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melzula · 4 years

Text

The Throne

part one

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: so excited to finally be getting into the Koa storyline with you guys! I hope you enjoy ♡

summary: though a party is held in her honor, the Princess doesn’t feel welcomed home just yet. but will the help of some old friends bring her one step closer to taking back the throne from the scheming Koa?

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

Your crown weighs heavily upon your head as you walk through the palace hallways, chin held high but shoulders tense as you pass by the guards and officials who look at you with silent judgement in their eyes. None of the faces are familiar as all of the men you’d known growing up had been sent off to war and killed in battle. The new recruits now in charge of protecting the royal family all had been assigned by Koa, and you’d have to be blind—sorry, Toph— to ignore the malice and resentment in their hard set gazes as they watched the girl undeserving of her title waltz by as if she hadn’t abandoned her people for the enemy. Koa had made it adamantly clear that the so-called Princess cared not for her tribe but rather her own selfish wants and desires, and they believed him.

Outside the palace servants and cooks and decorators all scramble by in preparation for the party being held in your honor; your mother had insisted on a welcoming party to celebrate your return, though you doubted many people shared her sentiment. There were a handful of members from the tribe who were so glad to have you back, who showered you in warmth and thanked you for aiding the Avatar in ending the war so that their husbands and fathers could return safely, and little girls who shyly tugged at the skirts of your dresses and expressed their admiration for you and their desire to one day be a strong, fierce fighter like you. But there were also those who overlooked your accomplishments in order to focus upon your faults and your mistakes, who agreed that you were not ready to take control of the throne and some who even went as far as to say you were undeserving of it, that a water bending princess who strayed from healing and trained in fighting was untraditional. And of course, there was the group of indifference who needed extra persuasion to decide whether they were for or against you. Overall, the party didn’t seem like the best idea, but your mother was adamant that you use the opportunity to reconnect with your people, so you obliged. You’d survived a strike from a crazed Azula, so surely you could handle this.

“Princess,” one of the servants calls, bowing before you in respect before handing you a neatly tied scroll, “a messenger hawk from the Fire Nation was sent for you with this scroll.”

“Thank you,” you nod, containing your smile as you politely dismiss her before opening the scroll to be greeted by familiar handwriting.

“Princess,

I know it’s only been a week since you’ve left but I already miss you greatly. It’s odd not having you by my side, but I know you’re doing great things back in the south. I hope to see you soon once I have all of my affairs in order, though that could be some time. Until then, expect a messenger hawk at least once a week. Take care, y/n. I love you.

- Zuko”

“Oh, Zuko,” you sigh softly, clutching the letter to your chest in a form of comfort, “I really wish you were here right now.”

It was definitely going to be a long night.

~~~

The steady beat of the drums reverberate through the walls and pound in your chest as you anxiously adjust your headpiece and prepare to make your grand entrance. The beads that hang from your jewelry click against one another with your movements, a calming sound that brings you comfort and reassurance despite your nerves, and you are only allowed a single moment to hide your scarred hands underneath the pure white fabric of your gloves before the two guards begin to escort you out to greet your tribe.

Your mother sits at the grand table amongst the elders of the tribe, a proud smile on her face as she watches you emerge from the palace with grace and dignity despite how nervous she knows you are, and as soon as your presence is announced you are greeted with an obligatory round of applause from your people. Koa rises, a bowl of black paint in his hand and unreadable expression on his lips; he does not bow to you as he is expected to, but no one other than you seems to mind.

“It is with great honor that I bestow the mark of welcoming upon our Princess,” he announces as he dips a finger into the black paint and presses four dots on each cheek before drawing an intricate swirl on your forehead meant to represent the tides washing back to the shore— a symbolic mark of your return home. “May she be welcomed with warmth and gratitude after her three year long journey from home.”

You smile proudly, waving to your tribe as some cheer and others politely clap and most share looks of uncertainty with one another. The return of their princess was now official, but one unspoken question remained: who would take the throne now? You startle at the sudden weight that falls upon your shoulder, Koa maintaining a neutral expression as he leans nearer and whispers in your ear.

“Remember Princess, this paint won’t last forever. Every welcome washes away eventually.”

He pulls away from you like nothing, leaving you stunned and stiff and with no time to recover as he smiles and announces, “Let the festivities begin!”

You are given no chance to retaliate or fight back as you are suddenly pulled every which way by your guests. You are offered various dishes, asked for endless dances, and you can’t even count how many times someone has asked to see your scars. It seems like hours pass before you are finally given a chance to breathe, seating yourself at the table and devouring your plate of puffin-seal sausages— dancing had made you absolutely famished. It’s lonely and, frankly, quite intimidating sitting at the head table by yourself, almost emphasizing the fact that despite being the Princess you aren’t exactly welcomed back, at least not completely.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” A shy voice asks. You quickly swallow the large chunk of sausage in your mouth with a grimace before turning your attention to the boy in front of you who greets you with a friendly smile and sheepish wave.

“Kai!” You exclaim, happy to have a familiar face to keep you company. “You’ve grown so much, I almost didn’t recognize you. Of course you can sit.”

“Thanks, y/n,” the boy says before seating himself beside you. Kai was the silent, soft spoken son of Koa, the boy you would have married had you not ran away. Unlike his father, Kai was good company and never once gave you any trouble. He used to bring you colorful fish scales when you were children, and because his father was your father’s advisor you often spent time together as kids. You got along well, but you never saw him as nothing more than a friend despite how often your parents tried to get you together.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Kai. I’m in great need of a friend,” you admit with a faint smile.

“Yeah, these parties are mostly for the adults if I’m being honest. But it’s nice to see you, too. You look really different. Uh, good different, of course.”

“It’s been some time since we’ve last seen each other,” you note thoughtfully, your solemn gaze focusing upon the festivities before you. “So much has changed.”

“It isn’t so different. Now that the war has ended the men are back and we can start rebuilding. The outer villages should probably receive the most attention considering how small they’ve gotten and how little resources they have, but my dad says we should focus on the capital tribe first. If we’re weak then the smaller tribes don’t even stand a chance. At least that’s what he says, anyway.”

“I agree with you,” you say, turning your attention to him then with an apologetic look on your face. “Listen, I know you were originally promised my hand in marriage, and I’m sorry for running out on you. I didn’t want to hurt you, but an arranged marriage wasn’t part of my destiny, and if I hadn’t ran away I never would have found myself or became the person I am today. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kai laughs quietly, awkwardly tugging at the collar of his coat. “I never really wanted to marry you anyway.”

“Wait, what?”

“My dad was the one who came up with the idea. Ever since we were kids he’d been trying to convince your dad that an arranged marriage between us would benefit the tribe, but Chief Tukon wasn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect,” Kai explains offhandedly, as if his revelation wasn’t incriminating evidence that would prove his father was up to something. “My dad was really persistent though, and once your dad was gone he convinced your mom it would be a good idea to have someone there to look after and protect you now that your father was gone. Normally a marriage like that would be untraditional, but he said the circumstances of the situation made the proposal an exception, so she accepted. Honestly, I was kind of relieved when you ran away and the wedding was called off. I mean, no offense, you’re great, but I like us better as friends.”

“Me too,” you murmur quietly, your mind reeling at the newfound information Kai has given you. All this time you had assumed the marriage proposal had been your parents doing, so to find out that it had been Koa who had been so persistent in your marrying of his son only confirmed the fact that he had been after the throne since the beginning much like you’d suspected. Regaining the throne from Koa was going to be much harder that you initially presumed, he wouldn’t give away his power that easily, and you knew then that you wouldn’t be able to do this alone.

You rise suddenly from the table, startling Kai who watches you curiously and blushes at the chaste kiss you press to his cheek.

“I have to go, but thank you so so much for keeping me company. You have no idea how much you’ve just helped me,” you explain quickly before rushing off and sneaking away from the party, leaving Kai flustered and a bit dumbfounded.

“Uh, you’re welcome...?”

~~~

You watch the early morning sunrise from beyond the horizon, the golden rays of sunshine sparkling along the crystal blue ocean and the outer walls of the palace and reflecting off the irises of your eyes. If your calculations are correct then they should be here any minute now. You’d sent the messenger hawk with a letter of urgency for assistance shortly after your conversation with Kai, and since that night you’d anxiously been awaiting the arrival of your allies. A ship approaches in the distance and you suck in a breath, wrapping your cloak (Zuko’s cloak, actually) tighter around your frame as the icy air crystallizes almost painfully in your lungs before subsiding. They’re here.

The ship pulls up silently to the dock before lowering its ramp, and tears begin to well in your eyes at the sight of the siblings who are quick to rush towards you with open arms and wide smiles.

“Y/n!” Sokka exclaims, lifting you up off the ground in a bone crushing hug before setting you back down on your feet so that Katara may do the same.

“I’ve missed you both so much, thank you for coming on such short notice,” you say with a teary eyed smile, shifting your gaze from Sokka to Katara. “I’m sorry to have pulled you away from Aang and your work on the Harmony Restoration Movement but I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Don’t apologize. As much as I love spending time with Aang, this is more important.”

“Yeah, we left as soon as we got your message,” Sokka agrees. “I can’t believe that jerk would treat you like that after everything you’ve done for our tribe!”

“I wish more people shared your sentiment,” you say with a weak smile. “I know Koa’s up to no good, but I need the proof to convince everyone else.”

“Don’t worry, Princess. Detective Sokka is on the case!” He announces firmly only for both you and Katara to shush him. It is early, after all, so most of the tribe is still asleep, and you can’t have anyone know about your plan to remove Koa from the throne.

“What my brother means to say is we’ve got your back,” Katara says with a comforting smile.

“Thank you,” you breathe, tufts of air blowing past your lips and escaping into the air. “And you told no one about why I invited you here?”

“As far as Aang and Zuko are concerned, we’re here helping you sort through your father’s old belongings and reorganizing the palace.”

“Though, I have to admit, I feel like you maybe should have told your boyfriend about this,” Sokka notes offhandedly. You frown.

“This is water tribe business, I can’t bother Zuko with something like this, not when he has his own nation to run and rebuild. Unless things take a drastic turn we won’t be telling Zuko about Koa until it’s over and done with,” you instruct, earning head nods from an understanding Katara and a reluctant Sokka.

“Alright,” he finally sighs. “So what’s first on the agenda?”

“Katara and I are going to have to look through Koa’s things for any evidence or plans he has in regards to taking over the throne permanently. Sokka, I’m going to need you to blend in with his followers because spirits know he has a lot. Try to gather whatever inside information you can, but don’t blow your cover. You’re going to hear some nasty things about me and you can’t react to them, you have to act like you believe them too,” you explain.

“We can do it,” Katara says firmly. “I’ll even talk to my dad and see if there’s any way he can help.”

“Alright, operation Get Back the Throne is a go!” Sokka says excitedly, and you can’t help the faint smile that pulls at your lips in response.

Getting rid of Koa isn’t going to be easy, not by a long shot, but with Katara and Sokka’s help you know you can put an end to this once and for all.

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vesperlionheart · 4 years

Note

Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move. For KisaSaku. :D

KisaSaku & a belated happy birthday for @darth-salem-emperor-of-earth!

(Sort of a companion fix to This One)

‘In matters of inheritance in the land of Kirigkure, the country is old and small enough to cultivate its leftover practices from the oldest days, when Kiri citizens had to fight tooth and nail to protect what was once only a small fishing inlet. Their monarchy equivalent is selected from the previous ruler and approved by a majority vote from the three departments.’

“It shouldn’t count until an official hearing is held to conclude such matters,” Sakura grumbled to mostly herself. Mei was the least sympathetic out of all her supporters when it came to Sakura’s mood and opinions on her stupid country inheritance.

When Mei heard Sakura’s grumbles she only giggled and added another ‘grievance’ scroll to the ever increasing pyramid of incoming missives that would need to be addressed by the end of the day. “Honestly, you have no one else to blame but yourself. What did you expect would happen when you arrived on our borders with all of Tsunade’s tutelage and the copy nin’s keen sense for seeing underneath the underneath? You thought we’d let you go?”

Speaking of Kakashi made Sakura remember the old man’s poor advice: “Just go and check them out. Get in a few fights, drink a little and show them how terrible of a leader you would really be.”

That had worked out terribly.

