi mixed feelings. Being a few years removed from the drama of her sophomore year, it was nice they could all just hangout without it being weird.

“So, Ben, I gotta know. Why are you having a Christmas party?” Devi asked. “You don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“True, but you can’t throw a party over winter break without accepting that people are going to call it a Christmas party, and expecting half the guests to wear ugly sweaters whether it’s required or not,” Ben explained, only slightly tripping over his words. “I just steer into the skid.”

Devi and Paxton grinned at him before laughing. “Hey, whatever. It’s a dope party, and you guys are just too sober to appreciate it,” he accused good-naturedly, pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the refrigerator. “Get moving and come find me when you’re on this level. Unless I’m with Emma, then come back later.”

“Emma?”

“His girlfriend. She’s wicked smart, and she even convinced his parents to be at parents’ weekend. They’ll probably get married,” Devi told him as Ben went back outside.

“I’m sorry, do you go to school in New Jersey or Boston?” he teased.

“What?”

“You’re turning into a New Englander, Vishwakumar,” he told her, taking a pull of the Jack. He stepped in close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating off him.

“I am not,” she laughed taking the bottle from him and taking a pull of her own. She coughed a little as it went down causing him to smirk. “I don’t usually drink whiskey.”

“Here,” he turned to the fridge and grabbed a soda. “Chase with coke, it helps.”

Just as she went to open the can, a group of people came in, immediately crowding them because they were going to use the island for a game of quarters. At least, that’s what she was able to glean from the drunken shouts of her old classmates. She felt an arm wind around her waist and looked up at Paxton – her chest practically pressed against his.

“Hey, you want to catch up to get drunk or catch up with a friend?” he leaned down to speak in her ear.

“How about both?” she smiled, grabbing the bottle of Jack and slipping through the crowd with Paxton close behind.

“Devi, come on! Catch up!” she came back to reality to have Eleanor thrusting one of the mini fireball bottles she’d shoved in her purse into Devi’s hand.

“I hate fireball,” she groaned.

“Fireball!” her friends shouted, and they all downed a bottle.

“Ladies, we’re here.”

“Okay, okay, one more for the club,” Devi insisted.

With a cheer, all three girls shot another small bottle of fireball. After tipping the driver, Eleanor led them past the line and walked straight up to the bouncer.

“Ladies,” the man smiled. “You on the list?”

“Eleanor Wong,” she stated her name with a flutter of her eyelashes.

He was silent as he skimmed his clipboard. “I don’t see it…” he trailed off, looking up at Eleanor, “but hey, aren’t you in that new spy thriller with Michael B. Jordan?”

Her eyes lit up, “Yes! Shot for Death! Tom keeps saying I’ll get used to being recognized, but it’s such a rush! Oh, here he is now,” she held a finger up to the stout but muscular man as she answered a phone call. “Hello darling,” she said with a flourish. “We’re outside, but he says I’m not on the list. Could you?”

Within seconds, Tom Holland popped his head out the door. “Mal, they’re with me. They’re under my name.”

“My apologies, ladies. Head on in, and I can’t wait to see you on the big screen again, Ms. Wong.”

“Thank you!” she blew him a kiss as the girls hurried inside.

Tom and Eleanor greeted each other with a hug as Devi and Fabiola wandered over to the bar. When Eleanor first made friends with some prominent stars, Devi was star struck regularly. As she got more into her career, and treated more and more celebrities, she began to get used to being in their presence.

“Drinks or shots?” Fabiola shouted over the music.

“Shot for me and then I’m going to dance.”

“Yes, girl!” Fabiola pounded the bar, gaining the attention of one of the bartenders. “Can we get three B-52s?”

“Make it four and put it on my tab,” a man’s voice called from beside Devi. Her initial thought was that Eleanor and Tom had caught up to them, but it clicked almost immediately that the accent was distinctly American. And then it clicked again that she would recognize that voice anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she wheeled around on him.

“I’m out with some friends. What are you doing here, doctor? Are you following me?”

“Paxton?” Fabiola caught his eye past Devi.

“Hey, Fabiola,” he grinned. “Good to see you!”

“Same,” she smiled back. “I didn’t know you were in town?”

“Yeah, I’m home for some physical therapy,” he shouted gesturing to his shoulder.

It took Fabiola exactly no time to connect the dots, and Devi could feel it. Instead of looking at either of her current companions, she accepted the shots from the bartender with as much gratitude as she could muster. Devi carefully pushed a shot to her left and then to her right, clutching the remaining shots tightly.

“I’ll go give Eleanor hers.”

“Nope,” Fab cut off her escape and plucked the extra shot out of her hand. “I’ll do that. You take yours and go dance!”

“Oh, I’ll cheers to that,” Paxton said, leaning forward so she could hear him. “Come dance with me.”

Maybe it was alcohol from their successful pregaming clouding her judgment, or maybe it was the way she could lose herself in Paxton’s gaze just as easily as when she was fifteen years old, but Devi couldn’t stop herself from nodding and clinking her glass against his as they downed the shots in unison. He smirked at her, grasping her hand gently and leading her to the dancefloor.

It was crowded already, but so many of the people here loved that paparazzi never got in, and they could cut loose. Devi loved that atmosphere. Under the flashing lights, music pumping so loud you can’t hear anything else, dancing with friends, or a guy she would be way too nervous to talk to otherwise – it all just made her feel alive. She felt that same adrenaline as Paxton kept his left hand firmly on her hip but did not pull her into him. Instead, he left just enough space between them for things to be innocent.

As the beat dropped on a new mix, Devi felt Paxton’s hand like an anchor. They locked eyes for a moment, and she swore she could feel the energy crackling between them. The corner of his mouth quirked up, gaze never leaving hers. This man asked her on a date that morning. The man she’d so desperately wanted as a teenager – the man that she nearly idolized and seemed so unattainable in her youth was the same man in front of her, the one looking at her like pure sex. The thought had a laugh bubbling up in her that she couldn’t stop. Full belly laughter overtook her as she bounced and swayed to the music and just lost herself.

She wasn’t sure how much time past, but at some point, Eleanor and Fabiola joined them. The music had shifted from EDM to a mix of the most beloved hip hop music from ten to fifteen years ago. As intended, that shift had more people pouring onto the dancefloor, and having any space to breathe was impossible. To Devi, it was perfect. The beat was pulsing so loud, it felt like her own heartbeat, and the familiar music was lending to everyone’s closet-love for karaoke as people around her belted the lyrics. Then she felt two hands at her hips pulling her slightly backwards to dance against a man’s chest. Normally, she didn’t mind dancing with strangers. As long as they didn’t get too handsy, she didn’t even mind the approach this guy took. Tonight, things felt different. Her eyes flew open, and immediately met Paxton’s. His look was calculating. He wasn’t going to stop her if this was what she wanted.

The thought brought an easy grin to her face as she reached a hand out toward him. His lips twitched into a crooked grin, but he met her hand and spun her into him. In that moment, time stood still. Devi didn’t notice who had approached her before Paxton’s rescue. She wasn’t sure if Fabiola and Eleanor were still on the floor with them. All she knew was that her back was pressed against Paxton’s chest, and it felt like she belonged there. They swayed to the music together, and she felt his left hand rest on her hip again. His other hand swept the hair off her right shoulder, and she felt him press tighter against her.

“What do you want from me, Devi?” he asked, his breath hot on her neck.

“You’re not dating anyone?” she asked disbelievingly. “Not at all, not even one-night stands?”

They were sitting in Ben’s theater room on the floor passing the significantly less full bottle of Jack between them. It was nice. It was easy. The awkwardness of what happened in high school long behind them.

“Hey, I have never had a one-night stand,” he pointed at her. “Have you?”

“Well, no, but I’m me and you’re you,” she laughed.

“What does that mean?” his eyes narrowed at her good-naturedly as he took another pull from the bottle of Jack and passed it back to her.

“I just mean, one of us probably has people lining up to sleep with them, and the other one is me,” she shrugged.

“Why would you even say that? Have you looked in a mirror?”

“Come on, stop, I didn’t mean” –

“I’m serious, Devi. You are a very weird girl, like that’s your brand, but it’s hot. You’re hot. If you really think guys aren’t interested in you, you’re not paying attention.”

“Stop,” she waved him off, cheeks burning hot red. “You don’t have to do that.”

He was scooting closer to her until their thighs were touching, and his gaze was searching hers looking for any hesitation. “I know. I don’t have to do anything. You know what I want to do?”

Her skin tingled under his stare, and she shook her head ‘no.’ Her stomach somersaulted when he reached a hand up to cradle her jaw. “I want show you how beautiful you are.”

Devi turned in his embrace, draping her hands around his neck. Paxton’s head immediately fell to the crook of her neck, and she played with the hair at the nape of his neck as she leaned into his ear. “I want you to show me how beautiful I am.”

His head snapped up and he pulled back to look her in the eye. His jaw had gone slack, and he was looking at her with such curiosity that it made her second guess herself. Maybe he wasn’t interested after all. Maybe he’d just been swept up in not seeing her after so long that morning. Maybe he just wanted to see if he could still get her to fall at his feet. Maybe this was just a game to him. She started to unwind her arms from him to escape her embarrassment when he pressed one of her arms down to stay in place around him. His other hand was firmly pressed against the small of her back.

“Let’s get a drink,” he suggested, waiting for her confirmation. When she nodded, he took her hand off his shoulder, pressed a kiss against the back, and led her from the dancefloor back to the bar.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey sour,” she told him.

“Thought you didn’t drink whiskey?” he grinned.

“Things change.”

When their drinks were made, he nodded to a staircase, and she set off toward it with him close behind. The upper room was a quieter atmosphere. Tables and chairs, booths, a pool table – it was a great offset from the chaos downstairs. He placed their drinks down on a booth, and she slid into one side expecting him to slide in opposite her. Instead, he slid in next to her.

“Paxton, look I’m sorry if I misread things, I just” –

He placed a hand on her knee. “No, don’t do that. You didn’t misread anything. Just tell me why you said that exactly?”

***

Devi woke to the feeling of a hammer slamming against her skull. She could feel the sunlight piercing through her eyelids, making her roll over and press her face harder against her pillow. She heard a toilet flush, and that prompted her to inspect her surroundings a bit more closely. Blearily, she moved to a sitting position as the faucet in the bathroom ran. It was her apartment, that much she could tell. Maybe Eleanor and Fabiola decided to come back here? Fabiola lived closest to the club. That was why they pre-gamed at her place. Why would they come back to her place? Was she the only one coherent enough to call for a ride? With the way she felt this morning, that was unlikely. No, so who was using her bathroom and whistling as they walked down the hallway?

She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and unplugged it from the charger. She had a few unread messages in her group text with her friends.

*Let us know when you wake up this morning, we want to hear all the dirty details!*

*Also, avocado is a great hangover food!*

The dirty details? What did Devi do? So much of the previous night was a blur. At least she has clothes on – one of her dad’s old t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. That had a to be sign that she didn’t do anything too stupid. So, who was out there?

Only one way to find out, she thought, hoisting herself out of bed. She stepped out of her bedroom, and immediately smelled eggs. Devi padded down the hallway to the kitchen, and there was a steaming cast iron skillet sitting on a hot pad at the breakfast bar. No one was in the kitchen though.

“Hey, you’re up!” a voice cheered from behind her. Devi whirled around to the living room, to see Paxton on her couch carefully stretching one arm over the other shoulder.

“Jesus! Paxton, what are you doing?”

He tilted his head at her with a quizzical look. “I’m doing my shoulder exercises. You’re the one that assigned them.”

“Not that!” she couldn’t help but holler at him. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it again. His arms fell to his sides. “You actually demanded that I come here.”

“What?” her eyes went wide as she did her best to recall the events of last night. “Did we…?”

He started laughing as he stepped past her and behind the breakfast bar. “I knew you were too drunk to remember. No, we did not have sex. You were mad at me for that last night by the way.”

“No…” she trailed off taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Oh yeah, I told you I was going to take the couch, and you said you’d been waiting like ten years to see whether or not I stuff my swim briefs,” he smirked. “I don’t, in case you’re still wondering.”

“Oh my god,” this new information and the headache still throbbing against her skull was enough to make her vomit. Instead, she just dropped her head to the counter, the pressure soothing against her forehead.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It was cute… in a very Devi way,” he brushed her arm gently. “Sit up, you need to eat.”

She shifted her head slightly to meet his eye. “I yelled at you for not showing me your dick, and you stayed the night and made me breakfast.”

“Yeah, I had to make sure you were okay,” his eyes warmed to hers. “Now, sit up and eat.”

She obeyed and smiled when he pushed a loaded plate toward her. “This looks awesome.”

“Yeah, I had to work with what you had, but I call it a southwest sweet potato hash,” he told her proudly. After loading up his own plate, he came around the breakfast bar to sit next to her.

“So, anything else I should know about last night?”

“Well,” he paused to swallow a bite of food, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

She thought about the events of the previous night, as Paxton hopped up again.His energized movements distracting her, she asked, “Are you not hungover at all?”

“Based on what you told me, I had a lot less to drink last night than you did, so no, I’m not,” she heard him reply. She was staring at her plate because too much movement made her nauseated.

“You didn’t happen to make” –

“Coffee,” he cut her off happily, placing the mug in front of her, “and here’s some Tylenol. I was looking for blowfish or something but doesn’t look like you have any.”

She gratefully took the little pills from him and threw them back with a swig of coffee. “I used to. I stopped getting hungover for a while too.”

“Why’d you go so hard last night?”

“I think you know why,” she said with a glare.

He pursed his lips in a pout before choosing to ignore her implication and coming back to sit with her with his own cup of coffee. “So, what do you remember from last night?”

“I remember dancing with you on the dance floor.”

“Anyone else? Eleanor, Fab, some dude that I’m pretty sure was Lucas Hedges?”

“Okay, yeah. Some guy started dancing on me, and I wanted to dance with you instead,” she replied casually, continuing her breakfast.

“Nothing else? You don’t remember going to the upper room to talk about what happened at Ben’s party?”

“We talked about Ben’s party?”

“Well, yeah, funny thing is, I didn’t remember that,” he told her with a nostalgic grin. “Like I remembered it, but I thought I dreamt some of it.”

“What? Like what?”

“Well you were gone when I woke up, and never said anything about it so I thought…”

“You thought you dreamt making out with me?”

“Well, see so that’s all we did? It’s hard, because when I’ve dreamt about it since then…” he trailed off, the tips of his ears turning pink at his own admission.

“You’ve dreamt about it since then?”

“Not like a ton… it’s not like I’ve dreamt about you every night for the last eight years, that would be kinda creepy probably. Just any time something reminds me of you, it seems to come up… high school, something about Gross in the news… seeing you on social media… it’s not that weird.”

“Paxton…”

“I mean, whatever, I know I’m going to dream about last night for a long time,” he winked. She didn’t understand how he could have so little shame. Then she remembered she had enough to go around. “You made it your mission to remind me of every dirty detail of that night at Ben’s.”

“We made out last night?”

“We started to, yeah. Instead of getting hot and heavy, you ran off to the bathroom, and I found you with your head in a urinal. That’s when it was time to go home.”

“And that’s what you’re going to dream about?” she scoffed.

“No, I’m going to dream about you pawing at my zipper yelling about pringle cans.” He settled into a close-lipped smile, but it didn’t hide the mirth in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Devi groaned, slipping off her stool to flop over onto the couch.

She could hear Paxton laughing. Soon, he was settled on the couch with her. She turned her body just enough to catch his eye, and he patted his lap. She rolled her eyes but stretched out so her head was on his thigh and she was looking up at him. His features were soft, gentle, caring.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he told her softly, one hand carding through her hair. “I don’t mind when you act like you like me.”

“I’m not acting,” her eyes fell shut, feeling his fingers stroke her scalp could lull her to sleep.

“Yeah?”

She hummed an affirmative. She was pretty sure if he kept scratching her head like that, she’d say yes to anything. And of course, she liked him. She was never able to truly deny that fact. Even when she’d had boyfriends, she’d be lying if Paxton wasn’t always lingering in the back of her mind. How could he not be? His appearance was god-like. He was beyond hiding behind words – if she was honest, that was her favorite part – he wasn’t afraid to be real with her. And he never gave up on her. As rocky as their friendship had started, as often as they lost touch, here he was telling her, he still thought about her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she almost whispered.

“Me too.”

She felt his hand trace the edge of her face, and couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his touch, and pressing a kiss to his palm. Somehow, it was comfortable, intimate. She felt like she was born to be here. The same thought she had eight years ago came back to the forefront of her mind: It’s always been Paxton. At that realization, her eyes popped open. He’d leaned his head back, eyes closed; he looked as close to dozing off as she felt moments ago. His lips formed a peaceful grin, just slightly curved upwards, and his two small moles pinning opposite corners of his mouth were barely shadowed by the growth of his facial hair overnight. His long eyelashes curled naturally in a way, Devi thought, women would kill for. She always knew he was hot, but she never really took the time to notice how beautiful he was.

Before she could stop herself, before she could think twice, Devi leaned up and pressed her lips to his. And time stood still. Just as she was going to pull away again, his hand found hold in her hair, and his lips moved over hers with fervor. She wasn’t sure who opened to the other first, but in a flash their tongues were dueling for dominance. Instead of admitting defeat, Devi pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. He, honest to god, whimpered in response. She smiled against mouth before he swallowed her smile with one, two, and then three slow languid kisses. He pulled away, pressed her to his chest that she could feel was heaving. When she looked up to meet his eye, they were closed again, but he wore the most breathtaking smile she’d ever seen.

“Mm... I want to take my time with you,” he told her, pressing another kiss to her lips. She blushed at his implication. “God, I am not going to forget this any time soon.”

“Mood, my guy. Big mood,” she agreed, sitting up next to him.

He turned so he was halfway facing her, and his left hand took refuge on her thigh. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, waiting for her nod before continuing. “Okay, I don’t want to pop this, like, bubble we’re in right now, but… what does this mean going forward?”

“Paxton…” her eyes softened. She knew what she wanted, but with her job, how could she…

“Devi, listen. I know it’s my fault that you’re my therapist. I know that I made this difficult, but I really just wanted to see you, and now? I know one thing for sure, I really don’t want to wait another eight years to kiss you again.” he sighed, and repositioned again so he was fully facing her, clasping her hands in his. “I’ll wait for four weeks if it’ll make you happy. I’ll be your dirty little secret if that’s what you want. Just don’t turn me down. Let me take you to dinner, bring you flowers, make you soup when you’re sick. Give me a chance to sweep you off your feet.”

“Honestly, I’m stuck on ‘dirty little secret.’”

He smirked. “Lingering looks… shirtless assessments… secret dates… secret hookups,” he told her sensually, pausing between each suggestion to press a kiss first to her lips, then the corner of her mouth, her jaw, and finally ended by sucking her earlobe into his mouth and dragging his teeth over it. She shuddered under him, and felt him smile against her neck. “Do you like that idea?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

#never have i ever #never have i ever netflix #nhie #nhie netflix #daxton #dexton #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall yoshida #paxton hall-yoshida #paxton h y #devi x paxton #paxton x devi #writing #daxton fluff #dexton fluff #paxton hall yoshida fluff

86 notes · View notes

phantasmalduelist · 4 years

Photo

Living on the surface was a thing Ashirat never guessed she’d ever tolerate. But then again Ashirat had spent most of her time on the surface, unlike her species. Things had changed, the ocean was a painting—a vague feeling. Things had become familiar, the rivers were now roads made of dust and rocks. Things had become a distraction to keep memories away. Memories that pulled Ashirat’s mind beneath the crushing waves.

“I heard largos are great swimmers.” Khalida adjusted her gloves over the fresh bandages. “But I have never really seen you near the ocean.”

Ashirat ignored the question in that statement. A lot of people were curious about her “aversion” to water. It was nosy. “Yes, you haven’t.”

Khalida propped up her elbows on Ashirat’s table. She eyed the medical supplies, poking at the containers. “What’s up with that?”

“Why haven’t I seen you eating choya before?” She met Khalida’s curious gaze with apathy. The young Spearmarshal had always been far too curious. Ashirat didn’t know if it was a family trait or not.

“What?” Khalida furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“Isn’t that a human thing? To eat large quantities of choya?” Ashirat crossed her arms and leaned back on her chair. “Eggs and choya slices. You always wrinkle your nose. But your mother loves it.”

“Are you trying to insult me? Choya are… kind of cute! I can’t eat that. Nor do I know how mum eats it. Or ate. Okay?” Khalida stared at the table’s surface as if trying to figure something out. “Wait. Are you telling me going into the ocean is ethically wrong for some largos? Or is it your family?”

“Yes, I’m the largos version of your human vegetarians,” she said in a mocking tone.

“Oh skritt you. Keep your secrets then.” Khalida laughed.

***

Ashirat sat on the beach. Night had fallen and the shore was mostly deserted aside the local fauna. The beautiful full moon adorned the calm waves in the distance. Everything was eerily peaceful underneath the starry skies, making Ashirat’s thoughts easily drift away.

“A largos life is to live and die by your creed,” a distant voice echoed in her mind. “Ashirat, you will make your house proud. Your masters proud.” Ashirat twisted the knife inside the body and blood gushed out. “Your pact is eternal.”

The waves became more agitated and the water began to reach further into the beach. Ashirat tried to reach out to the sea, but her body was petrified.

So much buried in her soul. It was as heavy as a forgotten anchor. Maybe it had been a bad idea to come here, she thought in a rush of panic.

“Give me your life, your mark, your blood, your family. And I shall give you the freedom you desire.” The deep voice beckoned Ashirat closer. “But you may never step into the sea again. These waters will be like poison to you.” Through a canal of dark reefs and endless webs a twisted freedom awaited her.

Water touched Ashirat’s foot and she jolted back. So serene, yet the touch burned something deep within her heart.

A lifetime of regrets.

“Shira, you are a creature of the sea. You cannot keep living like this.” Solemn caressed her face. “I shall slumber for an eternity if it means you no longer carry a burden so deep. A sorrow so cutting. A curse so suffocating. I take this from you.”

She stared at her distorted reflection in the receding waves, and wet sand enclosed around her body. How long had it been since she left the sea? Tears began to fall down Ashirat’s face.

It felt wrong. It felt right. Both heart and mind pulled her apart. All her life letting others carry her burdens. Always a step away to creating another.

What kind of largos felt resentment in the embrace of the sea. What kind of largos cried for the people she had lost. What kind of largos didn’t honor her words. What kind of largos felt a deep sorrow in taking the lives of others for an ancient tradition. To feed a ritual so bloody.

She let herself be pulled by the currents, and as her body sank beneath the clear ocean, all that was buried surfaced. She swam like she had not done in over a decade. Relief. Water rushed against her face and she left a pang of guilt.

Solemn.

“I will bring you back home.”

It was a silent promise.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #Ashirat Seasapphire #Largos (♢)#largos #mentioned:#Khalida Mukantagara #the Solemn #my writing #click the read more #& hope you enjoy!#stories

48 notes · View notes

thewhumpstuff · 4 years

Text

You and I, Me and You [8]

@badthingshappenbingo [Original characters and content for prompt - Backhand Slap] Special thanks to @simplygrimly and @lettuceknighted for all their help and it was a lot! I feel like a child learning to walk and you guys held my hand throught this ;) --------------

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (You and I, Me and you: Chapter 9)

[<– Previous] ~ [Next –>]

Below the belt.

“Should’ve given me a chance if you really wanted to know. But you know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed, try try again.”. Her voice echoed in the cell and in his head. Jared clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes as she seemingly, threatened his life. Her words were blatant too and hurtfully so. She twisted the words he used to encourage her playfully. Not that she had any way to act on her words. Does she really want me dead, then? He looked down at the implement in his hand. And he hated her for being right. He could not simply channel the spirit of someone like Scarlett… Brutally, and yet, systematically thrashing a victim with a cane, especially an incapacitated one like Akira. Especially against Akira herself. It was not something Jared could pull off, not unless he absolutely had to. And he hated being in that situation, he had been there too many times.

But there were other things he could do… Death would merely be an unlikely sequela. In the end, it was an inevitability any way. He recognized that some part of his brain, did not quite reject that outcome as vehemently as it should have. He let the thought come… and go. No, I won’t let her take anything from me anymore. Besides, I’m better. Jared snorted. “Yeah? You wanna have a go… Shira?” She looked at him resolute, neck slightly craned to accommodate for the collar. Her eyebrows shot up with a certain eagerness. Tempers were smouldering. “You really are that curious, eh?” He answered by shoving his hand into his pocket, he clicked something, and the collar expanded. “The chain needs a valve, but the lock opens with a button…” She muttered with a mild fascination, it had enough room for her to wriggle it off her head, but it was heavy enough to require some effort.

He kept his distance and chuckled at her observation. “Didn’t expect us to employ designed theatrics?” A part of her could not fathom why he still insisted on associating himself with SpecSyn. It was her turn to slow clap. She beamed with mocking exaggeration. “Congratulations, my Red Knight! You have successfully risen to the level of your enemy. Because, honestly. SpecSyn does play nastier don't they? Either way, aren’t you proud?” Her accusation was against him as much as it was against the organization she had sworn her loyalty to. So she just decided that SpecSyn was nastier? Is that why she decided to simply stop doing her job? She really had a knack for killing the small joys he was trying to derive. The ghost of his chuckle echoed in the room. His palms were itching now. He dug his nails into them as he opened and closed his fist, stretching his fingers. “Go on then, get the shard, Akira, I’d hate for this to be one-sided.” Back to Akira instead of Shira. The sharper ache she had once felt at the loss of endearment, was much duller now.

She was tired, she was hungry, she was addled, and she was pissed. So, she leapt off her feet and flung herself at him. That was just insulting and pathetic. He had enough time and warning. His free hand wound towards the opposite shoulder, then it swung towards her face, once she was close enough. Smack. The combined momentum was enough for the impact of his knuckles and fingers to knock her back. Her face swivelled. Everything blurred. She panicked briefly, but he did not follow up with anything… yet, and gave her a chance to compose herself. Was he going to draw this out? Was this some perverse lesson? She gasped and stumbled backwards, carefully avoiding the smaller pieces of glass still on the floor. She held her ground. The sting of the slap felt intense enough to leave a lingering sense of numbness. Her ear rang a little. Her tongue jutted out to catch the trickle of blood that snuck out of the corner of her mouth, her lip split a little. Slowly, she righted her head to glare at him again. He had successfully evoked the feral in her. Never, had he struck her like that before. So, it was truly over then. This was it. At least, that is what it felt like. Her breathing was uneven, so was his.

“You expected me to roll over and die for you, Shira?” A drawl was not a common tone for Jared, but it suited him fine now. She realised that he adopted Shira whenever he got his taste of a small victory. He is mocking me… by mocking us! Or… Despite her being the captive, the interrogee… Being at his mercy, maybe she still had some hold over the situation. A part of her revelled in that knowledge. She wished to savour it for as long as she could. The power struggle between them was palpable. Akira wasn’t sure about killing him before, but she sure as hell wanted to now. An animalistic war-cry tumbled out of her lips. She threw herself at him yet again, but this time, her leap was measured.

He really did not peg her for the sort to make the same mistake twice. But then, she was being bullishly bellicose. Was she still not thinking with her head? He decided to use the cane this time, swinging it over his head almost warningly as she got closer. She did not stop. So, he decided to follow through. But he should have trusted his hunch. She was thinking with her head alright.

She did not simply lunge at him, she had a plan. Akira stepped in, towards him. Her arm shot straight out, as a wedge between him and his outstretched limb. Hers was flattened against her ear and blocked the incoming strike before he got the full-swing’s worth. The stick slid against her; she rolled her arm over his, to lock his stick-wielding wrist. Before he had the chance to wriggle out of this, which he certainly could manage with sheer brute force, she jabbed her knee into his crotch, once… twice, reared up for thrice but couldn’t follow through as her hatred waned. He exhaled sharply, then grunted as he keeled forward. The other hand caught her knee, her hesitance gave him time. “Below the belt… really?” A raspy, strained voice called her out. She would have retorted that after the slap, this barely left them even. But she was more interested in shutting him up.

She rearranged her knee, pulling it closer to herself. Her joint whisked his blocking hand on the way to its target: his face. He pulled away enough to prevent a nose break and almost opened his mouth to let his teeth graze flesh, but he did not want to fight dirty, or worse… end up with his teeth knocked in. His lips split in two places too. All he had to do, was to wait for her to make a mistake, because he was certain she would. She manoeuvred him to the floor, with his arm still in her grip. She pivoted him, by twisting the arm cruelly, as he fell. She ensured that he landed on to the glass shards on the floor. The cane slipped out of his hand. “Here, have your god-damn shards.” She hissed pressing his face into the ground with her knee and holding his arm in a lock, her hip flush against his elbow.

The small cuts against his jaw and cheekbones spouted crimson. But there were other pressing matters to deal with. Literally. Something was pressing against a joint he was rather attached to. Her legs stretched over his throat and neck as she sat back, with his arm pulled across her. She kept her elbows tucked in and his wrist in a strong lock as she slowly bucked upwards, rolling her hip against his outstretched elbow. “Having fun?” His words were still laboured, but the implication in his voice almost made her head cloud again. Almost. Keeping her motion controlled so she could draw this out, took effort, so her own voice was worn too. “You betcha!” But to show him that she was serious, she notched upwards just a little faster and just a little higher. He drew a sharp breath; he choked out a sound and swore with anguish. “F-FUCK…” Akira could have sworn she heard something crack. She loosened her grip.

In fact, she had not heard a thing, because nothing was broken. He was still reeling from the explosive pain between his legs. But his arm was fine. He flexed his elbow, it was close the fork between her legs now. In a moment of flitting anger, Jared considered taking revenge for the crotch shots but thought better of it. He sharply tucked his arm towards himself. His wrist slipped out of her grip. The moment the hold was broken, the two of them snapped away from each other, and they got to their feet in a hurry. I will walk away a better man.