While Sakura was legally considered a citizen of Kiri, she had grow up outside its boarders and adapted to the culture of the Fire Country where it mattered to have manners with strangers. Her strategy had been to walk in with a buzz and a beer in hand, provoke a shop keep, fight a swordsman-a legendary swordsman-and curse her way out of town. Everything had been going tremendously well, except actually it hadn’t. Kiri was wet in more ways than one and Sakura had unwittingly impressed more than just a few curious eyes with her tolerance of the local booze. Shit talking was seen as a greeting amongst Kiri locals, and fighting might as well have been synonymous with hugging.

“They’ll kick you out soon enough and you’ll be back home before you know it.”

For not the first time, Sakura lamented Kakashi’s backhanded advice. When she berated him about it later on he only congratulated her on the revitalized economy, the updated hospitals, and all her efforts towards dismantling the caste system. Sakura’s protest that she never meant to do any of that fell on deaf ears.

The trial month was nearly over and plans had already been made to install her as their Mizukage, a position that would put her on par with her one time teacher, the Hokage in the Land of Fire. There was a lot of pomp and ceremony the elders were caught up in that pushed back the actual initiation-but the decision had been made and Sakura’s will was not enough to reject the concessions of the Trident-or the three seats of the Mizukage’s cabinet.

Mei made up the executive branch of the Trident, while the seven swordsmen made up the military branch. Yagura was the head of Economics and the mouthpiece of the Elders who weighed tradition against advancement. Sakura’s job would be to balance all three of their voices and carry the responsibility of any decision they came up with. Only a 3 to 1 vote could overrule a Mizuekage’s executive orders.

“Have you chosen your Second Shadow, yet?” Mei asked.

“I’m actually hoping that if I don’t that this whole party thing can get called off,” Sakura sassed back to Mei, already half finished with the next scroll and all but made up on her finial verdict for the request it presented.

“Have you looked at my boy?”

“Chōjūrō is a sweet kid and will make a fine swordsman one day,” Sakura answered diplomatically.

“But…?”

Sakura looked up and glared. “He’s as shy as an Angel Fish and he still somehow came up with the idea, completely on his own with no help from anyone, to wait for me in my hotel room in a silk robe and slippers and nothing else.” Sakura’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. “I don’t take kindly to attempts of coercion.”

“The kid just wanted your favor and you would hold that against him?” Mei playfully teased.

“I didn’t appreciate it, Mei. Don’t bully your boy into my bed.”

Mei rolled her eyes and picked through the finished missives Sakura had set to the side. “He needed the encouragement. He wouldn’t have done it, even though he wanted to, without some help.”

“I’m not like you, I don’t enjoy robbing the cradle.”

Mei snorted. “Okay then, babe, tell auntie what your type is?”

Sakura paused and looked up over her next scroll. “Why?”

“Can’t you just believe I’m curious? Why do you have to sound so suspicious of every one of my questions? I’m honestly just curious.”

Sakura’s expression turned blank but Mei didn’t seem to care. “Sure, and my answer would have nothing to do with an attempt by you and the elders to set me up with a nice local boy who will convince me to stay. Suuuuure.”

“So if you’re not interested in our little prince, what abut the naughty type. Suigetsu doesn’t have anyone right now.”

“I thought you were trying to convince me to stay, not scare me off. That starfish can’t keep a relationship on lock for more than a month for a reason, and it isn’t the fault of any of his partners.”

“So the naughty type is a turn off. What about the daddy type?”

Sakura’s face made an expression of horror. “Gross.”

“Not literally a daddy, don’t look at me like that. You might be surprised so don’t knock it till you try it. I’ll put that down as a ‘maybe’ for now.”

“Please don’t.”

There was a knock on the door and Sakura shouted out for them to enter before Mei could even turn around. A half second later Sakura realized her mistake when she saw Mei’s gloating face. The office already felt like it was Sakura’s.

Damn.

“What?” Sakura barked a bit rudely when Yagura stopped in front of her desk.

“There’s an issue with deployment.”

“Why are you telling me this? Aren’t Kisame and Zabuza usually the ones who tell me what’s shit with their nin?” Sakura dropped her scroll and leaned back in her seat before waving for him to continue. “What is it?”

If Yagura was bothered by her rude address he didn’t let it show on his face and he never let it carry over into their conversations outside of work. “More of the Kaguya raiders are making issues for the settlements but we don’t have the resources to send out anyone to deal with it. Kisame and Zabuza are both off on missions you approved.”

“This really requires an S ranked response?” Sakura asked, knowing there were few others who could do what Kisame and Zabuza did. If Yagura was asking for either of them he deemed the threat S ranked.

“I’ve already written up the details of the response we’d need.” Yagura produced a thinner scroll and Sakura took it as it passed over her desk.

“If we didn’t have one of the swordsmen on this we’d need at least two dozen nin and we just don’t have those kind of numbers right now.”

“What’s the best we can do?” Sakura asked while rolling back in her chair to check the chart on the wall with a dozen different secret symbols that helped keep her up to date on the military numbers. It showed how many nin of different rank were deployed, how many were wounded, how many were undercover, and how many were available for deployment. It still took Sakura a minute to decipher everything on the chart but she would have it like a reflex by the end of the month.

“Eight.”

Sakura made a face. Eight was a really low number and it was her fault they were in this situation in the first place. She had gambled and played the number game with her nin. Kiri always needed a coalition of soldiers to defend it in case of invasion, and so even if there were over two dozen shinobi at home, she couldn’t touch those.

“Kisame is due back this afternoon, how time sensitive is this issue?”

“It depends on how much the lives of these colonists matter. They’re notorious for skirting on tax payments and regularly sell their produce to rival groups before our citizens.”

“But they are our citizens,” Sakura clarified. They lived outside the walls of Kiri and were largely bitter old marsh farmers and fishermen, but they were culturally more Kiri than Sakura.

“It would be a shame to loose their assets,” Yagura honestly answered. “The Kaguya clan would only grow emboldened if they took over the rest of this territory for themselves.”

Sakura was already standing, pulling off her robes. “Mei, tell Kisame to head over to the settlements as soon as he gets here, even if he’s on fumes. Just the sight of his big blue mug will send some of them running.”

“What are you doing?” Mei asked, eyes wide.

“I’m dealing with this. I still have my rank from Konoha. I should be sufficient with these four,” Sakura said while showing off the mission scroll with her name and four others filled in. “I’ll let them know personally. Yagura will-”

“I understand. I’ll stand in until you’re back.”

“You can’t leave, you’re our Mizukage,” Mei agrued. “That’s against customs. If you fall-”

“I’m not Mizukage yet and you still can’t tell me what to do,” Sakura warned before stalking out of the office with hands itching for a fight.

Hours later her Kabutowari was soaked with blood on both ends, both the hammer and the axe head had been fed enough blood and savagery to sate its appetite for carnage. Sakura was proud of their success and how cheep it cost. Not a single soul on her unit had been seriously wounded or lost and that was quite an accomplishment considering the Kaguya attacked in bands of eight to twelve.

“It’s cause we got to fight with our Mizuekage that our moral was so high,” old man Jinin cheered, looking ready for a stiff drink and maybe an audience who could listen to his tall tales and elaborations on the day’s battle.

Haku came up beside Sakura and touched her elbow to get her attention and she leaned in while he whispered the status of the nin’s health along with the injury inventory. It was a new step Sakura wanted utilized when units emerged from battle. If hospital records could be updated with a complete list of all injuries-including those treated and healed on the battlefield- it would help in future diagnostics.

Haku had helped develop the program and sell it to the other medic trained min. He had been invaluable in helping roll out new changes and on the battlefield his skill set had complemented her fighting style well, since he was more of a long range fighter while Sakura liked to deal damage up close.

“We’re good to go then,” Sakura sighed. “I’m tired. Someone treat me to hot saké once we’re back,” she playfully whined only to get a roar from the men and women on her team.

Haku kept close to her side and walked with her until they got to the natural mist. Sakura gave the signal and the rest of her team blurred into the fog and took off like birds in a dive, unseen and deadly.

“You wanted to ask me something?” Haku queried.

Sakura was about to say yes but something else caught her eye and she pat Haku’s back in dismissal. “It can wait until after we’re back. I need to catch Kisame up but I’ll see you at the Drunken Whaler.”

Haku turned and saw Kisame emerging from he fog with the blood and grime from his last fight still stuck to his uniform. The two locked eyes and Haku nodded first before taking off.

“So, are you slipping for any particular reason or are you just getting old?” Sakura teased while approaching Kisame.

“Hey, no jokes about my age when my boss orders me to pull a double shift. Slave driver actually expected me to do some good here. Shows you what she knows.”

“Maybe she just wanted you to see what she could do, ever consider that?” Sakura teased back, shouldering her Kabutowar’s axe end on her shoulder while she carried the hammer half with an idle swing in her left hand. The weight never bothered her but she wondered how her weapon would react to a new pair of hands.

“How willing are you listen to your bad ass boss?” Sakura asked.

“You mean my hard ass boss?” Kisame teased back. “Dunno, it depends on the request. Does it involve drinking?”

“Eventually all decisions and requests involve drinking, but not yet. We can get sloshed at the Drunken Whaler with the rest of them but before we get that far…” Sakura rolled the axe head off her shoulder and held it out. “Wanna trade?”

Kisame whistled low and reached up to rub at some of the blood on his chin with the heel of his hand. The twilight was creeping in but the clouds were heavy and low so everything shaded in tones of gray and diluted yellow. Sakura saw a fragment of that sunken gold color in Kisame’s shark eyes when he looked at her weapon, but she wished he’d been looking at her.

He reached over his shoulder and rolled Samehada off his back, letting the bandages drop. The trade off was as natural as any other tradeoff would be between the swordsmen. If the seats hadn’t been filled Sakura might have replaced Haku as a swordsman, since she had a legendary blade and he didn’t. If she had been a swordsman she might have had the chance to do this earlier and with more than just Zabuza’s Kubikiribōchō, but she wasn’t a swordsman and this wasn’t a guaranteed thing.

“Thank you,” Sakura said before Kabutowari finished leaving her hand.

“Careful with him, Samehada can-oh, ya know, never mind. He’s a bitch that’s roll over for anyone with tasty chakra, I shouldn’t have worried for ya,” he chuckled while watching the handoff.

With issue, Sakura held the massive blade level and admired its scale pattern in the gray twilight. There was a delightful shiver as it sucked on her chakra and swallowed it down like a drunk with fine wine. Sakura could feel it purr not unlike how Kabutowari would in her mind once they were linked.

“Let’s see how you like this,” Sakura cooed before swinging Kisame’s blade against the wind and stepping into the dance she had first learned for Kabutowari with minor adjustments since she was wilding Samehada in one hand. She felt it tense and almost cut at her hand but settled down as it realized what she was playing at.

Samehada cut into the fog and then shaved it down into a finer mist before wrapping it up around Sakura the way the first swordsmen would, back in the old days when chakra was still too wild to name and gods dared to walk amongst the children of men.

Through the mist and over her shoulder Sakura could see Kisame have fun on his own, dancing through the same steps with her two handed Kabutowari, showing mastery of the finer points in spite of his bulk. At first glance Kabutowari seemed too heavy and burly a weapon to expect any delicacy with, but if one wanted to unlock it’s full potential they would have to know more than just the brutal steps that wrought the most damage, they would need to know how to dance and make both the axe and hammer sing.

She watched Kisame twist through her steps like a ghost of her old master’s memory and watched, transfixed, as he let go of the axe side to swing around and snap back with perfect timing.

“Jealous?” the voice in her mind purred. Samehada helped himself to a drop more of her chakra as she paused in her steps.

“No, I know Kabutowari is my blade and he’ll return to me in time. There’s no reason to be jealous of your master for handling my blade so well.”

“Didn’t mean Kabutowari,” Samehada chuckled so deeply it made Sakura’s mind feel like a cavern with no end. A half second later she realized what Kisame’s blame meant and she giggled, almost manic at the implication.

“No,” she hissed through his stifled giggle. “No way, not you too. Leave me alone and let me have my fun.”

“Don’t see a reason you can’t have it both ways,” Samehada teased, poking at her palm but doing no real damage.

It wouldn’t hurt her if she could hear its voice and give him her chakra to sip on, but even if tried she’d be able to heal such a modest attack. There wasn’t any real danger to her from Samehada, but she felt unbalanced by his words enough to step out of the old steps and swing the monster blade down against the earth with a surge of chakra that split the earth.

She heard his excited cheer and delighted cackle as he served as the conduit to her legendary chakra release. Sounding almost drunk it asked for her to do that again but Kisame was already laughing at her and that was the only sound she could pay attention to.