Barely though, he did just test her concern for him and was surprised to find it was still there. He was not happy about the tactic he used, especially because it worked. In the recesses of his mind, he wished she did not betray any evidence of feelings that she may or may not have for him. That uncertainty, complicated things, in intent and in action. Akira let out a hollow, giddy giggle, it cracked the words she used to call out his cheap tactic. “I thought I’d be able to tell if you were ever faking it.” He rolled his eyes and absently flicked his thumb over the cuts on his face, to assess the damage. Expectedly, the touch elicited a sharp sting across the wounds and viscous crimson painted his skin.

She stumbled backwards to keep her distance, till her back was flush against the wall. “I mean… You could never tell when I did.” Her words dripped with bitterness. Naturally, she was hurt that he had exploited the fact that she still cared, it came as a surprise to her too. Now that it had been used against her, that tendon of attachment broke like the arm had not. It made her want to hurt him again. Somehow.

He had never paid much mind to the lurking feelings of inadequacy when it came to her, of not being social enough, happy enough… experimental enough. She had never let him dwell on it too, not until she left for Q.B… and met someone else, or so it seemed. It was not the original source of his antagonism towards her. He did not wish ill upon her for moving on as the distance and circumstance made communication impossible. But, with the backdrop of friction and guilt, her words touched a nerve he did not know had been exposed all this time. Neither did she.

Jared was unexpectedly swift. He really should not have let her petty words drive him to lash out. And he realised as much, in the time it took for him to close the distance and throw a punch. She barely managed a guiding parry and a small side-step away from him. The air his motion perturbed, whisked against her side. His knuckles collided with the wall. His own aim had wavered enough for him to miss, just barely. Her side step assured it. He was glad he did, even though, this time something did break. He groaned, but his fist remained against the wall and his arm stood like a fence between them. Aki’s fear rose like bile. She swallowed. If that had connected, she would be… considerably hurt. Without giving her a chance to recover from the shock, or himself from the pain, he stepped in closer yet and folded his elbow. His forearm fell across her throat. His shoe fell across her bare feet. Panic. There was the mistake he had been expecting. She tried to claw her way away from the wall and he let her, just enough to slip his arm around her throat. That's it then, for real this time. He's going to kill me. She thought as the arm coiled around her like a snake, tightening to slowly choke the life out of her. She almost wished she had taken the chance to tell him everything. She felt just as breakable as his arm and just like she could not break a limb, he certainly couldn’t break her. He did pull his arm towards him and squeezed, carefully. Not to kill, just to neutralise. As he slowly felt the struggle melt out of her body, his rage followed suit and melted out of him. She slackened in his hold.

[Category 2] [Tags: @cashieeetime and @beckstriad (because you’ve already seen the process ;) )]

#whump #badthingshappenbingo #captivity #interrogation #backhanded slap #fighting #playing-dirty #you and I me and you

5 notes · View notes

mythriteshah · 5 years

Text

The Next Act

Now well into his retirement from adventuring, the Mythrite Sultan himself was highly pleased over the reception of his Power in Beauty Catalogue’s Eikon Collection. The Higuri Regalia was well on its way at becoming a titan of fashion – more than just a gemcraft and textile empire.

After some… coercion from his lovable army of assassin-maidservants (more commonly known as his Angels), Lord Thiji Higuri has taken a more active role in the overseeing of his business amidst his retirement. He was making his way to his Aldenard Branch Headquarters in the Goblet when he saw his beloved family pet and Regalia mascot, Nyra, Mythrite Owl of Nald’thal, swoop in and greeted her master with a soothing hoot before perching herself on his head.

“’Tis a good day indeed, Nyra,” he spoke as he crossed the threshold into his estate grounds, the cherry blossom petals dancing around him ever so gracefully. “At last, this realm is finally beginning to find enlightenment in our wares… and none too soon, I might add. This battle is ours, but we must maintain our hold while we still have this momentum.”

Opening the door he would be greeted by parallel lines of mannequins leading up to the central staircase. Each mannequin was adorned in garb shown within the titular PiB Catalogue. The Vortex Ballgown. The Reveler’s Hakama. The Blissful Lehenga. The Hive Sherwani. All of them, impeccably made and crafted with the utmost care and consideration.

As he decontaminated himself with the aid of their Allagan Purification Module, he would be greeted by his old friend and Aldenard Branch Advisor, Shishira Shira.

“It is good to see you again, My Sultan,” she said as she bowed. “Welcome back. We have received a steady flow of activity from the seekers of fashion in our realm, and all are enamored by our masterworks.”

“Splendid news, my dear,” Thiji replied in his usual cool manner. “And your training with Her Grace?”

“I am a proud inheritor of the Mhachi arts now,” Shishira replied. “Queen Chichibi is an incredible teacher.”

He gave a nod of approval as he made his way downstairs to the Angels’ quarters, while Shishira inspected the clothing with glamour prisms to ensure the “proofing” failsafe was still active. As he made his way downstairs he would be met with three individuals: Bimala & Ekanta – his Ananta maidservants (who are essentially his Angels at this point) – and Isja, one of the Regalia’s newest models.

“My Ssssultan,” the Ananta greeted with a bow. Isja was practicing poses in her Angel uniform until she heard the two Ananta speak, then turned to see her beloved lord, silently bowing as well.

“Ladies,” Thiji said as he made his way to his quarters.

“What geniusss has the massster planned this time?” Bimala eagerly asked.

“We will know, friends, in due time,” Isja answered in her quiet voice. She then turned to the Mythrite Sultan and grinned. “Remember, my lord: whatever you may have planned, my body shall always be your easel.”

“Thank you, Miss Isja, for your efforts,” he responded. “Miss Bimala. Miss Ekanta. My thanks to you as well for bringing the Regalia to where it is today.”

“Our pleasure, my lord,” Ekanta replied. “We have ssseen firsthand your worksss, and you bring truth to the wordsss ‘Power in Beauty’. We are more than honored to ssserve the Regalia.”

After a calm bath, the Mythrite Sultan would contemplate within the confines of his Mhachi coffin. As he closed his eyes, he dreamed. He saw himself in the most lavish parties and galas, with people the realm over clothed in the very attire of the PiB Catalogue. Partygoers looked on and exchanged hushed whispers, praising the Lalafellin noble for his fashion acumen and most refined of tastes.

Plays were even made in his honor, which flattered him to such a degree that he was nothing short of embarrassed. But it was during this juncture that he recognized the actors on stage: they bore a striking resemblance to the Majestic Imperial Theater Company of the Prima Vista, the massive airship which housed the selfsame group as they traveled the realm, bringing the magic of theater to the masses. Their biggest and most ambitious of plays was the Zodiac Brave Story, detailing the events of ancient Ivalice which led to the War of the Lions, and Delita Heiral’s rise to power.

This caused the Mythrite Sultan to stir from his mid-afternoon slumber, rising from his bed to rush over to his desk, searching over the tomes he had kept since his first journey to Eorzea. And there it was: the tales of the valiant heroes of Thavnairian legend who saved the realm from utter destruction – the tales of his people.

Then, after another perusal, he would find an old codex he had not used since before the Dragonsong War – the Last Resort. A Zodiac Weapon. Its vast aetherial reserves and esoteric techniques were responsible for many of Nym’s victories during its time. And it was this very same codex that the Nymian hero, Golbas Rombas, saved his people from the Sixth Umbral Calamity of Water. The only piece of the puzzle was how to go about bringing his vision to fruition…

From outside his chambers the Ananta maidservants and Isja had their ears against the wall, feverishly awaiting their lord’s discovery since he sprung from his nap. All they heard from beyond the wall was one word:

“Atma…”

Before the Angels had time to figure out what in the seven hells an “Atma” was, Thiji had already appeared from out his chambers. He turned to them before giving the ladies a commanding glare.

“I know our course, Angels,” he declared. “I require Auracite.”

“Auracite, My Sultan…?” Isja calmly questioned.

“We will recreate the Holy Stones as told in the Zodiac Braves. Not precisely as they were, thankfully, but a safer variant where the wearer need not fear possession by an otherworldly demon. We will re-imagine these evil beings and the Zodiac Braves into works of art so masterful that it will rival our own Eikon Collection.”

“I have heard talksss of your Lion Order patronsss within Rabanassstre, my lord,” spoke Bimala. “Perhapsss they can provide you with the Auracite necessary for your next endeavor.”

“Thank you, Bimala,” said Thiji with a nod. “I will request some to be obtained during their stay; their impeccable timing has worked in our favor yet again. Isja, are you prepared to bring further greatness to your race?”

“Always, My Sultan,” Isja replied, “and even more prepared to keep my rival on her toes.”

The Mythrite Sultan, with his path now set, was ready to commence the next milestone of his Magnum Opus – a section that will combine the beauty of the Near East with the glorious Zodiac Braves of Ivalician and Thavnairian legend.

The time has come for the battlefields of fashion to be seized yet again.

#thiji higuri #Higuri Regalia #fashion #high fashion #haute couture #Power in Beauty #Ananta #lalafell #lalafell master race #FFXIV #FFXIV A Realm Reborn #ffxiv rp #ffxiv balmung #balmung rp #atma #ivalice #ffxii #ff14 viera #lalashell

10 notes · View notes

dimancheetoile · 6 years

Text

summer is sweet (but blood is sweeter)

part 3 of the “The Haruno Clan is a samurai clan” AU

part 1 - part 2

ShikaSaku - rated T

read it on AO3

“So you won't take the citizenship?”

Sakura snorts. She takes her eyes off the blade she's sharpening and eyes the bandages around Shikamaru's hand. He looks away, so she goes back to her blade.

“I'm not sure what you'll be able to do in the village,” he says, something slightly haughty in his voice.

She gives him the side-eye. “Are you really so privileged? I know you're from a clan, but is it such a rich one that you can afford your obliviousness?”

“You don't need to speak to me like that.”

She laughs, sharp and quick like the katana she's sheathing back. “There is always need of a blade for hire in a hidden village, shinobi-kun. If only because you're all so expensive most of the citizens can't afford you. And trust me, that's enough for bloody business to develop in the underground. If you're too blind to see that, maybe you all need a crash course in politics.” She ties the katana to her hip. “I can't believe I'm more knowledgable on the issue than you are.”

Shikamaru crosses his arms. “That might be true in Kiri, or Suna, but I really don't think we have that going on in Konoha.”

Her wide eyes are mocking him. She doesn't answer, but her snort of laughter is enough. “We'll see how long it takes me to find a job, Shikamaru. In the meantime, go back to your diplomacy and flashy fights. It looks to me like you ninja don't know how to do anything else.”

She leaves him behind without another word. The more time she spends in Konoha, the more disappointed she is in everything and everyone. Especially Shikamaru. Bastard. I thought I could trust you. She should have known better than to place her hopes in a man willing to lie with a woman like her. That might just have been his plan all along, after all. Didn't he get his intel, without having to infiltrate anything more than her cousin's ass? And he got a free lay with Sakura. How foolish of her.

The inn she's staying at was picked by the Hokage, so it's full to the brim with shinobi who don't have a qualm talking about village business where she can hear it. All the more for her if she decides to leave. That kind of intel might just save her life once she's out.

They look at her funny when she gets inside, probably because the first thing she did after the Hokage paid her for her secrets was to buy a battle kimono.

In pure spite, she had chosen a bright orange one, with a muddy yellow haori. The armour she wears to protect her chest is dark red and it clashes horribly with both her hair and the colour of the kimono. She hates it. It's awesome. She's everything but discreet and it offers her the perfect kind of attention.

No one takes a fighter seriously dressed in those colours. All the better that she carries the protection seal of the Hokage, because in that case, it means she can afford to dress like that precisely because she's dangerous as fuck.

She likes the looks the shinobi send her. The youngest ones are chuckling, trying not to show too much how ridiculous they think she looks. The oldest, the toughest ones? They eye her like she's rogue Mist, and she revels in it. She gets a seat at the back of the room, beneath a window facing the busy street. It's early evening and families are still outside.

A waitress with a missing eye and a deep burn scar on the neck comes to take her order. A wave of nostalgia washes over her body, the feeling of uncertainty in her recent decisions making her sick. So she asks for a bottle of plum liquor from Iron, the alcohol she's enjoyed the most since her father made her drink herself sick when she was ten.

It doesn't surprise her when, a second after the waitress disappear, three shinobi sit in front of her. She eyes them warily. The first one is dressed all in green, and his dark hair reminds her of the nobles at the daimyō's court . She tenses at the danger he inspires in her. He might look goofy, but his aura is way too strong, and his broad shoulders speak of incredible strength.

The second man has red tattoos on his cheeks, and she's sure she's seen them somewhere before. His grin is feral, so she looks away quickly to find the only woman, just as broad-shouldered as the first man, her tan skin healthy in the setting sun.

“What can I do for you, shinobi?”

The tattooed man smirks. “We thought we'd get to know each other, rōnin-sama. Hinata had a lot to say about you.”

Why does she know that name? Oh, Kami. He's on first name basis with the Hokage. Just great. At least he wasn't being sarcastic when he used the honorific. And that's when she recognises the marks.

“You're an Inuzuka!”

“Yes, I am,” he grins, proud and loud like only clan children can be.

Sakura stares, like he's a piece of jewellery on display. What an odd sight, that confidence, that trust in the safety of his home. Then again, he knows the Hokage well enough to call her by her first name. No wonder he can smile like that.

“I've worked with yours before,” she says, careful not to say too much. She's unsure of how well-spread the news of her treason are. “You respect our work. I appreciate that.”

His nod is sincere. “Samurai are great trackers, even better hunters. We complement each others. The Inuzuka have a great deal of respect for your art, swordsman.”

She hums pensively, almost liking that young man who trusts too much and thinks swordsmanship is an art. “So what's your deal? Why come talk to me?”

“'cause you brought Shika back,” the woman says finally.

“And thanks to you, we can now take down the Haruno spies in our precious village, my lady rōnin,” the dark-haired man adds. And that answers what they know about her situation. She has to take a minute to swallow the fact that secrets are so easily shared in a supposedly hidden village.

“I'm Inuzuka Kiba. This is Rock Lee and Hyūga Tenten.”

Sakura does a double-take. That woman looks nothing like a Hyūga. She must have married inside the clan, which makes it all the more obvious that those people have a high position in Konoha politics.

“If it's alright with you, we'd like to introduce you to the rest of our friends,” Tenten says. “They're very excited to meet you.”

Sakura doesn't even try to hide the disbelief on her face. “Sure, I guess.”

“Right, follow us, then!”

Because, apparently, the rest of their friends is sitting a few metres away and has been listening to their entire exchange. Konoha fuckers. There's a lot of them, but they already made room for her and the three who came to get her, so she can't use that as an excuse to get the fuck out of that bar.

She's about to sit when a familiar ponytail catches her attention. She has to blink a few times, because that can't be happening, that's not possible, she was—

“I thought you were dead,” Sakura whispers, her voice cracking as she stares.

The chatter at the table quiets down, everyone having caught on what she just said. Something is stuck in her throat. She wants to cry.