“I think I’ve had enough fun for one night,” Sakura said with a tired laugh, hopping over to Kisame’s side with his sword. The exchange was easier this time but before Kisame could press Kabutowari into her hand their fingers touched enough for Sakura to feel where all his blisters had hardened into callouses. Even down the sides of his fingers she could feel the evidence of his devotion to the blade and she wondered, wickedly, what it would feel like to be handled by hands like that.

“Naughty,” Samehada purred to her before their link was severed. Sakura felt her face roar with heat and embarrassment, which she tried to play off by jumping back with Kabutowari and a nervous chuckle. Her weapon purred in confusion and almost understood but Sakura sealed him away into one of her pocket dimension before he could scream out the truth like an echo in her mind.

Damn, dirty thoughts-this was all Mei’s fault for planting the seeds in the first place.

Sakura ran her hands through the fog and then combed them through hair, grateful for the cool the almost night allowed. She knew she didn’t have a ‘pretty’ blush like some other girls. She went beat red and it was almost impossible to hide.

“We should head back, we’ve held back long enough the others might get worried. Plus, I wasn’t exactly quiet just now,” Sakura said.

“Aww boss, don’t make this old man run all the way back after I ran all the way out here only to be late,” Kisame playfully whined.

“What, you want to walk back. That’ll take forever,” Sakura said.

“Not for the whole while, but we can run off later. Can’t we just take it easy for a little while?” he asked.

Only because he asked Sakura agreed.

After a minute Kisame spoke up. “So the word going around is that you haven’t picked a second yet. Don’t you have any ideas or is no one willing to take on the load? You’re kinda a slavedriver.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“What are you thinking about.”

Sakura made a face, not knowing if he was teasing or being serious with his question. “It’s so different compared to Leaf, I mean this second almost feels like a marriage partner according to Mei, and it’s kinda serious enough that the thought process is similar. You pick someone and then they’re with you the whole time, nearly day and night, and that’s similar to how Shizune was for Tsunade, but…I don’t know, the cultures are different.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Kisame chuckled. “When Kiri loses a kage it’s tits up and everything goes to shit real quick-we know because we’ve seen it more than any of the other hidden villages. More assignations mean more hard lessons learned.”

“But does it have to be one person? Tsunade had ANBU who were rotated out all the time.”

“Yeah but that’s such a shit idea here. If I wanted to kill the Hokage I’d just impersonate an ANBU and wait in rotation until I was alone with-ah, don’t give me that face, I’m just saying hypothetical things.”

“It’s not so easy to infiltrate ANBU.”

“You say that like we haven’t ever done that,” Kisame snorted and then when he saw Sakura’s face he laughed. “Nothing so bad, boss, nothing so bad! You’ll see for yourself when you get access after inauguration, but those ain’t your people no more. You are ours.”

There were a few too many things making Sakura’s gut church with complicated feelings. What Kisame said about belonging to Kiri was right and it hurt, not because she hated being accepted, but because of what it meant for her ties to everyone back home-back in Konoha. Tsunade and Kakashi were her teachers but they couldn’t call her their disciple anymore. For the sake of the future of their foreign policy, Sakura had watched as the steps were taken to cut her off from the village hidden in the leaves until there was only one place she could run to. It wasn’t a vicious thing and there was nothing personal about it. Sakura actually understood why they did what they did-changing out the codes and locking her out of accessing ANBU updates.

Kiri was supposed to be her home now…her village.

“Boss?”

“You know you can call me by my name when it’s just us,” Sakura said instead, trying to sound annoyed so he didn’t misunderstand the meaning of her words and think she wanted him to speak to her familiarly. “Boss makes me feel like an old lady.”

The other feelings that made her gut churn came from the last thing he said to her. “You are ours.” Someone once said the people in Kiri were a people who knew loss to well to share decently in the future, thus they were a possessive people who coveted many things.

“Then Haruno kun-”

“Haruno kun?” Sakura sputtered. “What are you my uncle? No-ugh, you’re-oh man I had a teacher who would call me Haruno kun in school back when we were in the academy. You’re banned from the ‘-kun,’ if you’re gonna tack something on at least make it sound cute.”

“Sakura chan?” Kisame playfully called out, pitching his voice high and squeaking out the title.

“Never mind, I take it back, just Haruno or just Sakura, but nothing else. Gosh, I thought someone said that in Kiri they didn’t have manners or shit. Just call me whatever, I don’t care,” Sakura said even though she cared.

“Then Haruno, who do you think would be a good candidate for second. You’ll pick from the swordsmen right? Where else would you go?”

“Mei wanted me to go with her boy Chōjūrō but can you see that working out?”

“That jellyfish?” Kisame hooted. “He’s as shy as an Angel Fish. You’d eat him alive for breakfast.”

“I live to entertain,” Sakura mocked with a silly bow. “But you’ve got a point about pulling from the swordsmen. What would that do to your seats? Would you replace whoever left or take in someone new?”

“Maybe Chōjūrō,” Kisame joked.

“He’s an excellent fighter, he just doesn’t have a future in politics,” Sakura defended. “I could see him growing into that role.”

Kisame watched Sakura a half minute longer before saying anything new. The sun was half sunk into the horizon and all the mist seemed to choke on dying colors as they waded through the distortion.

“You have someone in mind, don’t you?”

“I have ideas but I don’t want to have ideas since I don’t like this whole set up. If it was up to me and the elders didn’t insist on tradition, I’d just have the Seven of you on rotation as my guard.”

Kisame made a thoughtful sound. “That could work as a back up, but you know how those old tradition fogies are.”

Sakura rubbed at her neck and looked ahead. “I need a drink. Race you back?”

“Ah, but I’m all tired from-” Kisame never finished his sentence since he chose that moment to flash step forward and take off running. Sakura cursed and raced behind him but came last and ended up having to buy a round for everyone at the pub.

When Kisame woke a week later he was wide eyed and energized, which was a rare thing for him these days. He normally hated mornings but the sight of his fresh dress uniform hanging up was enough to make him remember why today was such a big deal. It wasn’t just any other day, it was Sakura’s inauguration.

The whole of Kiri was hyped as fuck for a new Mizukage like Sakura, one who revitalized their economy and recovered their crumbling hospital system. The fact that she was the wielder of Kabutowari made it feel like a long lost child coming home from the war with spoils to share with the whole country. Sakura felt like she had always been theirs, like Kiri had always been her home. Even when she had been trying to piss people off and get out of the inheritance she had fit in too well. Her brash personality and strong convictions made her-

“Perfect,” Kisame said out loud, a little too caught up in his thoughts.

He grimaced a the sound of his thoughts and moved to wash up before dressing for the day. He needed to finish waking up or else he was bound to say something else equally stupid. Today was too important to look like a fool.

In short order he was as handsome as he’d ever get with an ugly mug like his and dressed for the occasion. Samehada fit into the latch carrier on his back and outside he saw the others waiting in the courtyard to the mansion where Sakura would start her procession.

Already, people were filling the streets in hopes of catching an eyeful of their new Mizukage on her first day on the job. Some were selling flowered crowns and wreaths as the newest trend had been to emulate Sakura’s flowery good looks. Young girls were cutting their hair like her and boys were dreaming about an impossible future among the swordsmen because of her. There was a building that had been painted with a modest mural of Sakura trees and different blooming flowers in celebration. The love his people had for her was everywhere.

“You’re not late,” Suigetsu taunted.

Kisame punched the younger boy in the face, ignoring both Suigetsu and his brother in favor of seeking out Zabuza. “Hey, you hear anything yet?”

“No one here knows who’s getting the nomination, that hasn’t changed,” Zabuza answered.

“Did you sign the consent form?” Haku asked, lookin up at Zabuza first and then Kisame. The consent form was basically a way those with the qualifications could put their name in the hat that Sakura could pull from.

“On day one, brat. Why, you didn’t?”

“I…I mean I eventually put my name in for consideration. I think I’d do well at it,” Haku answered, steeling his words towards the end even if he kept glancing back at Zabuza.

Between the seven of them, the only one Kisame seriously considered a challenge was Zabuza when it came to winning Sakura’s second. The pair of them were the strongest, arguably, and had a good working relationship with others. But, between the both of them, Kisame knew he was the only one who had been on Sakura’s side since day one when she first arrived. Even if Zabuza had been won over and was loyal now, no one had been in Sakura’s corner like Kisame.

Kisame thought his chances were good.

“Get in your dame spots,” Ameyuri snapped with a dangerous edge. Since Sakura had cured Ameyuri’s disease the kunoichi was near fanatical in her devotion to Sakura. When Kisame pretended to drag his feet Ameyuri snapped her sharpened teeth at his face and he backed up with a chuckle.

The doors to the mansion opened and the elders filtered out before Yagura and Mei. Yagura and Mei paused at the top of the stairs before joining the elders in the courtyard where their respective bodyguards were stationed. That’s when Sakura emerged at the top of the stairs to the mansion and the moment Kisame thought his heart was going to stop.

The robes had never looked so good on anyone before. Underneath the white and blue folds a soft dress of flaring gray and white, detailed with pearls and accented with a thick mother of pearl gorget around her neck, like the kind samurai would wear of a heartier material. It was ceremonial but Sakura wore it like armor.

The bells on her hat tinkled as she descended the steps and took her spot at the head of the group. Her painted lips were pressed into a hard line and her jaw was set with determination, but she still looked soft where it counted.

Kisame caught her eye at one point and it made his smile grow when the corners of her eyes crinkled for him.

“Haruno Sakura…” one of the elders began.

The ceremony lasted no longer than twenty minutes before Sakura was told to turn around and address the others. “And in line with the traditions of our ancestors, I will honor them with this choice and accept a second. Should I ever fall may their strength be measured by the gods and men,” she recited perfectly. Then she locked her lips and held up a hand before adding, “and in addition to a second I will be installing a rotating support guard for the Mizukage, with the blessing of the elders who safeguard our traditions. Every member of the Seven Swordsmen will rotate into the role of a tertiary figure of my inner circle, behind my second.”

Beside him Ameyuri gasped in delight, suddenly filled with hope that even if she wasn’t chosen she would still be able to serve her idol.

“Mizukage, your pick for second shadow?” one of the elders prompted.

Sakura nodded and the bells on her hat tinkled. “For my second shadow I have chosen Yuki Haku to serve me. Yuki Haku do you accept?”

That…didn’t… make sense. Kisame snuggled to hear what Sakura said next as Haku approached her and knelt before accepting the mother of pearl pin with the symbol of Second Shadow. Haku said something back to her, maybe in thanks, but all Kisame could hear was the rush of blood in his ears as his gut churned in a grief he couldn’t understand.

#Kisame #KisaSaku #Sakura #Fanfiction #my writing #ask #darth-salem-emperor-of-earth #kisame hoshigaki #Haruno Sakura

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amethystshipper · 4 years

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I was scrolling through my dash, as one does, and saw .gifs of the scene where the juniors are defending WWX to Sect leader Yao, and I was just smiling and thinking “ah, the kids are all right this time, it will be better”. And then I realized that ... the kids were all right the previous generation, too? And it would have been so easy to see them band together, especially after everything?

Hear me out. In essence, there’s no difference between the juniors and the ... OG juniors. (We need a name for them. Is there a name for that generation??? Cause we have the parents, and we have the juniors, what are WWX&co named??? Whatever, I’m sticking with OG juniors.) Each of these groups went through shitty situations, the OGs arguably through worse with the war and all. But before the war, we have 2 major bonding moments: the Cloud Recesses classes, and the Wen indoctrination. What if they actually bonded together, and their relationships were more flushed out? (Keep in mind I only saw the live-action drama, so that’s what I’m basing everything on.)

So, Cloud Recesses. You have the Jiangs, and then NSH, LWJ, WN and WQ added to the group, more or less willingly. JZX is still being a little bitch, but whatever, he’s there too, along with MianMian, who is arguably his biggest contribution. I will admit, there are ... levels ... of closeness. But you have the three gremlins getting together, and LWJ pulled in (again, levels), you have star-struck WN and tough WQ (who, need I remind you, took care of JYL at least once, which I bet the latter will not forget). You have LQR spitting blood because the boy is definitely his mother’s son, but LXC smiling indulgently, seeing his little brother finally make friends. (And LQR will remember that CSR was mischief made human form, and her son definitely follows in her footsteps, but both of them wanted always to help and not destroy, so there is definitely something wrong with the accusations that WWX wants to take over the world. And LXC will remember the Wen boy who stayed behind to save one of their own, and the Wei boy who dived in to help them both, and will not believe the grim tales of the fierce Ghost General and the Yiling Patriarch.)