“I thought you were dead,” she repeats, a sob echoing in the last word. “They told me you were executed. They told me it was my fault!”

She can't stop the tears from coming. For years, she had burnt incense at the little shrine she built in secret, deep in the Haruno Estate. She had prayed every day for forgiveness, for the rest of the spirit of her oldest, dearest friend. The only person she was every allowed to talk to. Until they tried to escape together, servant and master, hand in hand.

“They brought me back your hair and told me I would never be allowed to speak to another child until I completed my training,” she says, bitterness coating her tongue. “I was whipped once for every day we spent together,” she adds, her voice low, and that gets a gasp from the ghost in front of her. “We knew each other for five hundred and ninety-eight days.”

“Ojō-sama...”

“DON'T CALL ME THAT!”

A low whine escapes from her throat, her sobs unstoppable.

“Was Shira even your real name?” Her laugh is hysterical. “Of course not. After all, you were just a Leaf spy sent to steal our secrets.” She looks at all the blank faces around the table, some shocked, most of them grim. “Here I thought hidden villages were soft. But sending a ten-year-old to spy on an even younger child? That takes some guts. I'm impressed,” she spits.

“Sakura? Ino? Is everything okay?”

She turns around, finding Shikamaru looking at them with worry. She shakes her head, nausea making her take a stabilizing step back.

“Enjoy your evening, Ino-chan.”

She leaves the tavern without looking back.

#shikasaku #samurai verse #sakura #shikamaru #kiba #ino #tenten #rock lee #my writing

34 notes · View notes

fiveknivesdates · 4 years

Text

Prolouge

Miriam

It's strange from the bottom of the sea. Depending on how deep you’ve gone, the sun might not even reach you, but if the light does find a way down to you, it’s even more bizarre. It's like standing in a desert, devoid of anything living, except you and your heartbeat. There is no air around you, but only vision-slurring, body-cooling, sound-removing water.

Back when Miriam was still a kid, she would sometimes find herself standing on a beach, listening to the waves. If she was feeling especially brave, she would even take a few steps out into the dark blue ocean. Miriam likes to think that she already back then knew where her real home was.

And home she was. She was standing in the Glass Pyramid, an ancient building beneath the Atlantic ocean that the first Tethered humans had built. It was a sanctuary for people like Miriam; hidden from the normal humans who weren't supposed to know about this more divine breed of humans. The Glass Pyramid was separated into fifteen floors, each one smaller than the one beneath it. Right now, Miriam was standing on the top floor of the building, with a mug in hand while looking out into the ocean through the clear walls. In the nineteen sixties, a deep diver had accidentally stumbled into the pyramid. It had been a hazard getting hold of his film and destroy it, and it had been even more tedious having to set up barriers that blocked normal humans from viewing the pyramid. In the end, though, it ended up being worth it. The Glass Pyramid felt even safer than before, and that made Miriam proud.

Miriam had been elected forty-two years ago when the last leader died. It was no surprise that Miriam had been elected since it had become a tradition to have the oldest, and therefore most experienced, Tethered be the leader. Miriam was currently a little over two hundred years old, which was impressive for a Tethered person.

Tethered people could, in theory, live forever. Once they reached the age of nineteen they stopped aging, both physically and mentally. The reason why the immortality was only a theory, was that most Tethered couldn’t stand the long life. Miriam had seen many dear friends kill themselves to end their inhumanly long life, and she had even thought about doing so herself. Then twenty-two years ago, Erika had come to the Pyramid, and all of Miriam's thoughts about ending her own life vanished. Then two years ago, Erika had woken Miriam up on a quiet Sunday morning, whispering into Miriam’s ear, and now Miriam couldn't even understand why she had ever thought about leaving the world.

Now there were two minutes until Erika and her team would come back from their mission. Miriam didn't have to check the time. She knew it from the way the ocean moved, from the way the ground shook slightly. Most people don't realize how much the planet is moving, but, Miriam supposed, most people didn't live long enough to even have to think of it.

Miriam saw the shapes of bodies swimming towards her.

Two seconds.

It had been nearly two hundred years since Miriam first swam towards the Glass Pyramid. She remembered looking at it for the first time and knowing that this was going to be her forever home. It was love at first sight. Back then, the pyramid had been decorated into carpeted floors and lavish furniture. Miriam had never seen such a beautiful place, and it simply took her breath away. When she closed her eyes, she could still remember the feel of the ornamental rug that used to be in the sitting room.

Miriam took a sip of her tea at the same time the team broke through the glass walls. Erika fell first, landing on her feet, out of breath, with a smile on her face, which was very much an Erika thing to do.

Erika looked at Miriam. She said, “Mission was a success.”

Then the others fell through the roof.

Miriam didn't bother staying any longer. Signaling to Erika, she nodded and took the firepole down. She reached her office quickly, moving swiftly through the maze-like building. Over the years, the Glass Pyramid had had many inhabitants, all of them leaving their own touch on the place, and the result was a cramped and cozy mess. Miriam liked it very much, every day she would learn something new about the Pyramid and all the people before her.

Inside her office, she pressed the yellow button on the wall. Meeting. The buzzer sounded through the radio system, and the sound of people moving on other floors was clear as day for Miriam’s practiced ears.

Back when Miriam was still living her normal life, she would sometimes sneak up to the attic. If she sat on the big old crate, she could see through the hole in the roof. From there, she used to listen to the wind. It made a peculiar sound when it entered that little hole. Like a whistling, like a song. Miriam came up to the attic often, trying to figure out how the wind sang like that. One day she managed to figure it out, and she managed to make the wind sing different songs. That was the first time she ever used her powers.

The meeting was brief. It wasn't even an important mission, only a collapsed building. The most important part of the mission, was for the team to figure out what caused the incident. Miriam had hoped it might be a new Tethered human, they could always use more hands, but unfortunately, it had only been an earthquake.

“I managed to help the civilians out of the site,” Erika reported “Meanwhile Aiden and Shira tried to minimize the damage. Lynn checked on the town’s aqueduct, making sure the earthquake hadn’t caused a leak.”

“Thank you, Erika,” Miriam said as Erika sat herself back down in the chair. Miriam looked around at all the people gathered. “Anything more?”

“Yes, actually” Adi said, rising from his seat. After Miriam, Adi was the oldest. He didn't do missions any more, but stayed in the Pyramid where he made magical objects and provided everyone with valuable knowledge from his many studies. “I’ve been looking at the data Zeph and Javier collected. Someone is definitely using magic in Scandinavia regularly. Possibly a new Tethered. ”

Miriam looked over at Zeph, his head was hanging low and his arms clinging to nothing on the table. Miriam was almost certain his eyes were closed. Zeph had been on a mission to Germany two months ago, along with Javier their healer and tracking expert. Only one of them had returned.

Although these immortal humans could die, it was a rare sight. And Javier’s death was stranger than most. No suicide note, no traces of the murderer other than the fact that Javier’s heart had suddenly grown out of his chest.

Miriam shook her head as if to banish the image. “Okay. We’ll send someone out in a few days. For now, I want everyone to enjoy being in a full house. Meeting over.”

Everyone were quick to get out, the mention of Javier’s name stinging a bit too much. Miriam gave Zeph a friendly pat on the shoulder as he left, and Erika who trailed behind Zeph touched Miriam’s elbow briefly with light fingers. It made Miriam smile. A sad kind of smile, nostalgic and regretful, longing and missing.

The rest of the day was so normal it began to feel strange. There was training, watching television, forgetting to drink water, reading the current news while eating noodles from a cup even thought there was perfectly good food in the fridge. Miriam could feel something underneath her skin, and it was not the normal sensation of youthful magic flowing in her old veins. The feeling was much more human, it made her feel dread down to her bones. It made her feel suspicious.

Miriam decided to go for a swim. She knew the ocean would welcome her and make her worries wash away, just like it always did. And it worked. As soon as she stepped outside, she smiled. She closed her eyes and she swam. Twisting in joy, shaking her hands just to feel the comforting weight of the water restricting her movement. She ran her hands through her hair, and it was like touching silk. She breathed in, breathed out, like a fish.

She was at home.

She didn't hear or feel anything, she only saw the blood as it started to pour from her. She touched her fingers to her chest and found a hole that wasn't supposed to be there. It was also the source of the blood. Her lungs filled with saltwater, her body fell to the ground, feeling the deep-sea pressure for the first time. The ground shook in times with her heartbeat. It was slowing down. Dying. None of that mattered to Miriam. She was at home with the sea, she had come from the sea. She would die at sea, and somehow, someday, she would be revenged at sea. That was the last thought that passed her mind, and it rang truer than any other thought in her entire life. Next chapter -> Chapter index

0 notes

paranoidwino · 7 years

Text

the horse in my dreams

You can read this also on AO3 Please leave a comment!

Happy birthday @ragwitch !!!

Thank you so much for being you and I hope this day is filled with joy and happiness! I hope you like it! :D

“You have 2 new messages!”

Darcy tried really hard not to lunge at her phone; Jane was still there after all.

But she had messages, two new messages.

She looked at the clock surreptitiously, 2.45pm. She deflated immediately. Of course it was just Nene and Bells’ updates. Meh.

Every day since the dawn of time Bells would wake up, bat her cute blonde eyelashes and rise with her golden wings. The sun would rise and Nene would lower the moon and… possibly get into bed? She had never asked what they did after that. It wasn’t even a difficult job, they just needed to give the things a light push. The sun and moon were as self sufficient as her dawn.

She reached for her phone slowly, tapped in the pin and slammed her thumb on the ‘Gate’ app with more force than necessary.

It was a simple app, with just a big red button in the center, and it was exactly that.

Like the useless box, Gate consisted of a button that was created to be pressed at will without any real use. Unless you were Darcy, of course.

She counted the minutes slowly, and as soon as the display signaled the go ahead, swished her thumb again on the red button. A question popped up immediately. “Would you like to proceed?”

Well, yes, or Bells will destroy me… she sighed. Confirm.

“Dawn successful.”

Yay… job done. Was she supposed to feel proud? Like, yay, you pressed the correct button, dawn is coming and humanity will not suddenly wonder why the sun is up at night?

Three more messages had come her way checking if everything was okay.

Darcy huffed.

‘No one panic, all is okay!’ and then she felt guilty, because she wasn’t any more patient than they were. So she added a quick ‘how’s everyone doing?’

The first replies came from the family gods, followed by a slew of ‘I’m okay, how are you?’ from all the minor critters. The big Kahunas didn’t peep at all, but they were always busy (case in point, she didn’t remember the last time they met all together?). Sometimes she wondered what it was like, always being needed and wanted.

Oh, Darcy did have her glory days, back when there were no cars and the only way to move were horses. Ah, the glory of being the goddess of horses during the past five thousand years.

Those times were over, though, and horses were nothing more than a luxury now. She still had to oversee them once in awhile, but now her duties were exclusively composed of ‘making dawn happen’ and ‘protect the heroes’.

And because never let it be said that the Zorya of protection didn’t know how to do her job, she’d planted herself right smack in the middle of it all, at Avengersland.

Okay, it had been completely accidental, but come on! No one should question her methods, seriously.

Avengers Tower was the best place. She’d lived all over the world and in every kind of abode, but this really really took the cake. Well, live was a big word, she mostly crashed into Jane’s apartment. She had her own flat, far from JARVIS and Tony’s prying eyes, but still. Jane wasn’t complaining about her company and she got to cook for everyone in the mornings and have the best view of the city.

“Darcy?” Jane’s voice roused her from her thoughts. “Have you seen Jacob the spectrometer?”

“...You killed Jacob two days ago, Janey. Cannibalized to build Jack, the new and improved version.”

“Oh.” Jane blinked. “And where is Jack?”

“I’ll go fetch it for you.” Darcy huffed. She needed to text a bit more anyways.

‘I need you to step in the Red Zone a bit tonight.’

Darcy gaped.

Reread the message.

Nope, it was still the same.

Her jaw clenched a bit and she clicked her tongue twice.

Had she been in a less public place, she’d have screamed. But she wasn’t. So she waited the end of the day with the same grimace painted on her face.

The moment the door of her apartment closed behind her, however, she wasted no time pressing the ‘recall’ button.

“Hello, you have reached Shira’s voicemail, please leave-”

“Don’t you even dare, you sugary porcupine!” She threatened slowly.

“a message after the beep.”

How dare she!

Darcy hung up and took a big breath. This was not the moment to freak out.

It wasn’t the first time the goddess of immortality, the pink confetti porcupine (who would forever be called ‘slave driver’!), sprung a sudden switch of shifts on her, but this was taking it a bit too far.

One, the Red Zone was in Europe, and she was totally not. Two, it was already night in Europe!

What was she thinking. There was no way she could be in Europe in two seconds without borrowing some serious wind power-up, and she owed the Buyany one favour too many.

No, going in person to patrol the areas between Russia and Austria was not an option.

The only option left was… No. Nope, no.

They had apps now for this, no regalia was necessary to do their job. Heck, she’d dumped the giant shield and double-bed-sized cloak the moment Toth developed the Gate.

As if summoned, the Shield vibrated from its hiding spot in the sealed trunk under her floorboards, making the flat shudder a bit. The neighbours woke up with a gasp, wondering about earthquakes.

Darcy was too classy a god to giggle. Nah, who was she kidding.

But the problem wasn’t solving itself. And the more she waited, the longer the Red Zone would be left unchecked, and this wasn’t ideal.

She checked her phone. Nope, Gate was closed until 2pm for her. Rude.

She groaned. She’d have to do it ‘old school’.

List lied.

They all did.

All these people with their ugly minds and their disgusting paws and their beady eyes.

Wanda was done with them.

She put her hands on the wall that she shared with her brother’s prison and pressed her face into it. They didn’t let them talk to each other, they couldn’t even see each other.

But these mad men watched. They saw everything.

Pietro and Wanda’s rooms were glass cubes for Hydra, the only walls separating them from each other and from the outside. She supposed she was lucky. Her room had a tiny bolt hole that made it possible to look outside. It almost made up for the lack of toilet or privacy.

...Who was she kidding.

She was seventeen, and these soldiers and scientists had seen her in various states of undress, they’d stared at her as she ate, probably ogled her while she slept.

She fought a wave of nausea.

Suddenly the little window at the top of her cell seemed the only good thing of this place of torture.

Liberation Front for Sokovia my ass, she despaired.

She and Pietro had thought this was the answer. They were finally doing something for their country, this was what their parents would have wanted.

But it wasn’t true.

They’d been played like the kids they were and now it was just them out of over 200 candidates for the List procedure, the remaining 198 killed by the Sceptre.

The Sceptre. She shivered.

It had shown her everything, a new life and a purpose. It had given her powers.

But it probably didn’t intend to give her such a power, because she could see and feel its machinations behind the kind words, and after a while she stopped responding to them.

She didn’t show it, lest they start torturing her again, but she was free.

And she was going to free her brother too.

Wanda watched with trepidation as the last of her handlers fell asleep. They usually did that. Sleep and presumably wake up when she was asleep. They never bothered with security cameras either, since the whole cage was all glass panels and there was nowhere they could hide.

No matter, tonight, she was going to peek from the window and plan her escape.

Only, there was no light outside, no moon to show her the way, and her cubicle was so bright the contrast didn’t really allow for any kind of visual.

She cursed in Sokovian and refrained from spitting on the floor.

It was then that she saw it.

A magnificent, shining horse, as big as the mountains surrounding her beautiful Sokovia, trotting slowly across the forest with his huge legs. He was made of smoke, or wisps of light, she didn’t know, but he was silent as a grave and his hooves didn’t make the ground tremble after him. Maybe she was dreaming, after all.

But it didn’t look like a dream. It didn’t feel like one.

And before she knew it, the horse became rosy and red and golden, reached the horizon line, and it was dawning already.

She lowered herself to her cot, pleased that no one had noticed, and contemplated the exceptional event.

There was only so much her brain could have made up. If, and it was a big if, she wasn’t dreaming, if this was real and the horse had been real too, there was only one explanation that made sense.

It was a very shaken Wanda Maximoff that, for the first time in years, curled into a corner and prayed.

Thousands of miles afar, Gate was opened again.

“You have one message.”

Huh.

That was weird. Like, really weird.

Darcy glanced at her clock, it was still obscenely early for Nene to start bitching at her, he should be recharging the moon in… five hours? Six, maybe? She was totally not responsible this time: dawn was not happening for another good fifteen hours.

It wasn’t Nene, or Bells. It so wasn’t. Darcy almost dropped from the chair she was sitting on, attracting Jane and Natasha’s attention.

“Is everything alright?” Natasha asked, sipping at her drink with an elegance one wouldn’t give to a Russian with vodka.

Evening drinks between girls were the shit, seriously, and Jane was a STEM major, she had the best friends and the best recipes when it came to experimental alcohol.

“Yeah, yeah.” Darcy laughed nervously. “It’s just… Nothing, nothing!”

Natasha looked at her curiously for a moment longer, but then went back to talking with Pepper about Tony and apparently that was that (she didn’t believe that for a second, Nat had a perfect track record at being inconspicuous. She’d have to warn the dreams god, just in case).

But this… this hadn’t happened to her since, well, at least since cars were invented, maybe even earlier!

Someone had prayed. Like this was an honest to ...could she even say ‘honest to God’?, well, anyway, this was an official request, a 100% legit message. For her!

She could think of nothing else all night long, and it came almost as a relief when everyone bade each other goodnight and they all went their separate ways (‘I’m taking a cab, Nat, I am not going home alone, promise!’...As if).

She swiped her hand over the Gate, excited for the first time to open the dreaded app. Of course, the excitement lasted for all of three seconds. She had expected a prayer for a horse, maaaaybe a thank you for the most beautiful dawn of all times, but her stomach bottomed out in panic when she read the three words.

‘Please, save us.’

It was signed as ‘Wanda Maximoff, 17’ and followed by an information overload about her whereabouts and past. Toth had done his job alright with this app, she hardly had to do anything at all to find the believer.

Darcy’s heart broke at the story behind the girl… Young woman, she amended. One doesn’t suffer this much without becoming a woman, and she wished she could solve all of her problems with a simple waving of her hand. She couldn’t.

There had been a time, when she’d been the strongest of protectors, when she could have wielded her Shield and instilled terror on the assailants of the poor and weak, when she could have taken her Cloak and protected everyone. These times were long over. No one asked for this kind of help anymore, no one fed her with power to do it.

But the idea of leaving this girl, who had probably swallowed more pride than she was allowed to, and that was probably scared witless with no hope to escape, to die cold and alone made tears spring to her eyes (and she was not a pretty crier, despite what the bards had said about her and morning dew… yeah nope).

Her Shield rattled from under her floor. The lamps flickered.

No, she couldn’t abandon Wanda and pretend nothing had happened. “I… suppose I could ask Nene for help… He’s bound to owe me one in the next few centuries.”

With a nod she moved her bed and the wooden planks that separated her from her trunk. The Shield was too impatient, however, and with one last rattle, ecstatic to be so close to its master, broke free of the containment measures put upon it and rolled at her feet.

She huffed and stroked it affectionately. It hummed a bit, as if purring.

“You impatient little thing”, she scolded him playfully. “Looks like we’re going into battle once again.”

“Oh? Are you?”

Crap.

“Ah!” She jumped at the sound and scrambled on her feet.

“So,” Clint started out from the window he was perched on, “Nat tells me to check on you because you might have gotten in some trouble and here you are, with a ...is that a Shield at your feet?”

“...If I told you nothing is happening and that even if I don’t come back by tomorrow everything is cool as cucumber, would you believe me and report these exact words to Nat?” His eyebrows reached the hairline of his incredulous face. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” She gestured vaguely at the bed, “Come in, it’s already a mess without you falling from the windowsill.”

Clint pouted. “There’s the fire escape under the window, I’m fine.”

“Right.” She deadpanned. “We’ll just say the last four times were all calculated.”

His pout cleared and he shrugged, but he still entered her room and sat on the bed.

They looked at each other in silence for a few minutes.

And a few minutes was already too much time she was losing there.

“Look.” She started awkwardly, “if you’re done staring, I really need to get going. I’ve got an appointment to sell my soul, yeah?”

That shocked him into moving again. “Sell your soul? To who?”

“Nene.” She replied absentmindedly. The trunk was still unlocked under the floor, so she reached forward and physically dove into it to look for her Cloak.

“Who’s Nenay?”

Darcy’s head poked from the lid of the trunk. “Nene.” She repeated, louder. “He’s the god of the moon.”

Clint blinked.“...Okay. Why are you selling your soul to the god of the moon?”

Darcy huffed, closed the trunk with a snap (no trace of her Cloak, go figure, prissy thing) and looked at him, then made a ‘ta-da’ gesture with her fingers. “I don’t… think I’m going to sell my soul, like, whole soul, but man I’m going to owe him after tonight.” She looked meaningfully at the trunk. “If I manage to leave somewhere in the next century.”

“Why are you selling your soul?” He looked serious now. Whole body forcefully relaxed and eyes fully focused on her.

“...Fine.” She sighed and ruffled her hair. “I received the first real prayer since… I don’t know, maybe 1760? Ish? Later? I can’t remember, but I didn’t have believers at all and this girl needs my help and I need to reach the other side of the world tonight and unless I sell my firstborn to Nene there’s no way I’ll be able to penetrate an enemy base and leave with two mortals.”

“You’re a god.” He was… very cool about it, considering the last ‘god’ he’d met was an Alien prince that wanted to kill mankind. She nodded. “I... I’m just trying to do my job. I need to do my job. And that girl needs me.”

He mulled it over a bit, and then clapped his hands. The bed bounced with his sudden movement. “Okay, where are we going?”

Reasoning with Clint about party members’ veto was like championing to discuss reason with a goldfish. Useless and counterproductive.

“You’re not going” turned into “You’re not going alone” and then “Oh my God okay you’re coming but only because Nat is coming too” and again “Fine, but there will be no blowing up stuff.”

He wasn’t extremely cooperative on that point, either.

In the end, Darcy was persuaded that waiting another day would not kill the poor girl (she had received another two messages from Wanda in the last three hours, so far the situation hadn’t changed… much) and that Natasha’s expertise with Hydra (who was not dead, apparently!) and the Red Zone would be invaluable while planning a rescue.

Rogers and Tony were away from the base and it was best not to bother them, Thor was who knew where and Bruce was best left in the Tower in case they needed a ‘doctor’ of the Avengers variety upon their return.

Natasha was supremely unconcerned with Darcy’s weird request, like being asked to reach a country to storm a base where children were tortured was hardly a Wednesday activity. Considering who the woman was, she was probably right.

They hit the first snag when Clint said the words ‘stealing a jet’ all in the same sentence.

“We’re not stealing a jet,” Darcy said with finality.

The two spies looked at her sideways. “Darcy,” Natasha started slowly, “if you want to keep this op under wraps, not announcing it on paper is the safest idea. We can always make up a story later.” She added reassuringly. Clint was nodding beside her.

“No no no, no one is stealing anything to get to Sokovia. We don’t need to anyways. It’s night.”

Natasha looked at her with sudden understanding. Her eyes widened a fraction and flitted all around her.

“...And just how did you plan to get there?” Clint said challengingly.

“Are you an immortal?” Asked Natasha at the same time.

They looked at each other and there was some kind of silent conversation there, because Clint raised his hands and Natasha started with her questions again.

“Are you immortal?” Darcy nodded. The spy nodded back. “Are you able to guarantee your package complete immunity?”

Darcy thought about her Shield, which was not able to withstand a bullet barrage but was very willing to try, and her Cloak which was indeed able to resist such a thing, but wasn’t willing to leave the trunk at all, and shook her head.

“Okay, we need contingencies for this.”

“Are we going to address how to get there?” Clint asked loudly.

“We’re using the horse, of course.” said Natasha immediately.

“What horse?!”

The horse, as Nat had playfully called it, was at least ten times the size of a quinjet. Who was he kidding, it was probably as big as a mountain.

Wispy and evanescent, the horse of the goddess of dawn was truly a majestic thing.

Unfortunately, Clint had no idea of how to pet it… he was barely as tall as its hooves.

Darcy, or whatever she was called, he supposed, was openly laughing at his awestruck face.

“Don’t worry,” she winked. “He can shrink.” She raised a hand, and the horse became smaller. Still big, for he was as big as an elephant, but definitely more manageable than what he was before.

The horse’s intelligent eyes darted all around, looking for threats. Finding none, he started chewing on the grass (or tried, because evanescent ghost horses could not eat real world grass, apparently).

“How is a horse of this size even going around unnoticed?”

Darcy’s smile dimmed a bit, “no one really believes in us anymore, Clint. We’re myths.”

Oh.

“...Are you going to disappear if this ‘only prayer’ dies?”

Darcy shrugged. “Nah. The universe needs its order. You can’t kill one of us without killing everyone else in the process, and there’s always someone believing in Life or Death, if not in a superior God that is Good versus Evil. It’s an all or nothing kind of thing.” She seemed extremely dismissive of the possible disappearance of her species, but Clint supposed it was fair.

Despite believing there was no God, no one could deny that Death was very much a thing.

“That’s…convenient.”

The goddess flashed him a smile and preened a bit. “We try. We did invent an app to do the job for us, after all!”

She put a hand in the horse’s mane, prompting him to turn his head, and stared into his milky white eyes. “Fly fast, my dearest, sali sali sali.”

The horse neighed loudly, and maybe it was him, but had the wind picked up?

“Come.” Darcy’s voice sounded different, and when had she mounted the horse anyway?

She extended her right hand to Nat and helped her climb up.

“Come, Clint.” She said next.

Well… he’d never been horse riding before.

Flying was always awesome.

Pity she couldn’t do it often, what with being very busy and all.

They were flying as fast as her horse’s magic was carrying them, invisible to anyone under the thick cover of his misty fur. They’d reach Sokovia soon enough, and hopefully before Nene and Bells had reasons to complain (‘they’re the big shots in my line of work, okay? like… ugh. Yeah, the jerks.’).

“Wasn’t the creature following the Sun supposed to be a dog?” Asked Natasha from behind her. “Ah… maybe? Then again, I heard stories of me being married to the Sun, who is my father, and carrying his spawn.” That was the story, right?

“Isn’t it true?”

“Nope.” She popped the p. “The ‘Sun’ is a girl, she’s very much not interested into a relationship with me, she’s got a kid who I’m pretty sure is a vampire… and last I checked I didn’t have kids. I do, however, have the cutest dog called Baker!” she added.

“Huh, you kept that dog from New Mexico.” Clint mumbled from behind.

“Yeah yeah… and hey, look, we’re here!”

“We’ve barely flown for one hour!”

“...Have we? Damn, I’m going to owe the winds my firstborn.”

Ten minutes out, two guards in, two guards out, ten minutes...

Wanda Maximoff was going crazy.

But she couldn’t stop counting for a second, or she’d lose the all important moments once again. Every four hours and thirty two minutes, the guards would switch and make a slightly longer round across the lab, and that was the moment she had to strike.

She pressed her hands together. If only her powers were consistent and controllable in any way.

In the cell beside her, she heard her brother scream as another bout of whatever the Sceptre had done to him attacked him.

Pietro.

She may not be the eldest, but she was done waiting for these madmen to kill them or brainwash them into compliance. She’d save her brother herself.

Seven more seconds and the shift would be over. Six… Five… Four… Three

BOOM.

Strucker’s castle shook with force and everything around her trembled.

The walls behind her creaked in agony and she gripped at the solid bars of the tiny bolt hole she’d used as a window.

The guards had all left shouting in languages she didn’t understand.

Outside of the castle, the huge horse of mist stood proudly in front of List’s and Strucker’s men, mockingly unruffled by the pellets and bullets he was being shot with.

How was it even possible that they could see him so clearly when just three days ago they hadn’t batted an eye at his passage.

The grunts of someone outside her cell had her whirl around. She should have been running already!

But it was a Hydra henchman who was grunting in pain, as the well shaped thighs of a redhead in an expensive tac-suit choked him from behind.

A man with strong arms and a petite woman wielding a shield bigger than her followed suit.

“I said no explosions Clint, it wasn’t hard!” The tiny woman was grouching in English. Wanda’s English wasn’t great, but she could get by. These were not Hydra, she could tell.

“Who are you?” She called in accented English, her hands sparking a bit with her power. If they meant harm, she’d deal with them.

The woman’s head whirled toward her and her face transfigured into an expression of pure joy. “Wanda? Is that you?”

Wanda frowned. “You know me?”

The woman nodded fervently, so fast it looked like her head might detach from her body at any minute. She studied the glass cage in front of her, prowled around it like a lion, then pressed her lips into a thin line, brandished her shield with both of her hands, and just… hit it.

And the glass in front of her broke to bits and she was free.

“Yes!” The woman’s arms embraced her and Wanda couldn’t understand why. “Of course I know you! You sent for me!”

Wanda’s eyes widened, because this woman, she couldn’t possibly be…

“I’m Darcy.” Darcy smiled. “Patron of horses, dawn and protectors. It’s so good to meet my most important -and only- believer.”

Life continued and soon everyone was back to their routine.

Pietro and Wanda had settled in nicely, Clint being a constant presence in their life and probably best moral compass they could find, especially until they managed to fully control their powers.

For her part, Darcy kept her jobs of Avengers-herder and divine powers as she had.

The fact that she now had a couple of faithfuls didn’t really change anything (yeah, she’d hoped in something… more?), apart from the weirdest messages.

“You have one new message!”

Darcy didn’t even look, this time. She swiped her cell phone and pressed on Gate absentmindedly.

The gate was closed.

She frowned and looked at the time. Yeah… it was a bit too soon to start her job. Whoops.

She checked her phone and smiled.

Dinner with us? Pietro is cooking. Wanda

#darcy lewis #darcyland #goddess darcy lewis #fix-it #happy birthday queenie!#wanda needs a hug #clint is awesome

35 notes · View notes

agavebae · 7 years

Photo

Naoise has recommended writing- exploring my thoughts this way. And along with talking with him- I hope it helps ease the burden.