After CR, WWX/LWJ/JC/NHS have their little murder adventure, with a WQ cameo. LWJ is added to the gremlin dynamic and sure, he might not feel like he fits in at first, but WWX cannot seem to stay away from him, and he suffers in silence with JC while WWX is being an idiot and risking his life, omg, stop that, get down you demented cat, and then finds that there’s a certain bond little brothers with big brothers larger-than-life have, and maybe having two more friends is. Acceptable. They’re all supposed to be 15-16 at this point, teenage boys that started this adventure fully confident, at least on the outside. And then Xue Yang happens. And this is, I think, one of the biggest turning point for these four. Because, to a certain degree, all of them rely on rules. Their own, if nothing else. And here is a guy who just ... wants to see the world burn. He kills with no remorse, admits it gleefully, and is just awful in so many ways. This is their first brush with how brutal the outside world is, when they start to doubt themselves and their convictions. But then! XXC and SL appear, and it’s a breath of fresh air! Because there are terrible people and worse situations, but as long as they hold fast in their beliefs and work together and trust eachother, they can beat them!

So they go to the Unclean Realm, and they meet Daddy NMJ. And he’s been watching them approach, and he sees his little brother laughing with the boy in black, he sees him cackling while the one in purple is swinging his fists around; he sees him share a smile with Xichen’s little brother while the other two are laughing so hard they’re bent over so far they’re almost falling to the ground. And he doesn’t show it, because the Red Blade Master is gruff, and tough, and mighty, but in his heart he’s already adopted these kids who include his baby brother in their circle with so much ease, it’s hard to imagine him on the outside. (And in the future, when people are yelling about WWX’s darkness, this is the image he will have in his head: four boys being innocent and happy and his, how dare you try to touch them?!)

Cloud Recesses burns. LXC is nowhere. And then. The biggest paradigm shift - the indoctrination. Everyone arrives in Nightless City. The three OG gremlins watch LWJ back to his jade statue default, they lose their swords, they are on the same side with JZX and WWX/JC don’t know which one of these frustrates them more. It should be the looming war. It’s probably the JZX part. Now, I assume they spend at least a few weeks there, I don’t remember if it’s mentioned. But WWX always tried to get in front, to catch WC’s attention. (Because he’s the disposable one, right? High enough in status that WC is satisfied when he gets to punish him, but not a sect heir, not someone who will bring down a whole sect if he dies. Little does he know.) So don’t tell me that the others don’t rally around him. (Discreetly of course. They learn fast that he just gets more protective if others are hurt because of him.) There’s nothing stronger than a common enemy, and the Wens and WC, specifically, are definitely that. So they watch, and they remember WWX being beaten, whipped, humiliated, all so that others will not be. Not to mention that one night that he doesn’t tell even JC about, because it would crush his little brother to know he couldn’t keep his promise. They remember him staying behind so that they have a chance to escape the murder turtle. (And after the war, when the adults will try to damn WWX for being too arrogant and too prideful, the OG juniors will remember the kid who stood up to the Wen clan and has the scars to prove it, and all to protect them. Where was Jin Guangshan? Where was Sect leader Yao?)

Lotus pier burns. WWX disappears. JC and LWJ look for him for 3 months. And then. And then he comes back. And he burns the Sun to the ground, using dark cultivation and corpses and no sword, and everything that they were taught not to do, ever. And he succeeds where everyone else fails.

Afterwards, when the dust settles but not really, when life comes back to normal but not quite, when things become too boring apparently, the young ones see their elders muttering. And gossip. And look a bit too much at WWX, too closely. But this was a generation forged in the fires of war. They were not like their parents, who had time to figure out their shit and then go to battle, no. They were kids when it all started. There are no more kids amongst them now.

So when the minor sect leaders, subtly encouraged by JGS and JGY, talk about the “young” LC being a leader at such a young age with honeyed words that hide rot, NMJ and LXC rise to his defense. Both of them became sect leaders at young ages, both of them know how hard it is. LQR rises as well and the older ones expect him to be on their side, but they forget LQR got entrusted with a clan and 2 children that he was not supposed to have, so he will never demean another who was in an even worse position, but rose to the occasion despite everything that happened. The Lans promote knowledge and learning above all, and many people can learn a lot from Sandu Shengshou, wouldn’t you agree Sect leader Yao?

When the Jin sect complains about the Stygian Tiger Seal, rumors begin to spread from behind hand painted fans that they are after the artifacts of other sects. After all, does WWX not belong to YungmengJiang? Therefore, do his creations not belong to the sect as well? Who’s to say they won’t go after the treasures of the other sects next?

When JYL destroys Jin Zixun at Phoenix Mountain, JZX steps up to the plate and stands behind his fiancee. WWX is obviously her little brother that she cares deeply about, he will be his future brother-in-law, and honestly Zixun where were you even during the war?? You have demands now because?? Go shoot some arrows and chill. (JC is just standing there with crossed arms, looking at Jin Zixun without blinking, keeping a tight grip over Zidian who is the definition of “lemme at him!!!” Jiejie doesn’t like it when he slices and dices people, although she’s not leaving much for him to chew on. It’s the most fun he’s had in years.)

When JGY sweetly suggest that there might be a viper poised to strike them in the back, NHS innocently asks “but San-Ge, didn’t your blow to WRH’s back help us win the war?” (NMJ has never loved his brother more than when he roasts JGY. Really, he could cry with pride. Here, A-Sang, there’s that fan you wanted. I ordered new birdcages to be build back home, you can have all the birds you want. Training is ... postponed.)

When news about the labor camps and the slaughtered Wens are revealed, many stay silent. A few of them cheer. But there are also a few that remember a boy willing to save someone from drowning, willing to risk his life to save the dead bodies of two parents. They remember the best doctor of their generation helping them heal, and rest, and save their loved ones. They remember that they are not the only children who were taken by this war, that they were not the only ones forced to make awful choices that haunt their dreams. They remember that it’s easy to stand back, but yet there was always one who stood up for the others, who would stand up for them, so how can they not stand with him now when he most need it?

WWX is not alone. The YungmengJiang clan is not alone. These kids went through hell and back in the past couple of years, and they will be damned if they will let another rise in WRH’s place. This ends now.

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spectralscathath · 4 years

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R.O.S.E-6???

oh god okay so this one is a long one. But basically: Ruby is the robot built by Atlas to save the world and harness the power of the Silver Eyes, on Summer’s request. Tai and Yang are designated to be her family, so that she can feel the right amount of love in order to awaken the Silver Eyes. James does his best to support them, Ruby gets the best training with the Ace Operatives, the best equipment, and plenty of time to spend with her family. (Qrow, in an inverse to his canon self, dotes on Yang. She is by far the favourite niece. He really hates Ruby as well. Unfortunate!)

Ruby 6.0 gets to go to the Vytal Festival in Beacon, it should be a safe, low-stakes, risk-free test against some other Huntsmen, she can see the world, experience new things, and really get a chance to see what it’s like to be human.

Penny, for her part, grew up in Patch as the daughter of famed inventor and doctor, Pietro Polendina. Having lost her family to Grimm when she was too young to remember it, Penny is a prodigy fighter who built her weapons, Heartstrings, together with her father, who implanted the neural chip she uses to fight with them. Good enough to get into Beacon two years ahead of schedule, Pietro asked his live-in apprentice Ciel to go with Penny, just to make sure she didn’t get herself in trouble.

They get teamed up with Winter Schnee, the proud middle child of the Schnee family and the spare to her elder sister Weiss’s heir, and Sienna Khan, a faunus runaway who has a bone to pick with everyone. Things go... predictably poorly.

Because this is kinda long, I’ll actually be putting the snippet under the cut, along with some character sheets! I’m not sure if I’ll ever write this but if I ever get round to it it’ll probably be more of a collection of oneshots with a vague plot, but I do like the idea

~~~~~~~~~~

PROJECT R.O.S.E SUBJECT: RUBY 6.0 TESTING: COMBAT CAPABILITIES OVERSEEN BY: GENERAL J. IRONWOOD NOTES TAKEN BY: DR V. SHELL

Ruby stood in the simulation room, facing across from Captain Ebi and Lieutenant Ederne. Captain Ebi smiled at her, Lieutenant Ederne doing the same with a massive grin that invoked similar feelings of warmth as Yang’s smile.

“You ready, kiddo?” Captain Ebi rested his weapon on his shoulder, Ruby’s silver eyes flicking to it as her databanks ran schematics in her head.

[Kingfisher: Huntsman-class weapon. Fishing pole with razor wire line, melee form. Hook can be used for mobility. Harpoon function stored in back of hilt. No gun format; razor wire provides ranged attack]

She raised her right arm, the black metal of her forearm shifting and altering so her wrist cannon emerged, ready for combat. “Yes sir.”

“Ruby, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’,” Captain Ebi reminded her, Lieutenant Ederne giving her a thumbs up beside him as she hefted her weapon in one hand.

[Timber: Huntsman class weapon. Two-handed warhammer, Ederne’s strength makes her capable of wielding one-handed. Thrusters can be activated to maximise attack output. Rocket launcher for ranged format- AVOID AT ALL COSTS]

The last words had been added to the databanks after Ruby 4.0 had been broken in a training session. Lieutenant Ederne had been very apologetic, Specialist Bree had told Ruby that Ederne had been driven to the point of tears by what she had done.

Ruby hadn’t really been bothered by it, after all, she could easily be rebuilt. Even better, Mr Ironwood had her databanks wiped of the actual recordings of her deaths whenever she was rebuilt. It felt like it happened to a Ruby that wasn’t her. In a way, it did. She was never the same between incarnations, but she watched the audio-visual data of her previous models so she could learn from them and do better.

She was built to save the world, after all. That was her job. She was built to be a hero.

Ruby blinked up at General Ironwood, overseeing this test with a smile. She would not disappoint him, nor her father. She wanted to test her strength in the Vytal Tournament, and see more of the world.

She turned her cheerful smile to Captain Ebi and saluted playfully. “Yes sir!”

~~~~

“Sienna Khan. Penny Polendina. Ciel Soleil. Winter Schnee. The four of you retrieved the white queen pieces, and from this day on, you’ll be known as team PSCS.” Ozpin smiled at Penny, who felt her heart metaphorically swell with pride and joy. “Led by Penny Polendina.”

“Thank you, Mr Ozpin!” Penny beamed at him, the neural implant on her forehead gleaming silver under the spotlights.

Ciel patted her shoulder, a faint smile crossing her features before she hid it behind her usual professionalism. “Good job, Penny.”

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with some riffraff faunus,” Winter scoffed, her white hair pulled back in a severe bun as she stood tall, glaring down at their fourth teammate.

Sienna snarled back, tiger ears pinned flat to her head and inked stripes lining her bare arms. “Oh you better keep your eyes open, Schnee,” she said it with all the venom of a slur, “cause the moment you drop your guard I’m taking that gaudy sword of yours and skewering you on it.”

“I’d like to see you try, beast.” Winter hissed back, the air around the two fraught with violent intent.

Penny blinked and looked at Ciel. “They’ll be best friends once we begin to do friendship things,” she affirmed.