Well- shiny- perfect- crisp clean book. I’m sorry you wound up in my possession. I’m going to try my best to sort out these thoughts. But I am no calligrapher!

Abhalle is getting along as best as he can with Shira- she’s so proud. I’ve seen her show interest in Abhalle! She sometimes even follows him about! It’s as if she thinks I don’t notice. Silly wolf. But I think he’s smitten with her. I suppose a fluffy wolf such as herself is a bit of a rarity in Caledon. Abhalle is such a goof under his leaderly composure.

This is such a warm environment. Abhalle is delightful and so- so friendly! He’s always hanging out with me and giving me study notes- even just being near helps ease the empty silence that has started bothering me. Naoise, too. His quiet company. I didn’t realise how much I enjoyed the silent companionship of others until very recently. I guess that makes sense- given how I’ve spent the majority of my life alone with Shira.

Every day I come to realise how much I need this quiet. That I should have sought out silence from the start. I tried to drown out the noise. I realise now that I can step out of it, remove myself from it. It becomes- peaceful? I feel more at ease- one aspect of my confused person is being healed. The post tram- traumatic stress disorder- what a mouthful- is something I’m still exploring. And it’s hard. It’s so hard. But it’s getting easier.

Naoise says he shares this burden. He spent time in Maguuma too- on the right side however- sometimes I think of the pain I inflicted on those in his care- and it turns my stomach. He helps me. Even if he’s just offering me tea or someone to sit with. He’s always awake. He sees me wake with a start- helps me with some reassuring words. He says I should try to sleep- and I’m getting more comfortable with the idea. I shouldn’t run from sleep. I shouldn’t be so afraid of it.

I wake up sometimes- I swear my hands are covered in blood. They’re not- of course. All nicks and cuts are self inflicted- carving comes with it’s hazards.

Other dreams- less vivid- a different type of pain. They bring me visions of D- Diathys. I don’t want them. I want to purge myself of these dreams. They feel so warm- so bright! I can only cry when I wake from them- I want to stay within them forever. They torture me. Give me a taste of something crushed by my own hands- well. All of my dreams revolve around me inflicting pain. It’s all I’ve been good at lately.

I can’t stand to see him. I gave away my heart- what was left to give- and now there’s only pain. An ache where it once was.

I long for peace. I will build up the barricade around my heart. I have Naoise and Abhalle to protect it now. Shira keeps me from physical pain. Those two help me with the abstract- mental pain I cannot bear alone. I am so grateful.

#Aisling's journal #Sylvari #Guild Wars 2 #Guild wars 2 Roleplay #gw2rp #gw2 #sketch #art

5 notes · View notes

eificopper · 7 years

Text

Autotag #10 – Twinkle Headcanon meme

☾ : Sleep headcanon -Shira really doesn’t like sleeping with other people, she needs space and it can be uncomfortable but most importantly even when asleep her horns can channel other’s people’s feelings and even affect her dreams. -On the other side of the spectrum Eifi very much enjoys sleeping with company, as it makes her feel more secure and loved somehow, she’s also fond of sleeping in her pokémon form all curled up. -Kuro sleeps a lot in intervals during the day but it’s also a light sleeper so his rest is often easily interrupted. He’s somewhat nocturnal so he prefers to sleep during the mornings and though it’s rare he can sometimes snore, Eifi is not really bothered by it (in fact she thinks this is a clear sign he’s sleeping well and therefore it’s good)

☠ : Drinking/drunk headcanon -For whatever reason Shira always ends up crying when drunk. Don’t ask, she doesn’t know either, it just happens. La que no se mide y se manda peas lloronas -Very surprisingly, Eifi seems to never get headaches or hangovers from drinking, she can get really… uhh…horny though, and won’t always remember everything…;; -Kuro hates drinking alone, seriously, he’ll only do it if others (which I guess means Eifi) do too (he also kinda hates smoking alone but what can you do?) he’s never gotten drunk since he doesn’t drink that much actually.

☼ : Childhood headcanon -One of Shira’s favorite pastimes as a kid was climbing trees and cliffs, she never fell and once even beat a grown adult at climbing much to the amazement of other kids (yes, she’s still proud about that, and will gladly tell you the story in full detail) -There is no denying Eifi has always been an indoors espeon but there’s nothing she loved more than to visit the Minamo ports, markets and the beach -Kuro vaguely remembers life with other kids at the Safari zone but more pleasant memories come in the form of sleeping under the warm sun or exploring the wide forest with Soren.

☯ : Genderbent headcanon -Arudo Hanaki is more self-conscious and not as proud of his body as his female counterpart and likes to dress more “formal” and of course more covered than Shira so he was a little more careless about his self-harming. ALSO Shira is a closet pervert but this guy is such an open pervert my god -Elias Akihara absolutely loves Tae-kwon-do, he practices it since he was like 9 and his dream is to represent Hoenn in an international competition and/or start his own school when older. He really admires his sempai Emily. -Kuroko Tensho has a slight kleptomania problem that made up for a rough start between her and Elias when they first met. She’s always hated it because of the anxiety it caused and the troubles it got her in and started taking treatment later in life.

⋆ : Sex headcanon -Shira likes to bite and scratch her partner during sex way more than a skiddo probably should, and certainly won’t complain about being “marked” either. The one time she doesn’t care about keeping a perfect physical appearance. -Eifi is mostly an auditory person and so she’s VERY turned on by sounds because of this, some growling, moaning, panting and dirty talk is sure to get her hot and bothered. Which Kuro learns to exploit eventually. - On top of being demisexual Kuro is very reserved and even easily embarrassed when it comes to this topic. However, a surprisingly more dominant and wild side of him shows during sex (or like when Eifi turns him on which she loves to do//hit) Cuando le da, le da heavy

☮ : Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon -There are so many notebooks in Shira’s room, so many. The majority of them aren’t even halfway filled, she has a really hard time tossing those kind of things out though. -Eifi likes to make “nests” with the bed’s covers and pillows and just curl there. If you mess it up (how can you mess up a mess of blankets? You can) she’ll get very upset. -Kuro loves big windows and open spaces such as a terrace or back/front yards. He’s very picky about his living space in the sense that he doesn’t like densely populated or building packed areas

☄ : Any AU headcanon -Eneco!Shira is somehow more extroverted and notably more affectionate and touchy-feely, she enjoys bothering people by sleeping or sitting to purr on their lap/chest. - There’s an AU where Eifi and Shira did not get along at all for reaons involving lives past and they end up getting in a fight where Shira either kills or nearly kills Eifi. Nada más alejado de la realidad -There’s a certain AU where things between Kuro and Eifi did not quite work out and they remained good friends. He ends up marrying Shira instead; they live happily in Renri and have no kids.

♤ : Cooking headcanon -Shira secretly likes to cook and can sometimes even come up with interesting new recipes (some of which were born during her time at the academia or SO) -Eifi has the habit of sometimes eating stuff raw, including but not limited to: dough, meat, fish, pasta and vegetables, ironically the one thing she refuses to eat uncooked are eggs. -Kuro is the type of person that doesn’t really know how to cook but he follows the recipe and it just… comes out great?? how?

⊕ : Talents/hobbies headcanon -Shira absolutely loves to sing, and she’s loud and shameless about it... -Eifi is amazingly flexible like no you don’t understand her back arches in a way that can and probably will scare others. -Not only does Kuro know how to dance (thank Eifi and later Shira too) but he really really enjoys to do so, it’s just that most people don’t know it since he simply doesn’t mention it.

☻ : Mood headcanon -During elementary Shira had a hard time expressing herself and keeping her current mood stable, as spending even a short amount of time with others in the same room could lead her to channel and mimic the other person’s mood without her even knowing. That said she still somewhat “adapts” to her surroundings when accompanied, but has gotten more emotional independence and stability as she grows. -Even though Eifi’s mood is more or less volatile it can somehow fit surprisingly well with her natural surroundings, that is to say the weather and even beings in the proximity. Even she finds it weird, considering her detectors don’t really work… -An infallible and easy way to tell Kuro’s mood is by paying attention to his tail: if he’s calm or even bored it sways slowly, if he’s happy or pleased it twitches every few seconds, if he’s nervous or otherwise shocked/scared it’ll tense and become stiff, while anger makes him lash it around like a whip.

✚ : health headcanon -Shira very rarely gets sick to be honest, she has high defenses, but when she does oh boy. Bedridden, no joke. Lasting high fevers, lots of vomiting, some passing out… and then feeling bad for making others worry/take care of her. -Eifi regularly takes pills for headaches, muscle pains, vitamins and birth control. At worst, she jokes she’s “constantly on meds” -Kuro immune system is pretty strong, he even got the right genes for it and wildlife just enhanced it all. His wonds can scar easily though.

✿ : happiness headcanon -It’s fairly easy to know when Shira is happy: she’ll be more open, talkative and physical, moving a lot (specially her hands and hooves) and her voice will slightly increase in pitch. -Eifi will get all excited and bubbly, well, more than usual! Her hands will get restless and she’ll laugh more and be all blushy blushy. -Kuro's happiness is practically tied up to his sense of peacefulness and security, if he feels comfortable and safe he’s happy, even if it doesn’t seem like it due to his neutral attitude. His smile is the cutest thing though!

✖ : anger headcanon -When Shira gets pissed it’s common for her to start cursing in kalosian and then she just switches over absolutely oblivious to the fact that the other person (most likely) can’t understand her. There’s also her silent fuming though, where she’ll get snarky and her talking would be cut short and sharp. -Eifi is surprisingly prone to violent tendencies when angry (Though she’d have to seriously be pissed/stressed) these often come out as rabid-like gestures such as hissing, growling and scratching… even in sapimon form. -Kuro’s anger shows off in huffs and growls, he’s hard to annoy and even then it won’t be much: a rolling of eyes, a hiss, and after clearing his mind he’ll be back to business. Watch out though, he’s the protective-rage type so yeap.

♆ : body headcanon -Shira’s tail (like those of all skiddo) is semi-connected to her spine, technically branching off as a steam like her neck leaves, though much sturdier. In general is like a thin branch that CAN break off but if it were to happen it would hurt like hell and not grow back… Also her nails are pretty strong and have a natural orange hue, y’now, keratin like her hooves. -Her feet are a mess and she often tends to them with creams and covers them with bandages and the like so it’s normal to see Eifi walking around home with them. -Part of Kuro’s “hair” is actually his mane, true it’s still hair but it’s thicker and coarser to the touch, pretty difficult to brush or tame (and Eifi has tried…) his actual hair is surprisingly silkier and so damn straight. Has some old scars here and there and (fun fact) one of them was even made by Shira woops.

ϡ : mental state headcanon -Shira’s rivalry ability is surprisingly not unpleasant but rather feels similar to adrenaline with a strong impulse to overcome the specific trigger (fight rather than flight). However it can cause unstable levels of anxiety, depression and aggression if activated too often or for long periods of time, which is exactly why Shira eventually got prescribed suppressants. -After the events in Enju city Eifi's mental state quickly deteriorated and she accidentally started developing and behaving with a sort of dual personality thanks to her Dreamweaving, it got really bad for a little over a year, until her depression mellowed down. That said she still has episodes from time to time but has to learn to cope with it. -Kuro has mild insomnia, which frustrates him a lot since it totally messes up his sleeping schedule and more often than not he can’t really rest well, along with a bunch other factors and consequences. He uses medicinal sleep powder for it sometimes.

ღ : love or sexuality headcanon -Shira is deathly afraid of divorce (this is why she has troubles with relationship commitment) be it for her parent’s almost one, her family and friend’s complains and overall negativity surrounding it, or because she had to “agree” with her partner it was better to go separate ways despite still liking them twice. It’s rooted deep down on her fear of being alone. -Eifi is in general a very touchy and cuddly person who craves some company and affection, and her love lies just as much in soft touches, tight hugs and kind words as in sex and make out-sessions themselves. -Kuro’s not very big on direct lip kisses, he really likes forehead and cheek kisses and thinks they resonate a deeper, more intimate connection. He’d often kiss Eifi on the hand or fingers and Shira on her neck and shoulders.

† : religion headcanon -Shira is really big on celebrating Winter-wrap up and épanouissement, has always felt somewhat connected to her patron Xerneas and thus prays and swears on his name. That’s not to say she doesn’t hold some high respect for Yveltal and Zygarde too though. -Since she was little Eifi has always followed the ritual of giving offerings to Kyogre in special dates, she considers it a great honor and giving her kindness and thanks to her patron deity. -Kuro never adopts a certain religion strictly speaking, but (as the majority of things in his life) he ends warming up to a mix of Kalos and Hoenn beliefs.

✄ : nervous habits headcanon -Quite obvious but Shira shuffles A LOT on her hooves when nervous or anxious, she also does this gesture where she shakes her hands but that’s when she’s trying to avoid her hemophobia acting up. -Sometimes when really upset Eifi drags her nails against her own skin (thighs/shoulders) just to leave the red marks and feel the sting, as strange as it sounds she just likes it and uses it to “let out some steam” -Funnily enough Kuro tends to actually talk more when anxious but will get restless and spend mad amounts of time climbing places and honing his claws.

#autotag #aaaaaaaa I loved this one so muuuch #bless #got to hint at and explain things here and there #and tried to put in words some other things (such as shira's tail and eifi's dreamweaving)#some of these are so real and important and I love them #twinkle

0 notes

drjerilyn · 7 years

Text

Midrash Musings: A Holy Week Mystery-Where Shira Got Her Cross

A Holy Week Mystery-Where Shira Got Her Cross

A Reading from Matthew 21: 1-11 (NAB: http://www.usccb.org/bible/matthew/21)

The Entry into Jerusalem.*1a When they drew near Jerusalem and came to Bethphage* on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples,2saying to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately you will find an ass tethered, and a colt with her.* Untie them and bring them here to me.3And if anyone should say anything to you, reply, ‘The master has need of them.’ Then he will send them at once.”4* This happened so that what had been spoken through the prophet might be fulfilled:

5b “Say to daughter Zion, ‘Behold, your king comes to you, meek and riding on an ass, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.’”

6The disciples went and did as Jesus had ordered them.7* They brought the ass and the colt and laid their cloaks over them, and he sat upon them.8* c The very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and strewed them on the road.9d The crowds preceding him and those following kept crying out and saying:

“Hosanna* to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; hosanna in the highest.” 10And when he entered Jerusalem the whole city was shaken* and asked, “Who is this?”11And the crowds replied, “This is Jesus the prophet,* from Nazareth in Galilee

Background for midrash:

“…. The Nubian burro has a cross on its back because it was said … that these donkeys carried Jesus to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.

To ride on a donkey signified coming in peace. This symbolic event served to reinforce what Jesus had told the people of Israel: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee: he [is] just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon a donkey, and upon a colt the foal of a donkey.”(Zachariah 9:9 KJV)

Many Christians believe that the donkey had known what Jesus was about to go through with his trial and suffering. They say that seeing the tragic event of Jesus’ crucifixion, the donkey wished [s]he had been able to carry the cross for Jesus, as[s]he was the one who should carry such burdens. The donkey turned [her] back on the sight, but [s]he could not leave Jesus whom [s]he had carried…..

In reward for the loyal and humble love of the donkey the Lord caused the shadow of the cross to fall across [her] back and the donkey has carried the cross ever since as a sign [of] the love of God….Each Christian Donkey carries a cross on its back that is unlike all the others. There are no two alike[;] each Donkey is defined by the cross they bear on their back. Many of these donkeys are called Jerusalem Donkeys, Christian Donkeys, Jesus Donkeys, Miniature Donkeys or even Mediterranean Donkeys because in the Middle East these burros are used in everyday life… [for]farming or traveling purposes.

…Also contrary to popular belief the Christian Donkeys are VERY smart, love attention, GREAT moms, [and] are protective of their family…[They] have an internal barometer to let them know if bad weather is approaching so they can seek shelter. …”

Taken From: http://www.mdresort.com/legend-christian-donkey/

Here begins “the rest of the story” for there is more to know about Shira, the donkey that carried Jesus into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, and the gift she was given:

Shira did not always have the mark of the cross on her back. She was born in a small village out just outside of Jerusalem on one spring morning during lambing season. She became an orphan soon after birth as her mother had been attacked by a marauding pack of wolves that had been terrorizing the surrounding villages. Shira was taken in and nurtured by a goat named Myriam, the matriarch of the goat herd, who had, herself, just given birth to a son. They made a strange sight, Myriam, her son, and Shira. The farmer Ezra was amazed that Myriam would take on such a strange-looking child, but was glad that she did, for another beast of burden would be a great help to him to bring his vegetables to the Jerusalem market. Shira seemed to fit right in with the rest of the goat herd and became important to them because her natural protective instincts that were constantly being tested.

Shira grew became even more protective of her adopted family, treating the lambs as her own children, though she had given birth to a colt just a few weeks before. During this particular spring, she even foiled an attempt by a lone wolf to carry off a small lamb who had wandered into the field, far away from its mother. Shira saw the lamb wander off and followed it before it was snatched by a large lone wolf. She was able to kick at the wolf and scare it away from the youngster, eventually shooing the youngster back to her mother with a disgruntled head butt action, braying all the way back to the safety of the herd.

It was right before Passover on the first day of the week, when Ezra went into Jerusalem to deliver his fresh vegetables to Adonijah the baker. He had just taken off Shira’s saddle blanket and disappeared into Adonijah’s shop, when a pair of the disciples of Jesus of Nazareth came looking for Shira and her colt. The merchants who were milling about in the street gave their approval for Shira and the colt to be led away, so the disciples led Shira and the colt out to Jesus who sat on her back triumphantly riding into the city.

Ezra had heard of Jesus of Nazareth and even heard him preach. So when he had concluded his business with Adonijah and saw that Shira and the colt were not where he had left them, he asked another merchant, Josiah, what had happened. Josiah told Ezra that two men had led them away as Jesus needed them. Since Ezra knew of the young rabbi, he was not angry but very proud that his Shira had been taken for such a noble task.

“Ezra!” shouted Adonijah as he leaned out of a second-story window. “Ezra, I will need more vegetables by Friday. Can you deliver them to me on Friday?”

“Certainly,” shouted Ezra back to Adonijah who continued leaning farther out of the window to hear Ezra’s response over the din in the street. “I will be here in the afternoon. Will that be convenient for you?”

“That will be fine,” replied Adonijah. “Shalom my good friend. See you on Friday.”

By that time, the disciples, who had taken Shira and the colt, returned them to Ezra who was just getting ready to pack up his belongings to return home.

The following Friday, Ezra had Shira and the colt ready to return to Jerusalem. Even though it was going to be a warm, spring day, Ezra used a heavier than normal blanket under the baskets slung on either side of Shira. He had a good selection of melons, leeks, garlic and even brought several wine skins of new wine for his old friend Adonijah, hoping to be given some of his wonderful bread to take with him. Though the sky was a brilliant blue, it smelled like rain was coming. Ezra said a silent prayer that, if the rain caught them in the open, his donkey and her colt, who did not like rain, would be able seek shelter.

It was deathly quiet when then entered Jerusalem, as if everyone had left the city. A man scurrying by told them that everyone was at the trial of the young rabbi from Nazareth. Ezra and his donkeys followed the man as closely as they could and happened onto an elevated street. There they caught a glimpse of the condemned man, Jesus, being driven like a beast of burden up very steep steps. Ezra could not believe his eyes. He asked a man about Jesus and what crime he had committed. The bystander said that he did not know anything about Jesus but understood that the Governor released Jesus Barabbas to the crowd in honor of Passover. The crowd had condemned Jesus of Nazareth and Pilate gave the order for him to be crucified. He was carrying his cross to the place of crucifixion outside the city.

Ezra determined to learn more for he knew the place of execution. With Shira and the colt in tow, he joined the crowds who were gathering to watch the spectacle. He found a place to ground-tether Shira and began to ask questions of the people milling around. When he returned to his donkeys, he noticed that both had turned around and faced away from the crosses, the shadow from cross of Jesus falling across the back of Shira and the back of the colt. As the hour was getting late, and Ezra was very upset by the injustice, feeling so powerless to help the young rabbi, he headed down the hill of execution and turned toward home.

It somehow seemed to take longer to get home, though he had left after Jesus had been crucified. Ezra walked along with a heavy heart. Though he did not know Jesus but he had heard him speak, he had wanted to learn more about the vision of love the young rabbi presented. Jesus touched his heart and Ezra remembered that gentleness, as a tear fell from his eye, brought there by the sadness he felt over the death of this innocent man.

A sudden cloudiness, very dark and ominous, blanketed the sky and Shira was anxious to reach cover in the small cave she spied just ahead. She almost pulled Ezra off his feet and she clopped into the cave, just as thunder and lightning erupted over her and her colt. Ezra was grateful that she had moved so quickly to save them all from getting drenched in the downpour that, fortunately, only lasted a few minutes.

The rest of the trip was uneventful except for one thing. When Ezra arrived home, he took care of his donkeys before he did anything else. He removed the baskets and the blanket, amazed to find a cross of dark hair that covered the shoulders and back of Shira, and the colt. It seemed that Shira had received a remembrance of Jesus, a dark cross drawn on her shoulders. Ezra then realized why Shira and the colt had turned their backs to the suffering Jesus. It was as if they should have carried Jesus’ cross and not the Master. It was as if Shira, who had carried Jesus on Palm Sunday in triumph into Jerusalem, needed to turn her back on the evil she saw in his crucifixion.

So we now know where Shira got her distinctive marking. We have not only solved the mystery of where Shira got her cross, but also we see that this remembrance is passed on to the offspring of Jerusalem/Jesus donkeys who bear the same mark, for the blessing continues.

So, let us take from this story: that we never know how our good deeds might have long lasting consequences. We plant the seeds and God brings the flowers to bloom.

0 notes

thewhumpstuff · 4 years

Text

You and I, Me and You [30]

[This part follows Jared and Akira the morning after Apologies. And it happens partially parallelly to Eyeronies and Will You Rescue Me]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (Lost and Found: Chapter 5)

[<-- Previous] ~ [Next -->]

Try, Try Again.

For the first time in forever, Jared slept well. He let his mind forget. He willed the demons away. The sheer exhaustion had taken its toll and that was as much a mercy as it was contagious. Because, miraculously, Akira slept well too. Between covers that were tugged, covers that were stolen… Covers that wrapped up all the trauma and gave them the option of tucking them away. At least temporarily. Because most importantly these covers were shared. It felt like centuries had passed since they last succumbed to the warmth of that. He woke up at o-three-hundred hours, like clockwork. And that almost felt better than the much craved and needed sleep. Jared liked the safety of a routine. Akira liked the safety of a bed. She vaguely recalled him kissing her forehead as he went for a morning? (It felt more like midnight) jog. She had eagerly pressed herself against him then. Naturally, he offered another when he returned. The sleepy vixen winced, recoiled and pulled the covers over her head this time with an annoyed mewl to follow. Jared rolled his eyes.

Following a shower, he brazenly threw open the curtains. Despite the assault of the sun, Akira stubbornly slept through the early morn. She had begun that restless stirring that let him know she was awake enough, but simply refusing to get out of bed. In the recesses of her mind she didn’t want to acknowledge the day. Bed was comfy. Bed was good. The clatter of the Mu ren zhuang was bound to wake Shira. He wore a delinquent grin as he stretched. He was right, sort of. The clatter did not wake her as a disturbance, but as a promise. She squinted her eyes open to look at him. To watch him. There was a draw to the nostalgic familiarity of watching Jared work out. It wasn’t just about the way his body moved or the way he perfectly balanced a certain fluidity, with the rigidity of precision. It was the focus, the sharp reminder of the biggest thing that set him apart from her. His discipline. She sighed, audibly and testily. He knew he had found success, though he did not know exactly why. Regardless, his grin widened, but he didn’t break his focus. His eyes remained on his imaginary opponent as he continued to weave his arms between the swiftly moving wooden spokes. She’d asked for the Mu ren zhuang to be installed in her room, but did not use it as often as she should have. This was good use. And suddenly she was met with an urge to try. She slid out of the bed, freshened up with an urgency and within moments had sidled between Jared and the wooden spar tool. He cautiously directed her. Her smile dangerously faltered when she realised just how out of practice she was. “Shira… It’s okay…” She frowned. The words returned; they could not stay hidden in blankets forever. ‘Failure.’ “Shira. Listen to me. It is okay. Things don’t just happen, they need time...” She closed her eyes, her hand clawed at her arm through her nightwear. But she caught herself and took a deep breath. He was not going to molly-coddle her. Yes, she had failed, but that didn’t make her a failure. “We try try till we succeed right…” He avoided using the word failure. And yet, Akira was perceptive enough to recognize its absence. Perhaps, it did not leave her thoughts as readily. Whatever it was, it left her irked. She nodded curtly and slunk away from him. From warmth and from support. This was her battle and hers alone. She did not need help and she did not need anyone walking on eggshells around her either. “It’s fine… I’ll be fine.” She retorted softly and believed she would be too. After all, last night had not been the first time such thoughts permeated her being. It was just more intense than usual. That is all it was. You are fine. You… can do this. She lied to herself, tried to convince herself that she would simply wake up a success. Jared was not wrong, she would have to work at it. Try things. And risk failing… again. That was a simple probability. And yet it crippled her.

He wrapped himself around her and decided not to say anything. She didn’t push him away this time. But the silence hung thickly, and she felt like challenging it. “Say something…” “What do you want me to say?” She knew he would say that. She clicked her tongue and shrugged out of his embrace churlishly. A bottle of BuzzBo was opened. It was the fruity variety and it was her last one. She had saved her preferred flavour to carry along with her for her mission—the one that had landed her in Jared’s unwelcome and waiting arms. We were both been played. Given everything else that transpired after, she did not hold too many grudges against him. Though a lot of her memories felt fuzzy enough to make it easier to grant that forgiveness, in the now. “Red, what did Cepheus say, exactly?” Jared wasn’t sure if discussing such matters with her was prudent. Akira did not take his hesitance too well. “Jared?” At least, there was a general safety in the assumption that no one was going to bother them today. Hopefully, they would have the time to untangle some things. Maybe the mistake he made was sheltering her too much. Maybe he ought to have more faith. “He wanted me to replace Ezekiel as SiC.” She narrowed her eyes between the gulp of her drink and offered it to him. Her demeanour around the news was more casual than either of them had anticipated. Her surprise did not last. It did sound like a sensible political offer. “That’s not bad, right? Are Scar-and-Mark going to just find out when they do? Or do you get to talk to them?” Jared had not quite heard her refer to the SpecSyn leaders that way before, nor the abrasive quality of her tone when talking about them. “Did they contact you without my knowledge or something? Did something happen? Is that why you…” He still couldn’t bring himself to associate her with words like ‘turncoat’. She could, though she did not think of herself as a traitor. “Defected?” she almost sounded proud. “No, they never contacted me. And I did not really betray SpecSyn. I simply… stopped trading in information and took up a new post, I suppose. Like you could...” She still skittered around her reasons. To him it felt like she was pushing him to make a similar choice, so she could justify her own within that. This did peeve Jared. “It’s not that simple.” He did not mean to sound as stand-offish as he did. He bit back the need to tell her that SpecSyn put her here. That this post was a part of her mission. That she did not earn her spot. But he could see that not going down well. She cocked an eyebrow acutely aware of the silence he chose, yet again. But she shrugged, leaving half the bottle of her beverage on the table for him before settling onto her beanbag. She fiddled with the CommCube, her eyes glassing over slightly as she focused on the documents displayed by her SmartEye. Mostly, she focused on those relating to her poorly applied neuromodulation techniques. The one’s Eze had probably tried to use on her and Tariq. What… went wrong? Pangs of dissatisfaction lined her face, as she flicked through several other unfinished theories she had penned. Projects started and dropped, for one reason or another. Some in their early phases and some close to completion. But she had just not made it. Alcyone had considered cutting her from the program and warned her accordingly. It is what had compelled Akira to accept the solo scouting mission and they had made it sound simple enough. Too simple. She should have seen the signs and figured that it was designed to bait Jared. Now he was here. And maybe things worked out in the end? She dared to hope. He kept a wary eye on her, but from a distance. The peace that had rested on her face when she slept was replaced so thoroughly in a matter of hours. Half a bottle of BuzzBo isn’t lunch. He thought absently and noisily scoured the shelves for something. “There is nothing there. You don’t stock up before you go on a mission, do you?” She snapped. Neither of them had much of an appetite anyway. The ghost of everything that happened, sat between them, hand in hand with the words left unsaid. He stilled and sat down in front of the small dining table and busied himself with his own encrypted and haphazard notes. Designs for spyware that incorporated cutting-edge scientific phenomenon, things he had worked on for SpecSyn. A few hours passed and they both continued to mechanically pretend like they were busy, while embroiled in the dusky waters of the past, their parts and their choices. He wanted to ask her what she was working on. Perhaps he should have, instead of what he did end up asking. On some level, he thought honestly clearing the air between them would help. He did still want her reasons. “Why did you do it then?” She knew he was still referring to her defecting, again. She huffed. “Because-” She wasn’t sure how to best approach the knowledge she had gleaned about Jared’s past. The little that had been enough to make her reconsider her loyalties. “-Well, you know I know, right? Like… Scar-and-Mark basically conditioned you. And probably others like you, who in so many ways, never had a choice… In-” He cleared his throat. She had been looking for an excuse to interrupt the words that raced out of her mouth like eager children and was glad he provided one. Jared measured his words before talking. They both felt like they were walking around landmines. “We all had choices. They did what they had to, I did what I had to and that is how we got here.” How long was he going to lie to himself like that? How long was he going to defend them? Akira actively rearranged herself to face him now. “You are not the only reason we got here.” She didn’t really mean for it to sound as personal as it did. But it would take little digging to understand the texture of resentment. “I never said I was the onl-.” He started hotly, and immediately recognized this was not heading in a great direction. But she was on a roll and spoke over him already. “Besides, is getting here enough to defend what they did then? What about all the others who did not become Jareds? Who did not end up becoming heroes? Who were simply thrown into bad circumstances? Thrown at people like Nikolai.” Is that what she thinks happened? That I was simply groomed to be Niko’s- Did it? The doubt left a searing gash through his own clarity around the matter. He did not like the uncertainty that cropped. Akira could see it, she could see something. Even just that doubt and acknowledgement left her feeling vindicated on some level. “That’s… That’s not exactly it.” There it was again, his goddamn denial. She groaned, before contesting, “No? Then tell me how it was.” He sighed. And he still could not bring himself to. The idea of revisiting his murky past that involved the brother of the guy who threatened to publicly execute her, was simply dreadful. It almost made him wish to have had the chance to really take the bullet in her stead. In that moment any way. “We barely had lunch; we can’t also skip dinner… I’ll go get something from the cafeteria.” He was already up and moving. “I’m not hungry… How long are you going to avoid it, Red! Jared?!” She was forced to call out after him. He was already gone. The door closed behind him with a soft click. She sat deflated, sinking deeper into the beanbag. Akira used the time he stole for himself, to try and formulate her arguments and questions. If they were really going to clear the air, he too, would need to be straight with her. Uncomfortably so if need be. Little did she know, he was going to be gone for a lot longer than either of them expected.