“If you say so.” Ciel didn’t look convinced.

~~~~

ROSE 6.0 (Robotic Optical Silver-light Emitter) Codename: Ruby Rose Species: Synthetic Soldier Family: James Ironwood (project sponsor), Taiyang Xiao Long (assigned father), Yang Xiao Long (assigned sister) Age: 2 years, 7 months without malfunction for current model Weaponry: Moonlight’s Cull, scythe blade stored in her left arm that she can form for attacks. Wrist-mounted blaster in right arm. Abilities: latent possibility of Silver Eyes.

Penny Polendina Age: 15 Semblance: Visual Data, allows Penny to remember everything she sees, scan people to obtain information, see through dark/fog, and replay data she saw back on her scroll for others to see Weapon: Heartstrings, a set of foldable blades Penny can control through a neural implant Partner: Winter Schnee

Ciel Soleil Age: 17 Semblance: Last Minute, allows her to pause time for her perception of a minute Weapon: Precision, a sniper rifle stored in her watch, half-mechanical, half-hard light dust Partner: Sienna Khan

Winter Schnee Age: 17 Semblance: Glyphs, summon specialties: Beowulf, Nevermore, Manticore Weapon: Kalte Iridacea, a set of swords that can combine into one blade. No dust capabilities Partner: Penny Polendina

Sienna Khan Age: 17 Semblance: Camouflage, she can absorb the materials around her and take on their properties. The stripes on her arms visibly take on the visual properties of them Weapon: Primal Wrath, a three-pronged chain whip that she later adds dust to Partner: Ceil Soleil

#asks #my writings #penny polendina #ruby rose #OH GOD RUBY I'M SO SORRY #ALSO TO TAI AND YANG #ROSE 6

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minaa-munch · 4 years

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Ashes and Dust (Part 2)

“Jinko?”

“Suna”

“What about Anko?”

“Dunno”

“Minato?”

“Nope”

Shikaku paused, raising himself to rest on his elbows as he fixed the blond with a curious look, “If he’s not on that squad and you haven’t seen him around your family compound...” trailing off, black hues narrowed a fraction, “Where do you think he could have gone?”

“Beats me” Blue hues blinked as a light breeze slapped a stray leaf on his cheek. Inoichi didn’t even bother to flick it off.

Next to him, Chouza opened another bag of rice crisps, “You don’t think any of the other villages are playing dirty, do you?” fingers pulled out two chips before the bag was invitingly dangled over Inoichi’s face, “I mean...he broke the Sandaime’s record and everything.”

Inoichi sighed before he too, pulled himself up via conveniently placed Akimichi wrist, “You guys worry too much” he grinned, looping both arms around their shoulders, “this is Namikaze we’re talking about! Wherever he is, he’s probably fine!”

Shikaku and Chouza exchanged a look. Inoichi was trying too hard to be cheerful, and it was very easy for them to tell, seeing as how they had spent so much time together. They were also the very few who knew that both boys shared a clan, though Inoichi happened to be from the main house whereas Minato’s parentage was somewhat vague at best.

What they didn’t know though, was that Inoichi had already asked.

“He’s been picked for a secret mission.” the patriarch was clearly busy, hands already unrolling a scroll, “seeing as how he’s the only one who made Chunin.”

Ouch. Inoichi felt his face burn a little in embarrassment though he dared not say a word to risk trying the elder Yamanaka’s temper. Said Yamanaka seemed to have noticed. Steely blue hues flickered to the younger male as his fingers paused, “I have faith in you, Inoichi.”

Eh?

He swore he saw the old man’s expression soften, though then again Inoichi might have been hallucinating “Someday, you will lead this clan and you’ll have to make decisions that will not only affect you, but this entire family and even the village.”

Blue hues blinked in surprise.

“Everyone has a role to play. I know you’ll be able to play yours.”

His father had conveniently sidestepped the issue, and that hadn’t been the first time. If Yamanaka Ichirou didn’t want to talk about something, not even the Hokage could get him to speak.

Still...it had been nice. He frowned a little at the memory, “He’s fine...”

Probably.

-----

Wet fingers fumbled with the seal that taped the scroll shut. So hasty was he in his attempts, he had forgotten the necessary chakra seals required until a manicured hand poked his shoulder in reminder.

Once the appropriate seals had been made, the scroll unfurled all over his lap - cue three pairs of curious hues as the newly titled Sanin leaned over the slanting script, the kanji clear and crisp on faded parchment.

Jiraiya,

I’m glad that the three of you managed to survive a run-in with Hanzo. The news of your successes and your new titles has definitely boosted our troops’ collective morale. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to celebrate - I want you three to wrap up matters in Ame as quickly as possible and then join our reinforcements at Kusa.

We, on the council’s approval, intend to make a final push against Iwa soon, and you three will be needed to further the objective.

Still no word of Minato, eh? Jiraiya’s lips pursed in a thin line as Orochimaru and Tsunade exchanged a look between themselves. They were not privy to Jiraiya’s internal monologue, though they were well aware of what it meant to go toe-to-toe with Iwa around that particular border.

Their resources were at their limits - it was either victory or utter defeat from here on and that particular outcome had just been placed squarely on their shoulders. Hatake Sakumo was already too occupied in Suna, and they couldn’t afford to pull Jonin from where they were stationed in the many, many, outposts littering the border of Hi no Kuni.

That, coupled with their recent escapades had the village leadership turning to them. White brows furrowed at the thought, as he raised his head to look at his teammates who appeared just as battered as he was. Tsunade met his expression with a pensive one of her own, whereas Orochimaru simply sighed, standing to regain his spot before the rocky precipice. The wind whipped his inky hair around his shoulders, but neither Jiraiya nor Tsunade had to look at him to know what he was thinking.

They would probably head out tomorrow, though he had an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew had nothing to do with hunger. The Sandaime had ignored his constant queries after his wayward student, and Jiraiya was no fool.

The will of fire must keep burning in order to illuminate the village, from where tree leaves will bud a-new.

Cue the timely crack of thunder, announcing a fresh bout of rain.

-----

The night was quiet, apart from the occasional, low drone of machinery and the occasional cricket that tittered from somewhere in the mess of concrete and wood that comprised the streets of Sora no Kuni. The moon hid behind one particularly towering structure, its light streaming in patches across the dark alleys. One particular strand illuminated crimson locks before they disappeared, leading a casual witness to deem it a trick of misplaced brick.

The land of the Sky, as it had come to call itself, had recently emerged to challenge the five great shinobi nations, a feat that usually did not merit much notice since they weren’t called the five great shinobi nations for nothing.

However, what made it a threat was the presence of arms and machinery - coupled with the fact that they had practically announced the fact that they would destroy the nations - starting from Hi no Kuni - from the very heavens.

The declaration made it their problem. Technology was troublesome and something Konoha did not possess in abundance you see; and at that point in time, they could not afford a new contender in a war such as this. The fact, coupled with their dwindling resources made it the perfect training dummy of sorts. Light hues flickered to colored counterparts at the thought, taking in the sick pallor of the kunoichi’s face. They hadn’t given her enough time to recuperate from their training sessions, nor from handling constantly fluctuating demonic chakra and he could see that it was beginning to take its toll on her.

Well, tough. “Just like we practiced.” He said, to which she turned even paler, if it were possible. Gloved digits pulled out an inscribed scrap of paper, “Its fine. We have reinforcements if it comes down to it.”

“Iie. You don’t know what the Kyubi can do.” The whisper was firm, though laced with disdain, as pale fingers curled into tight fists by her sides. Kushina was adamant, “Mito sama never meant for the vessel to be used this way.”

Cue a frown that the Uzumaki couldn’t see, “Times have changed...” he began, nimble fingers already forming seals; the air had shifted around them, though in all the wrong ways, “And you don’t get to complain.” The inscribed bit of paper was slapped on to her forehead before she could move, the kanji already bleeding on to her features; black ink drawing out frothing, burning chakra that wrapped around her limbs. Her eyes had grown wide, petrified as blood enveloped the startled iris.

The malevolent chakra forced him to take a step back. A masked gaze took note of the bubbling tails that had begun to sprout from her altered form, and what had once been a kunoichi was now a snarling beast on all fours. Empty white sockets almost zeroed in on him before he disappeared in a swirl of leaves, leaving nothing but the concrete around them to suffer the beast’s wrath.

History would later report that Sora no Kuni was destroyed in a single night. Nothing but debris and burnt corpses remained.

--And the technology they had been so proud of? Twisted heaps of scrap metal amidst splatters of thick blood.

----

Pale blue hues stared at despondent digits as he willed them to move - only to get a slight twitch of his index finger in reply. Frustrated, he knocked his head back into metal, tired lids fluttering shut.

He was more than exhausted, if that was possible --- and maybe if he hit his head hard enough, he’d manage to give himself a concussion.

Cue the steady sound of dripping fluid as his hooded gaze narrowed at the dark smudges lining the opposite wall. How many days had it been? The thought prompted a frown, though more at the loss of his sense of time and space - they were at war, weren’t they? He had rescued Kushina just yesterday...

Right?

At times like these - which were rare, seeing as how this was the only other instance - he wondered, not for the first time, what Jiraiya sensei would do.

|| Special thanks to @senjutsunade for tolerating my ranting/whining/moping. ^^;

#Yamanaka Inoichi #Uzumaki Kushina #Akimichi Chouza #Namikaze Minato #ANBU #Konoha #Jiraiya #Ashes and Dust #poor kushina #will of fire #Jiraiya the jerk coming up soon #Orochimaru #Tsunade #Sannin

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starlight-parkers · 6 years

Text

Early | soulmate!peter parker x reader

[ gif belongs to @spideypparkers ]

author’s note(s): helloooo im back from the dead after almost four months of no posting, my own writing that is. im sorry for my absence, a lot has happened in the last few months, but i hope this fic makes up for it uwu. this was a request from anon. so i hope you enjoy.

warning(s): angst, swearing?, kidnapping, mentions of blood, fight scenes oof

rating: teen?

genre: angst to fluff

words: 3.1K

summary: he could feel your emotions, he could feel your pain, he just wished he was earlier, so he didnt have to feel you hurt.

Peter could never love anyone more than he loved you. Not only was it written in the stars of fate for you, but he had loved you even before then, before he knew what a soulmate was.

In this world, you first found out that you had a soulmate through the senses and emotions (you felt this first at the start of puberty). More often than not, you would feel sad when your soulmate was or they would feel happy when you were but when you met your soulmate, it was said that you would experience a burst of warmth and something that you would have never felt before.

Peter thought himself to be lucky, his soulmate ending up to be you, his longtime crush. He loved everything about you, from the way you laughed to the way your brows furrowed and your tongue stuck out when you studied hard. He loved how caring you were for others and how much you were willing to do to make someone else happy. He loved you, no. He was in love with you.

But sometimes, to him, finding his soulmate in his teen years was a slight burden. Yes, you were his whole world and yes, you treated him well but the teenaged super hero couldn’t help but think that there were things he was missing out on because he had formed his soulmate connection early.

The teen felt as if he had missed out on that wild, rebellious and experimental part of youth. He never got to find himself as a person, test the boundaries. Because he was bound to you. Eternally.

Now, Peter couldn’t blame you for that, he loved you and you, him. It would be unfair to do so. But being so young and watching his friends up and out there in the world made him envious. And right now, he was seriously envious of their ability to not be able to feel their soulmate’s emotions, much more intensely. After becoming bound to each other, it’s possible for the emotional connection between soulmates to strengthen instead of disappear. That had been the case for yourself and Peter.

As he trained alongside his mentor, turned uncle figure, the brunette could feel your irritation bursting through his veins and he knew exactly why you were feeling that way. Letting out a huff, the webbed-hero forced himself to work away your emotions as he practiced his moves, so he could focus more on himself but with every passing thought, he could tell that his girlfriend was becoming more and more frustrated.

Plopping down on the training mat, Peter let out an exhausted sigh as your irked emotions seemed to subside. He ran a hand through his sweaty locks as he watched his mentor take a seat opposite him after their sparring match. “You okay kid?” Tony asked, tossing the boy a bottle of water to soothe his heaving chest.

Peter nodded, resting his outstretched arms on his knees as he toyed with the plastic. “It’s just (Y/N)” Tony raised a brow as the younger hero went on. “I can tell she’s slightly mad at me for spending the weekend up here training instead of being with her”

Tony only nodded in response, choosing not to give advice from his own failed relationships (he had yet to meet his soulmate) and pressed his lips into a thin line. Sometimes, Peter wished he could be like the billionaire; live out his life for just a little longer before finding his soulmate but other times, he noticed how lonely Mr Stark got and he considered himself grateful then.

As the young avenger settled into his bed at the avengers compound, a strong wave of sadness crashed over him as it pumped through his veins. Peter knew you were upset, he hated when you felt that way especially when he was the cause behind it. The young brunette thought about sending you cute little cat videos, maybe some vines to cheer you up because he loved you and would much rather bask in your happiness rather than revel in your sadness but suddenly; there was a gut wrenching blow of pain that twisted in a spot at the back of Peter’s head and an unexpected feeling of fear and panic rose in the chambers of his chest.

Shooting up, he felt his own panic trickle into his blood stream, flowing in a circuit around his body and making him anxious. Throwing the covers off his body, the brunette teen scrambled for his phone, viciously tapping in the passcode before scrolling to your phone number. He dialled it.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

“H-hello-?” The voice was weak, small and quivering but Peter knew it was yours. There was somewhat of a thwack and then a whimper causing Peter to clench the phone In is grip. “Peter...”

“Y/N-? Baby, are you okay? Where-?” The pause that followed had the boy tense, one hundred million thoughts running through his head. A dark chuckle emitted from the end of the line, along with more whimpers. “I don’t know who you are...” Peter growled, hating whoever it was, that was hurting his girlfriend, his soulmate. “But if you lay another hand on her, I swear to god I’ll-“

“Oh what’s this?” The voice taunted, not even intimidated by Peter’s menacing tone. “Is The itsy bitsy spider, threatening me? Now, we just can’t have that can we little dove? Tell your precious little soulmate how things are going to go down, darling.”

There was shuffling on the other end, heavy breaths filling the air. “P-pete...” he gripped the phone harder at your voice. “I don’t know how they got m-me but they want something from Mr Stark. I don’t know what, I-“

The line cuts off and the teenaged superhero drops his phone with shaky hands, leaning back on his headboard as he tried to gather his thoughts. What would he do? How could he help you? How could he let this happen to you? His soulmate? Fingers practically trembled as the brunette reached for his phone, a text message illuminating the screen and the the room.

[To Peter Parker]

[From Baby <3 ]

Bring us the stark tech or your precious little dove gets it.

Another text followed though only mere seconds later, with coordinates his soulmates location sending him into a frenzy. The brunette shot up, yanking on the spidersuit, pacing around the room as he did so. How would he get what he needed? What would Mr Stark say? A plan formulated in his mind, he could always scale the building and sneak into the labs, maybe even disable F.R.I.D.A.Y for a while. Nodding his head, Peter lugged open his window, fear settling in his chest at the prospect of his soulmate getting hurt or even stealing from his mentor.

Just as he was about to crawl through the window, his bedroom door popped open with a click. The teen superhero half expected it to be Vision, heading to the wrong quarters again but instead he was met with the groggy face of his role model, Tony Stark. “P-Peter” the elder man yawned, stretching his back until it cracked. Said boy froze in his place, unsure of how to react, of how it looked with him trying to sneak out. “I heard shuffling, are you okay-?”

Tony glanced over the boy, confusion falling over his tired and aged features as he watched Peter step down from the window. “Mr Stark- I...it’s not what it looks like-“

That was all it took for the boy to break down, heaving out his fears and worries and the menacing situation that raided his teenage mind. After all, he was still just a kid, and yes he hadn’t experienced the wild side of being a teenager, but if anything had happened to you. Peter would never forgive himself.

Tony held the boy through out his tears, shakes and shivers, promising the teenaged superhero that he’d get his soulmate back, even if it was the last thing either of them did. They left the compound that night with two words on the seams of the elder’s lips. “Suit up”

It wasn’t long before the pair reached the warehouse you were being held hostage at. The air, was thick, scents of rotting wood and damp wafting through it whilst the atmosphere was tense and left a heavy feeling on Peter’s shoulders.

The place was littered with men, most of the loitering and some carrying weapons. Peter and Tony watched from behind craters, the elder hero trying to formulate some kind of plan before trying to get to you. Peter’s mind was rushing at a million miles per minute as he tried to figure out who was behind this, who had taken you. “Listen Kid, we’re going to need a plan if we’re going to do this properly” Tony whispered, from his right, but the boy paid no mind.

Then he heard it, that voice. The one from the phone. The one who had so sickeningly called you ‘little dove’

And then everything went black.

Blinded by rage, the spider-like hero tore himself from his hiding place, charging at the men who stood about, despite the desperate pleads of the iron man, who stood beside him. Peter shot web after web, towards the men, dragging them down to the ground as their leader, your capture tried to escape. Web fluid, tugged men about, slamming them to the ground by the skull, anxiety raged through the boy’s body, anger courses through his veins and he wasn’t quite sure if it was because he felt your emotions or if he was scared himself.

Tony was shooting blaster’s beside him, he was taking punches and kicks and hits all over, but he’d snapped when he heard the words. “Make sure he doesn’t get the girl!”

“Where is she?!” The brunette yelled viciously, one web later and one of the minions was disarmed, arms pinned to the wall above him as Peter marched forward, with the intent to kill. He gripped the man by the shoulders, shaking him with vigour as he felt his soulmate’s fear rise. “I said where the hell is she?!”

His voice was desperate, but his actions fierce, almost as if he had instant kill mode activated without Karen’s help. The man shook his head, mumbling apologies, pleas for his life. The teen was only mere seconds from ending it, for taking his girl. The one he promised to protect but he was stopped.

“He’s not worthit kid...” Tony tired to reason, the mask plate of his helmet sliding up. The older hero’s expression was stern, almost remorseful, as he gently pried Peter away from the man. “Go after your girl, I’ll take care of things out here.”

With reluctance, the superhero released the minion, nodding his head as he ran off through the warehouse, looking for his soulmate, looking for you. The corridors grew darker and darker with each step, the only sounds coming from the dripping pipes and perhaps even... sobs?

Turning a corner, Peter found himself at the entrance to an empty room and at its centre, was you. You looked tired, weak, hair scraggly and tangled, arms bound to a chair behind your back with your head hung low. You were crying, crystal droplets of water, streaming down the apples of your grubby cheeks. Your breathing uneven.

Peter hated to see you this way.

And it was all his fault.

There was a brief second where you’d looked up, relief flooding through your veins when you noticed the familiar red and blue of Peter’s costume. A faint gasp tumbled from your lips, your red blew wide as you noticed him, and even the faintest of smiles tugged at your lips. Peter felt relief and even happiness filter through his blood stream, and from beneath the mask he was smiling too, you were okay.

But the moment ended as quickly as it came, the leader stopping in front of you once again. Peter watched as the man’s bony fingers traced the edge of your jawline, tipping your chin up so that you would look at him. Goosebumps rose on the plains of his skin, throat dry as he watched, hoping you got out unscathed.

“Oh little dove” the man drawled with a villainous and cool tone, making you flinch away from him. “Your silly boyfriend’s here to save you” he tutted, as you struggled to get away, whimpers burning at the back of your throat. “Too bad he didn’t follow one of my rules, bringing backup. Now we might have to kill him too.”

The man removed himself from your smaller frame, but that didn’t stop you from screaming out. “P-please don’t hurt him, I’ll do anything-“ your voice was hoarse, dry like an arid desert from your lack of water which broke Peter’s heart. The villain offered you a half hearted, sympathetic pout before grinning evilly as he began to prepare for his battle with the infamous Spider-Man.

Peter couldn’t control his next actions.

The brunette blindly flung himself into the room, slinging webs at anyone who approached him during his blind hazy fury. Casting out two webs, the teen hero caught the villain by his arms, yanking him forward so that he hit his head on the railing before him. “Let her go” Peter growled, advancing towards the man to perform another attack.

“Not until I get what you promised me”

Peter yanked him forward again with gritted teeth and fury in his eyes. “I said, let her go”

He made a move to step forward, only stopping at the sound of a blade being drawn and a gasp falling from your trembling lips. A man, most likely a follower of the leader, stood by you, a silver blade pointed to your side, as Peter held the man unsteadily in his grip.

“Make one more move and she gets it” the leader spoke, a smug tone seeping into his voice. The teen could do nothing but analyse the situation, for him, there was no way out of it. One step or false movement could end your life, could end his own. You were his everything.

It almost seemed like all hope was lost, when the sound of a blaster charging up tickled the tips of Peter’s ears, diving away, he narrowly missed the beam of heat energy that Tony’s protective armour released. There was a mumble of‘go get her kid’ from the older superheroes blast.

Launching himself at the chair you were bound too, Peter was mere seconds away from being reunited with his soulmate. All he wanted to do was gather you up and bring you home, whispering sweet nothings into your ear but he was soon stopped by a certain feeling. The feeling of pain.

It bloomed to the right of his abdomen, like a bright flower at the beginnings of spring, except more excruciating, more deadly. The teen boy fell to the ground, his eyes screwing shut and as soundless scream passed his lips. His fingers that prodded at his stomach felt no blood, but the sight he saw when looking up was even worse.

You were slumped forward in your chair, eyes wide with shock, body frozen with fear as a crimson patch grew from the point at which the blade had cut you. Your eyes fluttered open and closed as yells of your name passed from Peter Parker’s lips. He could feel it, your pain, your fear, anxiety because,

You didn’t want to die.

And he could feel that.

And even as the teen begged you to stay awake, begged you to keep your eyes open and stay strong for him, he knew he was fading away into a dark, black abyss as well.

Maybe it was the repetitive blip of the heart monitors or the bright fluorescent lights thank roused Peter, or maybe it was the wild thoughts and memories pumping through his brain that woke him up. He couldn’t tell.

With blinking brown doe eyes, he looked around, taking in the minimalist room. White painted walls, white bed sheets, white light light, white that. Everything was blank. The boy assumed he was in the hospital ward of the avengers compound, the IV drip in his hand giving it away.

His sweaty palms lay lightly on the crisp linen sheets, probably made of the finest material Tony Stark could find, as he tried to piece together bit by bit what had happened for him to wake up in such a way. The more he thought about it, the more scared, queasy and uneasy he felt because firstly, he didn’t know where you were and secondly;

He couldn’t feel your emotions, your feelings.

Quietly, The young Parker unhooked himself from the series of machines, bare feet padding out of his room and down the corridor as he narrowly managed to avoid bumping into Mr Stark and Aunt May, who were arguing with hushed whispers. That wasn’t important right now. Peter quickly gained access to your hospital room, with the help of Karen, his feet cold from the tiled floor, but the rest of his body warm from the fluffy PJS Mr Stark had left him with.

The boy hesitantly stepped into your room, that same heart monitor sound pulsing throughout the silence. Peter’s heart almost broke when he skim read your file.

[induced coma for stability]

Your operations were successful, you were going to survive that horrible wound but that didn’t stop your boyfriend, your soulmate from succumbing to the gray clouds of guilt. If it hadn’t been from him, you wouldn’t be in this mess, wounded with paling skin from blood loss. Your hair wouldn’t be tangled and dry, but instead bouncy and bright, your eyes wouldn’t have heavy bags under them, but would maybe have only one or two from your late night Netflix binge watches. Had he been earlier, none of these things would have happened.

Had he been earlier, You wouldn’t have almost died.

With shaky hands, Peter let his fingers brush over your hairline as he would when he held you close, his other hand interlocked with yours that lay bandaged at your side, and he leaned down with watery eyes full of regret. “I’m sorry” the bot whispered with a quivering voice, brown eyes shutting sharply to prevent himself from tearing up. Why couldn’t he have been earlier? “I’m so so sorry”

His eyes kept closed this time as he rested his forehead on his soulmate’s, whispering a thousand sorrows against your skin, barely noticing the way your smaller hand squeezed his.

To let him know, it was all going to be okay.

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thefreckledone · 6 years

Text

Satori (Between the Lines) - Part 1

Sakura’s hand fidgets around Ino’s as she stares up at the surprisingly nondescript building. It is a bit shabby, certainly not befitting the reputation spoken of among civilians in hushed tones.

Konohagakure Intelligence Division.

Sakura swallows and clutches tighter to Ino, willing herself to walk through the door. Why, oh why, does she have to be here?

“Relax, Sakura-chan!” Ino says, watching Sakura with those guileless, confident blue eyes. When she looks at Sakura that way, she feels like she can do anything. “You’ll be working with my dad most of the day and everything he does is boring!”

Sakura thinks back to whispers snatched among parents on the playgrounds and in the civilian markets, away from shinobi. It is surprisingly simple for a child enrolled in the Academy to eavesdrop on such adult conversations. In the moment, Sakura felt giddy, really feeling like a true ninja as she gathers information to share with Ino. Now, remembering the tawdry tales of severed limbs and hypnosis, Sakura regrets her eagerness.