[Category - 3]

[Tags: @quirkykayleetam, @lettuceknighted]

#relationships are hard #try try again #emotional whump #feeling like a failure #oc Jared #oc Akira #you and I me and you

1 note · View note

thewhumpstuff · 4 years

Text

You and I, Me and You [35]

[CW: Vague references to human trafficking]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (Lost and Found: Chapter 10)

Routine.

[<– Previous] ~ [Next –>] Akira resolutely busied herself with some attempts to find something she could write her thesis on, that did not have blatant, potentially harmful uses. Memory scan… nope… modification… even more nope. Emotional read… manipulation nope. She sensed that her urge to know everything and conveniently change some things about people, were reflected keenly in the theories around her neuromodulation. Things like that did make desensitizing combatants easier, but also left them vulnerable to being controlled. A lot of people rightly feared the loss of autonomy. Any successful techniques in that regard could be revolutionary, a part of her ached for the kind of glory, but she feared the misuse too much. Idiots like Ezekiel managed to turn the incomplete Advanced-Shealing-Serum into a damn nightmare… They’ll ruin the world with things like this in a heartbeat.

Zizi’s presence quiet was a constant distraction. A prickly sensation rose on her skin every time she heard the wheels move, approach or fade. Zizi was far more self-sufficient than Akira had imagined, they stayed out of each other’s way, but she felt watched. The more she tried to focus, the more she could not. Nova’s return was a welcome distraction. Just as Akira thought, Tariq accompanied her and no Jared followed. They pointedly did not discuss the contents of the meeting given Zizi’s presence and for a selfish moment Akira resented that. She tried not to dwell on it. They all settled around the dinner table. Zizi easily adjusted the height of her chair to join in. Nova disappeared into the bathroom to freshen up. “I’m ready to take you down, T…” Akira challenged, aching for a distraction. “Tomorrow? I won’t be much of a challenge today, I have to-” “Is it the hand?” Zizi interrupted. Akira cocked with her own question. Tariq held out his hands. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, Zizi. like I said… nothing.” He forgot that Zizi was intimately familiar with exactly how his battered state was now… fine. He had used the advanced shealing serum and they knew. Zizi reached for the hand she had broken; she took it into hers for inspection with a certain authority. “That must’ve hurt…” Tariq’s smirk just widened, and he shrugged. “It did, but I could take it...” He sounded proud. Akira noticed Zizi take Tariq’s hand into hers. Something felt private and Akira felt the urge to vanish. She traced idle circles on the table with her fingers. From the corner of her eyes she saw the tender flutter of Zizi’s fingers over Tariq’s. As someone who did not share skin too readily, she always attributed more intimacy to gestures like these. He let Zizi confirm that he was in fact, fine. “In all seriousness, I think the serum works better now.” He had enough faith in Nova’s brilliance to assume that. Given the iterative process of correction, it probably did not hurt as badly as it had once hurt Zizi. He knew Nova had made some more improvements and changes to it after the nights that followed the whipping. Tariq hoped his jovial nature did not come across as something that justified Zizi’s suffering, or glorified it. He just wanted her to know it was not meaningless and good had come of it. Though she certainly deserved better.“You really are crazy, but at least I won’t feel bad the next time I beat you.” Zizi challenged, offering a smirk of her own. Tariq watched Zizi keenly and carefully. He did not accept or deny the proposed contest, but their eyes remained locked. He called out to Nova with a question and winked. “When are Zizi’s prosthetics arriving?” “Should be within the week… Had to shuffle some paperwork around…” Nova continued explaining the details of how the prosthetics were being procured, they went largely unheard. Akira decided to interrupt, driven by some unidentified embarrassment, “What exactly happened?” Tariq and Zizi relayed what happened in Ezekiel’s hidden room, filling in for one another. Zizi sounded grateful and sheepish, Tariq continued to sound proud. “Oh…! Yeah, he could probably take it… I’ve definitely done worse.” He’s had worse done to him because of me… and he’s done worse to Jared… Tariq’s chuckle filled the space that Akira’s dismissive laughter left, when it died abruptly. He nodded with a playful sincerity. “That is true. That is true. I took all that well too…” Akira smacked his shoulder. “Stop being a goddamn show off.” “Dinner?” Novara offered, she was towel drying her platinum curls and already in her jumper and pyjamas. “Not if you’re cooking…” Akira teased. “Oh no, I won’t put you guys through that, I’m just defrosting a premade meal…” Nova reassured with a sheepish grin. “So why exactly aren’t you up to the challenge, T?” Akira had not forgotten that Tariq had turned her down. “Because, I’ll have to leave soon… Got to meet Osi at Ear-Splitting Eagle for some work.” It was understood that Tariq was visiting the local bartender at the friendly-shady neighbourhood shack, because it had something to do with digging into the Zizi’s situation. Akira prudently did not press for details though she wanted to. There was some idle chatter that followed. It strayed away from the suffering that had cast dark shadows over the recent weeks. And it was engaging enough for Nova to forget about the meal and burn it. “Let me whip something up for all of us…” Tariq offered and everybody in the room, winced at the way Tariq phrased that. Including Zizi, though she was surprised when the other did too. She imagined asking them about it at a later date, though it felt too intrusive to just bring up on a dinner table, despite their comfort around it. Tariq chortled first, Akira joined in and Nova followed with a nervous giggle. Soon they were all in splits, laughing with abandon, till they forgot why it was they were so happy. Laughter was a sound Zizi missed. She had no idea what their joke was, but she felt the joy was contagious. A smile stretched her lips. Zizi found their friendship endearing. It felt comfortable and she felt honoured, because they didn’t let her feel like an outsider either. She was not one of them… and she surprised herself by wanting to be. - Nova was not sleepy, she loaded the dishwasher, Tariq had rinsed all the plates before leaving for the shady neighbourhood bar. She then strolled into the master bedroom, with Zizi riding the wheelchair dangerously close to heels. Novara stretched and adjusted the bed feeling rather bright. “I slept through the day, but you must be tired…” “Can I ask you something?” Zizi’s voice was uncertain. Nova had largely avoided any topics that she deemed uncomfortable for Zizi. “Hmm?” “Did it help? The… experiments, did they help?” Zizi thought of what Tariq implied earlier today. Nova didn’t expect this question, but she also felt it was something that Zizi did deserve an answer to. “Yes… But… If I could go back in time, I would rather…” “Do not worry, I know. Tell me more about it…?” Nova’s smile was sad, Zizi’s wasn’t as she comforted and in the same breath, brazenly asked for details “You sure?” “Mhmm. I love a good story before bed…” Zizi puffed her pillow and lay on her side, facing Nova. Her hand reached out towards the medic. “Me too!” Nova chimed, without thinking. She loved the idea of a story before bed, no one had read her any growing up. That stood true for them both. “Tell me then.” Zizi fingers walked closer to Nova’s, till they met again. Zizi patted the hand to emphasize her insistence. Nova’s eyes flashed with a certain pride and then were dulled with hesitance, she worked past it. She was eager to share the scientific details. Sharing them with Ezekiel had been a mistake. Sharing them with Zizi felt like a remedy. “Of course!” Novara crooned about skin-cells and pathways… accelerating processes. About growth and helping the body heal, even though the suffering…The workings of the serum reflected Zizi’s life. She had suffered… And she had come out more healed than broken in some ways… - The sheets felt a little slept in, like the heavy conversations had woven themselves into the fabric. Just two nights, and the bedding had heard too much. Jared felt strange lying in Akira’s bed alone. They had only had a single night together, but that was enough for Jared and Akira to establish their sides. So, he slept on his side, and turned to look at hers. His hand fell across the emptiness. For the first time today, he felt that strange pining. This was difficult for him too, more than he expected.

To Shira: Thank you!

He sent her a message. Between the meeting regarding Zizi’s situation and debriefing about his duties as SiC, Jared did want some space and he wanted to give her some too. He had not paid her a visit today, resigning himself to solitude. Maybe it was selfish. Having spent the evening sifting through people from his past did force him to face the truth of Akira’s words even more categorically than before. But that did not mean he was ready to talk about it. How could he burden someone else with the demons he had not fought? He just hoped that Akira could find a similar measure of purpose and drive around the rescued woman as he had. As painful as it was, she deserved a chance at a new life. A better life. Akira had always shown a keen interest in the mind and healing it, Zizi’s psyche could certainly use some soothing. Jared believed that she would step up. He did have faith in her. - Insomnia was an all-consuming villain. She had slipped into the privacy of her new room immediately after dinner with Nova and Zizi. She tried to dedicate time to reading the material for the screening test. Her drive to obtain the BioHacker license, unfortunately did not stem from pure passion, but from the urge to finish and join the others. So, she too could be part of teams… Get a suite with a hot tub… So she too could have a purpose. That did hamper progress though. She wished she could simply make this her true calling. She felt the familiar tug from the void, beckoning her to take a long hard look at the mirror and accept her worthlessness. To accept that she would not make it. No. Stop it. The text from Jared made her heart flutter and provided enough momentary distraction to avoid the draw from the darkness inside. Just a ‘thank you’? She rolled her eyes; she wanted more, she needed more.

To Red: What for? ...Can we meet? I’ll just sneak out.

She rolled on her side and wedged a pillow between her knees, absently reading through the introductory document regarding paediatrics. Her gaze flicked through the list of diseases that children are susceptible to and those that were rarer and had been eradicated in most Sectors. She went over them again, distractedly, trying to memorise, but her attention darted to the notification sidebar, often. Too often. He took longer to respond than she anticipated.

Red: Stay with Nova and Zizi, they might need you. I’ve had a long day.

And she did not like it. Maybe he is right though… Again, she was not sure, if he was in some way, trying to let her feel involved, or if she was really doing something of value to help. She thought they all had made progress with Zizi, but she put no real effort in it.

To Red: Okay… Can we make time tomorrow though?

She continued reading her documents and stifled a yawn. Maybe I should make some coffee… It was naive of her to assume Jared would have the strength to continue this conversation. Because he did not. She never got a reply and she waited longer than she should have. Longer than she wanted to. What cruel fate, that just as she gave up and finally succumbed to slumber, she missed the notification that pinged at just past three in the morning.

Red: Yes… I’ll try. I love you.

Later that morning, she stirred at the gentle insistence of Nova. “Aki… Aki…” As usual, Akira had slept into the late hours of the morning. Bleary eyed, she looked at Nova, who was dressed so simply… No make-up, no choker, it was a welcome change from all the fancy things Eze forced her into. Her white coat was pristine though and she looked radiant. “I’m leaving, wake up please… Just to keep an eye on Zizi?” Akira muffled her protests. Nova made this feel very necessary, so she did get out of bed. From a distance, the medic ensured that Akira was up and running and would not succumb to the warmth of the bed again, before she left. Akira read Jared’s message and could not fathom why he had to try… She didn’t think she was asking for too much but reading what a part of her needed to hear, softened Akira. We love each other, that’s what matters.

To Red: Ok… Love you too. :*

A kissy face. She feigned being more ok with this than she was because she had to. Akira did admire him for being able to put things aside when he needed to, in favour of a mission after all. It just sucks being one of those things… It had never quite happened before. When Jared was a mentor at SpecSyn, he still had a lot more time at hand. Scarlett and Mark had not actively let him get involved in missions. Till he too… Went off the books, hooked by the bait thrown for him. He did break the rules for me… In his own way… When it did matter. She prepared some breakfast.The day stretched on in a silent monotony. Zizi moved around, Akira attributed it to the side-effect of being cooped up too long. But they both kept to themselves. Evening meant dinner with Tariq and Novara, their meeting had run late, so Akira did not push for a sparring session today either. Jared didn’t show up again. Tariq seemed sprightly that evening in a way he had not for a while. Akira noticed and made a mental note to inquire when an opportunity presented itself. “I guess we can all keep in touch through the day.” Nova said as she offered Zizi her own set of CommCube and SmartEye set. There had been a few upgrades since the pair that Zizi had used last, but it did not take her too long to fathom the updated features. The prosthetics were still on their way and would take a couple of days more. Nova could only hope that the CommCube gave her enough entertainment now that she had access to The Network. It certainly did take the edge of Zizi’s restlessness and by extension, Akira’s. The assimilated squad fell into a routine. - Sunrises and sunsets blurred outside the large window. For the most part, Akira and Zizi busied themselves with something on their CommCubes, staring away at the internally projected screens. Lost in the throngs of words. Akira furiously typed notes. Zizi furiously typed… something. It piqued Akira’s interest enough to ask. “What are you writing?” “I used to be a journalist, so… I’m just collating information, I guess…” Akira wanted to know more but did not want to pry and risk Novara’s wrath… yet. - Nova took mornings off sometimes so that Jared and Akira could steal some time together, but their conversations were wooden. With time that felt so borrowed, they tried to steer away from approaching topics that may leave their minutes and hours together, blemished. But as per usual, their success rate was limited. “What do you mean you won’t involve Ezekiel?!” Akira sounded pissed off. She admired him for doing whatever it took and he chose this moment to do things in such a winded way? “What I said… We can’t remain objective with him…” Jared expected Akira’s admiration. “Who cares? He has it coming! It seriously sounds like you’re deliberately making this harder.” And there it was. His chosen silence. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove and to whom.” To myself, Shira. I am not like the people who made me… what I am- what I was! I’m not going to be that person any more. His thoughts remained so; he didn’t get a chance to tell her. They had five minutes to spare before his next meeting. She walked away from him, with a pointed glance at her analogue watch. Not like we can talk this over in five minutes. They did not meet for the next few days.

Tags: @lettuceknighted, @quirkykayleetam

#navigating relationships #Plot focused #slow burn #rescue #recovery #you and i me and you

0 notes