She never expected to be assigned a field experience assignment with Konohagakure Intelligence Division.

“Sakura,” Ino says, taking in her stiffness and pallor. “Seriously, tou-chan has already promised me that he’ll keep an eye on you. You’ll just be sorting paperwork. You won’t be anywhere near the actual action.”

“Promise?” Sakura asks.

“Promise,” Ino replies, tucking Sakura’s hand into the crook of her arm and dragging her forward. “C’mon. I have to head over to my assignment too. Genma-senpai is surprisingly a stickler about punctuality. I don’t want him tattling to Mizuki-sensei!”

Somehow, Sakura’s feet begin to move and they pass through the heavy doors into the building. There is an artificial cheer about the place, an austere colorfulness perhaps sharpened by the lack of natural light. There are no windows, though Sakura didn’t really expect there to be any. The halls are silent even as they pass by people. Most wear masks and walk with a lethal grace. Some wear leather aprons and gloves. These Sakura turns her gaze away from. It is strange to see Anbu walking around beneath the florescent lights, as they so often work in shadows. Sakura and Ino head up a few flights of stairs, making their way into an open office space.

“Tou-chan!” Ino exclaims, releasing Sakura and bounding toward her father. They embrace, Inoichi chuckling as he ruffles his daughter’s hair. “I brought Sakura!”

“Hello, Sakura-kun,” Inoichi greets, reclaiming his seat and smiling at her kindly. Sakura has always liked Ino’s father, the laugh lines in his face making him kind. “I’m glad you were able to make it. Ino, I’ll see you at dinner. You should hurry along to your post.”

With one last squeeze of encouragement, Ino is gone and Sakura is left feeling bereft.

“Come with me,” Inoichi says, leading Sakura across the hall. They enter into a small, cramped room, furnished with a chair, desk, and stacks upon stacks of documents. They’re nearly swimming in papers. “Take a seat,” Inoichi says, taking pity on the girl. He sees the way she folded in on herself the moment Ino left her side. He waits for her to take a seat in the sole chair in the room before he pushes a large stack of documents her way. “While you are here, Sakura-kun, you will be sorting the missives that come in from our informants.” He points to the top left corner of one of the documents. “Feel along the edges there.”

Sakura does so. “There’s...raised dots?”

Inoichi nods. “Yes, that let’s us know which department the document goes to. Can you tell me the pattern on that one?”

Sakura concentrates, running the pad of her finger across the paper. “There’s a vertical line of three dots, followed by two single dots.”

“Well done, Sakura-kun!” Inoichi praises, taking the file and discreetly double-checking it as he places it into one of the boxes. “That is the signature for the quartermaster.” He passes her a scroll. “This displays all of the codes as well as the departments each code is meant for. You will be sorting these during your time here. With the preparations for the chunin exams, we’ve become a bit backlogged. Take your time; there’s no need to rush.”

Sakura looks over at the large pile of documents, finding them quite daunting despite Inoichi’s encouragement. She picks up the next one, blinking as she realizes that she cannot read any of the text. The symbols are neither hiragana or katakana. They don’t even seem to be kanji.

It’s strange, especially as Sakura prides herself on being an excellent reader. Her bedroom stacked full of books and worn library card are testament to her love of reading. She’s one of the very few people in her class who can even read kanji.

“Yamanaka-san,” Sakura begins, voice barely above a whisper. Inoichi turns his attention her way regardless. “What are these?”

“Ah,” Inoichi says. “All of these documents are written in code to keep prying eyes from reading their contents.” Sakura flushes guiltily. “You do not need to concern yourself with that, just make sure they are sorted into the right piles and someone else will decipher the codes.”

Sakura nods meekly and takes a seat, running her fingertips along the next document. Two horizontal dots followed by a cluster of four all bunched together. She checks the scroll he gave her. “This is for the Council of Elders. Where do I need to place it?”

“Council of Elders: Shimura, Utatane, Mitokado,” Inoichi replies almost to himself, stepping away from her and rummaging around for a series of small boxes stacked upon each other. He comes back, placing down the boxes with a smile to Sakura. “This here is where you’ll place the documents once they are sorted.”

Sakura looks at the boxes, taking in the names that go alongside each of the individual boxes. She slips the document for the Council into their respective box.

Inoichi looks her over, making sure she’s settled. Sakura looks small, swallowed by the large chair and the disorganized pile of documents around her. Still, she seems comfortable enough, already running her fingers over the next document. “I have to get back to my duties,” he says, waiting until she looks up at him. “I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything.”

Sakura nods, watching as Inoichi leaves the room. Then she turns back to the documents at hand, a determined smile set upon her face.

It is time to get started.

“How’s your assignment going?” Sakura asks, passing Ino a bento box.

Ino sighs, showcasing stained fingers. “I think my hands are going numb from all of the polishing and sharpening I’ve been doing. Genma-senpai is a perfectionist, but now I know the right balance to both short and long form kunai and shuriken.” She changes the position on her chopsticks, holding them like a weapon. “I can throw a kunai perfectly now.”

“That’s great,” Sakura replies, as she finishes a bite of sticky rice. “Could you show me later?”

“Of course,” Ino says. “Tou-chan says you’ve been doing a good job with the Intelligence Division.”

It’s a leading statement, one that makes Sakura light up. “It was scary at first, but the people there are really nice.” She pauses, nose wrinkling. “There’s one lady, Anko-san, she’s kind of scary, but she’s also funny and secretly nice. I think she’s the one who leaves me umeboshi sometimes.”

“And how’s the work itself? Tou-chan said that you sort documents. It sounds kind of boring,” Ino says.

“No, not at all!” Sakura replies, emphatically. “All of the documents are written in code. All sorts of different codes. Remember when Mizuki-sensei covered cryptography?”

“My ears are burning!” a voice sings out behind them.

Both girls jump, turning to look at Mizuki who is crouched behind them, giving them a quizzical smile.

They are seated out on a grassy hill on the Academy property, where many students hang out between and after classes. It’s one of Sakura’s favorite places in Konoha, allowing her to look out over the downtown merchant section of the civilian sector. It’s comforting, as the Haruno clan has a shop among the section, run by her aunt and uncle. When her parents are out of town, being able to see the Haruno shop is soothing.

“Hi Mizuki-sensei,” Ino greets. “We’re just talking about our field experience assignments.”

“You’re working with Shiranui-san in the armory, aren’t you Ino?” Mizuki says, stroking his chin. “Sakura, you’re in the Intelligence Division with Yamanaka-san?” Both of them nod. “Cryptography, huh? You cracked any codes, Sakura?” His smile is kind and teasing.

Sakura bites her lip. “Not really,” she says. “I can tell which codes are the same and even the patterns, but not really any of the words.” That isn’t quite right. She has managed to decipher certain small words and even repeated code names but she has yet to figure out the contents of any of them.

“Well, if you want to get better at cryptography, there’s some books I can suggest for you,” Mizuki says. He has a soft spot for Sakura, the quiet, intelligent first-generation student studying to be a shinobi. There’s a common ground between them; she’s a younger reflection of who he once was, before all the destruction and pain.

“That would be great!” Sakura exclaims, grinning up at him.

“Just make sure to share any secrets you learn with me,” he says, winking.

She is almost vibrating wiggling with excitement and anticipation as they head back to class after Mizuki promises to compile a list.

It is time to get to work.

Sakura frowns down at the document before surreptitiously glancing up and around. No one is in the room with her, however, Sakura cannot help feeling a guilty squeeze as she scribbles something on her sheet of paper. She’s cycling through substitution ciphers, seeing if any stick.

The rest of her sheet is filled with blotted out letters, crossed out nonsense words that she attempted a variation on the same substitution cipher on. Cipher cracking, at least the process of learning it, is slow going.

This is a document for the Council of Civilians; Sakura assumes that it has the least amount of security when compared to the documents for the Hokage or clan heads.

There is a slight murmur and Sakura pauses, fighting to keep her expression neutral as a pair of conversing adults, both wearing gloves and aprons covered in a dark, viscous liquid, pass by. Once she is certain they are gone, Sakura returns to her paper.

Sakura’s guilt is assuaged slightly by the knowledge that deceit and deception are the bread and butter of shinobi. While many in Konoha are trained for full-frontal assault, the class of shinobi is dedicated to stealth and espionage. Konoha is still in the mindset of gearing students up to be soldiers, not shinobi.

Sakura does not want to have a career as cannon fodder.

So really, Sakura thinks to herself, this is just applied practice of the skills that will be vital to her one day. In fact, they may just be vital now.

Sakura’s victorious smile is so wide that it hurts her cheeks. This is the first time she has decrypted a full word.

At least, she believes it to be the intended word.

The encryption leaves no spaces between any of the letters so she’ll have to continue the process to see if the rest of the message aside from “Report,” makes sense.

Still, it is rewarding to see some progress.

With determination fueling her, Sakura sets to her task once more with fervor, silent room filling with the sound of her pen scratching away.

Sakura inhales deeply, settling further into her seat as she takes in the scents of old paper and warmth and coziness. The library is a second home to her, more so when her parents are out of town as they are right now. She rubs her fingers along the parchment within the book, enjoying the coarse texture of the heavy paper.

There are only a few people in the library at midmorning like this and Sakura likes the quiet. A couple of civilians and a chunin guard who is on break are the only other occupants of the library.

Sakura bends her head back over her book, picking up where she left off on scytales and their function within cryptography. Apparently, scytales fell out of fashion in Konoha during its early days, when the First Hokage ruled, but they are still popular in Iwa and Suna. She wonders if there are any scytales in the Intelligence Division’s storage or if she herself could create one. She wants to try it out with Ino.

The slight rustling of clothing draws Sakura out of her reading. She looks up, blinking as a boy takes the seat across from her. The boy is tall and lithe, wearing a partial mask that obscures his eyes and ears but leaves his nose and mouth clear. Between his dark hair neatly combed hair and mask, Sakura guesses that he’s an Aburame. She’s never seen him before, even though he’s certainly of age to attend the Academy, as all good clan children do.

“Hello,” Sakura greets warily, shifting her book closer to her chest. “I’m Sakura.”

He cocks his head to his side, assessing her. She can feel the weight of his gaze and she flushes. “I know,” he replies.

“You do?” Sakura asks with a frown. “How?”

“You come to the library quite often. Every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday at the very least, if not more often. I am at the library everyday; it was not difficult to observe the most frequent purveyors of the library, including yourself. I overheard the librarian say your name,” he says, a slight smile on his face as he gives the explanation. He doesn’t seem or sound smug, though Sakura cannot be sure.

“Alright,” Sakura says, bringing the book even closer to her chest. She isn’t sure how she feels about this, this invasion of her sanctuary. She hasn’t noticed the boy’s attention over the past months, but now, sitting in front of him, he doesn’t seem to have ill intentions. “Obviously, I have not been nearly as observant. What is your name?”

His smile widens. “What do you believe it to be?”

Sakura straightens up, putting the book down on the table as she chooses to engage in his offered game. It is her turn to look him over. “I know that you are of the Aburame clan,” she says, concentrating on him. As she pays him closer attention, Sakura hears the slightest buzzing noise emanating from beneath his skin. Her mouth pulls down into a thoughtful frown. Shino is already a host as well, but she has never heard him buzz like that. Perhaps this boy’s control is lacking?

“You don’t attend the Academy, even though you’re older than me. Did your parents choose not to enroll you? No, you are from one of the founding clans; all children are enrolled unless they are found to be lacking or dangerous to other students.” She hears the buzzing increase ever so slightly in pitch as a frown tugs away the boy’s smile. Got him. “You struggle to control your bugs, which is why you are not enrolled in the Academy.”

Sakura looks at the boy and, for a moment, she fears she’s overstepped. Then his scowl clears away and he begins to clap. “Bravo,” he says. “You may not yet be self-aware, but you do possess skills in observation. In time, you will hone your self- and situational awareness or you won’t make it far in this career. But still, you haven’t answered my question. What is my name?”

“The only Aburame that I have met is Shino,” Sakura says, pausing at the boy’s nearly imperceptible flinch. “Shibi-sama is the clan head,” she continues, again catching the way he flinches.

Whoever he is, he is much more closely related to the clan head than she thought. Sakura stops for a moment, closing her eyes as she pictures the genograms that they made in class a year ago. Sakura enjoyed making hers at the time, but the main interest in the class was clan children comparing genograms to each other, side by side. It was a competition of sorts for them, a measurement of how successful their clan was.

As such, Sakura made special note at the time of the genograms of the four noble clans of Konoha, Choji’s, Ino’s, Hinata’s, and Shino’s, as well as Sasuke’s genogram since the Uchiha ran the Konoha Military Police Force.

There is only one person this boy can be.

“You are Aburame Torune,” Sakura says, opening her eyes once more. “Shibi-sama has adopted you, right? Shino is your cousin and now adopted brother.”

He nods, a bright smile gracing his features. Her victory feels like a triumph for him. “Well done.”

“So why approach me now?” Sakura asks, looking at him with new eyes. Aburame Torune, the adopted son of the clan head. “You’ve been watching me for weeks, months even. What changed?”

He turns his gaze downward, embarrassed. “I just thought it was time to introduce myself.” His eyes light on her stack of books. “How is your study of codes going?”

“Well,” Sakura says, looking down over her selection of titles. Most are Mizuki’s recommendations, but some she has gathered based on citations within other cryptography books. Sakura has made a fine dent in the library’s collection and she believes she can finish them all within the next month. “I’ve learned transposition and substitution ciphers well; at this point, I can usually recognize them on sight.” She gestures down to her current book, on the history of subterfuge. “Now I’m getting some historical examples of steganography.”

Torune nods, though he doesn’t really seem to understand. Sakura doesn’t mind. In fact, she bites her lip, warring with herself for a moment.

“Would you like to go stick hunting with me?”

“Stick hunting?” he repeats, obviously lost. “Why sticks?”

“We need them to create scytales,” Sakura says, nodding decisively. She stands, packing away her things. “We’ll need to find three sticks of equal thickness. One for Ino. One for me. One for you.”

Torune’s responding grin is a breathtaking thing as his buzzing picks up in frequency. There’s something soothing, almost melodic about the hum. “Lead the way.”

The two children head for the door eagerly, leaving behind a neat towering pile of books.

Sakura keeps her concentration on the documents before her, ignoring the uproar outside the door. She is well-used to how loud Anko and her associates can be at this point and she barely flinches when they get started.

That is, until a large man barges into the room.

“Where is it?” he roars.

Sakura’s hand immediately goes to the kunai strapped at her calf, pausing as Inoichi charges in after the man. She keeps her grip on the kunai, watching, assessing as Torune often reminds her to do.

Ibiki stops, blinking at her. “Who are you?”

“Ibiki, I need you to calm down. This is Haruno Sakura, she’s the Academy student assigned to Konoha’s Intelligence Division for her field assignment,” Inoichi says, getting between Ibiki and Sakura, hands up in a placating gesture.

“I don’t have time to be calm,” Ibiki says, voice slightly lowered from the bellow it was but moments ago. He is huge and hulking, making the small room feel even smaller. He wears a thick black leather trench coat, one that is similar enough to the leather aprons worn by other Torture and Interrogation Force operatives: his job is obviously related to wetwork. The only aspects of him exposed, his face and hands, are heavily scarred. “I need a document right now!”

They both round on Sakura, looking at the stacks and stacks of unsorted documents.

“Which document do you need, Ibiki?” Inoichi asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I need Fox’s report on his infiltration of Kirigakure’s hunter-nin,” Ibiki says, cold gaze on Sakura. Sakura realizes with a start that the shininess of his leather coat is fresh blood. She turns her gaze down to the remaining documents, searching. “The report is for the Council of Elders.”

Inoichi glances at the boxes, sighing. “These things take time; everything is in code. Sakura-kun hasn’t sorted those—”

“Here!” Sakura calls, interrupting Inoichi in her excitement. She’ll be mortified later, when she’s out of the moment and aware of the possible ramifications of interrupting a clan head. She picks up the scroll, proffering it to Ibiki. “This is the document you need.”

Sakura’s smile fades at the stunned silence that greets her. Ibiki snatches the document from her, running his finger along the border to make sure it is addressed correctly. He squints at the document, frown making his scarring even more severe.

“I’m no code breaker, but I do recognize Fox’s unique handle here,” he tells Inoichi. He raises his eyes, locking onto Sakura. She swallows, tempted to duck her head and hide away. She resists, however, and stays steady. “How did you figure it out so quickly?”

“I’ve…” Sakura squeaks. She stops, clearing her throat. “I’ve been studying ciphers in my free time.”

“Since you started here.”

It isn’t a question, but Sakura nods anyway. “I wanted to do a better and more efficient job here.”

“That’s why Ino has a scytale!” Inoichi exclaims.

“I made one for her,” Sakura says softly. “We write messages to each other.”

Ibiki moves suddenly, striding forward and slamming his hands down on the table before Sakura. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from jumping. His face is impassive and Sakura bites down on her cheek until it bleeds.

Then, he grins, the pull warping his scars into an expression even more terrifying than his scowl. It looks uncomfortable on his face, as if the muscles are unused to it. Sakura gets the sad feeling that he doesn’t smile too much.

Inoichi makes a noise, as if he wants to interfere.

“There’s someone I want you to meet, girl,” Ibiki says, amusement thick in his voice.

Sakura, reading the apparent mischievousness in his face, gulps.

#my fic #satori (between the lines)#sakura haruno #torune aburame #sakura & torune #sakura & ino #ibiki morino

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iliketowrite1996 · 6 years

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Secrets and Spaces part 3

WARNING- Mentions of infidelity, emotional distress, arguing, fights, trouble processing thoughts and emotions, and anger.

‘’Excuse me?’’

‘’Nisa and Nyala will be sleeping here. At the palace,’’ T’Challa states again, as if you want to hear those awful words spill from behind perfect lips ever again.

‘’No.No, I heard you, but why is she staying here? There are plenty of other places for her and the baby to, T’Challa.’’

You’d even understand if only Nyala stayed here. But, no. T’Challa has the nerve to bring her, Nisa, to bring the alleged mother of his alleged child into your home.

Suddenly, she is invading every single one of your senses.

You can smell her perfume.

You can picture her sitting in T’Challa’s lap in the chair he is now taking up, her hands pressed to his chest as he presses kisses to her neck.

You can feel, practically feel, the metaphorical dirt and grime on the sheets, in the bed that you share with T’Challa.

The bed that you also shared with him.

You taste the bitterness of her words, of her tone, of her presence.

And the whole thing makes you feel ill.

Ill, and angry.

‘’No.’’

‘’No?’’

‘’No. She is not staying here. I don’t want her here,’’ you demand, crossing your arms over your chest.

‘’You really don’t get to make that decision,’’ T’Challa reminds you, eyeing you warily.

‘’And you did? Did you do this to save your reputation? Did you forget about your children? The three who are playing somewhere in this place who have already been through so much? The one who I am currently carrying for us?’’

‘’I… I did not think-’’

‘’Of course you didn’t, T’Challa. Because she was here and you were thinking about her and what she wants. Nisa,’’ you roll your eyes, ’’Her name is a bad taste in my mouth.’’

‘’I did this for us. Do you want her to spread this to the public before we have a chance to regain our footing and process it ourselves? Do you need her to stress you out in that way? You are pregnant. We do not want her to cause any stress for you or the baby, right?’’

‘’I want her out of the palace, T’Challa! Her being here is what is stressing me out, T’Challa! You know that I don’t trust her. You obviously did, though. Otherwise we wouldn't’ be in this situation,’’ you laugh bitterly, ‘’It’s her. It’s always her, isn’t it?’’

‘’What is that supposed to mean,’’ is voice is low, it’s cool.

It’s dangerous, and you don’t mind dancing with and on the border of truth and hurt.

‘’I guess I’m just asking this- should I expect Nakia to be showing up with a bundle of joy soon?’’

He blinks at you, hurt in his eyes.

And you know there’s a line that you are definitely very, very close to crossing.,

‘’We weren’t even together when this happened,’’ he reminds you, something mysterious cloud over his face, ‘’Who I slept with during that time is really none of your business, now is it?’’

‘’T’Challa, it became my business when she walked through that door with a child, claiming her to be yours! But I don’t expect you to understand’’ you stand, ‘’Now, I don’t want the children to worry too much. So,you are going to come to dinner with us, and we are going to act like a family.’’

It stings- it’s the same attitude that you had with the divorce where you had to pretend that it’s okay.

You were on a high, and now you’re right back at the start.

You exit his office them rubbing a hand on your stomach and desperately wishing you could change the past.

And you apologize to your heart, because here you go again.

Dinner is quiet, save for the children talking to you about their days. T’Challa won’t even look at you, and you can’t tell if it’s because you were wrong o because he regrets his decision.

Either way, it continues into the children’s night time routine, when you are undoing the braids in Adanya hair and brushing her hair out for three eight.

‘’Momma,’’ she states as she leans back, her elbows resting on your knees and head laying gently against your pregnant stomach.

‘’Yes, baby,’’ you ask, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

‘’Are you and daddy alright?’’

Adanya is very in tuned with other’s emotions, and it is both good and terrifying. On one hand, she can sense when someone is hurting and he's there for them. She will make a strong yet benevolent queen , you are sure of it.

Unfortunately, it is a gift that also makes it hard for you to hide things from her.

So, again, you water down the truth.

‘’Daddy and I are fine, love. We just are both tired. Today’s meeting and what was discussed took a lot out of us,’’you explain.

‘’So you two aren’t getting a divorce again? We don’t have to move again?’’

You pause your movements then, stilling the brush in her hair before getting your thoughts together.

‘’I can guarantee you this- no matter what happens, daddy and I are going to make things work out in a way that is good for you and your brothers, baby girl. We love you four, okay?’’

Even if that means you have to take this ring off of your finger

T’Challa is a man very in tune with hs emotions. In fact, he knows that’s one of the reasons you fell for him- he wears his heart on his sleeve. He does not try to suppress his emotions. It's something you’d told him you like about him on your first date, after having been friends for two years.

Unfortunately, it’s also the reason that, six months into your divorce, he’d been on a business meeting with Nisa and ended up spilling his guts. She was there and she had a shoulder he could cry on. But, unfortunately for him, she was there, and she had lips that were kissable.

And she wasn’t you, but she was in the mood for something casual. He craved affection and she needed attention, so they ended up in his chambers. Lips pressed together, hands roaming into places where they’d only ever touched you for the last 10 years at that point, mind wandering off and thinking about how it was a one time thing.

T’Challa regrets nothing except for the fact that it was her, that he can't ever seem to be rid of her even when he so desperately wants to. He had let her go months before the two of you reconciled in an attempt to try again.

And, like a circle, here he is, here you are, here they are: Right back at the start.

‘’Are you sure you can do a paternity test,’’ T’Challa questions Shuri as he walks down the ramp of her lab with her.

‘’I am positive, brother, It may take me time to construct one, but I Will have it done by tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow evening at the latest.’’

‘’Thank you, Shuri,’’ he sings, ‘’I just want this whole thing to blow over.’’

‘’You don’t need to worry about this, T’Challa. You’ve got enough on your mind. I mean your fiancee’....’’

Right. You, his fiancee’, who shuffled off to bed as soon as the children had their nightly baths and were asleep. You who turned away from him, like you hated him.

He’s not sure that he could blame you if you do.

‘’Go to sleep, brother. You can sleep in my room if you’d like to giver a bit of space.’’

He thanks her and he doe just that, tossing and turning all night as he wonders about the answer to the question:

Is Nyala really his daughter?

Meanwhile, you are on the other side of the palace, lying awake and alone with your thoughts.

You can’t sleep, though, because she is in your palace. It’s the reason you more than agreed when your children showed up,asking if they could sleep with you instead of in their rooms. That is why Adanya is curled on T’Challa’s side of the bed, Abioye is cradled against your chest, and Ado is hanging almost off of the bed, sleeping just like his baba.

You’re lying awake, looking out of the window, trying to count the stars. They are as beautiful as your children, but as numerous your thoughts.

You just worked things out with T’Challa. You are set to get married in three weeks, wanting to be wed before the new baby comes and you do not have time to plan a wedding.

You rub your stomach, wondering how this baby is going to grow up in this mess if Nyala is T’Challa’s daughter, and how your three, lovely children sleeping next to you, who assume their dad is just busy in his office, are going to deal with it.

How is T’Challa going to handle this, along with the news breaking to Wakanda? This would be a scandal for sure. The elders already are not pleased with this turn of events, that’s for sure. Neither is Ramonda, if her silence is anything.

You scroll back and look at the message that T’Challa left on your kimoyo beads: ‘’Shuri is designing a paternity test so that we can figure this out as soon as possible. Sleep tight. I love you.’’

You shut them off for the night them placing the bracelet on the nightstand, careful not to disturb Ado, and then pull him back onto the bed, covering him with a blanket.

And you try to get some sleep.

Because this may be the last night of peace you have before everything changes.

It happens when Ado and Adanya are at school and a nurse is taking care of Ado. Nisa is standing across from you, Nyala balanced on her hip and playing with her doll, oblivious to the battle that is going around her.

You are next to T’Challa, but only physically- you two did not speak this morning, whether from your own stubbornness or his pride, or vice versa.

Nisa certainly picked up on it.

‘’My king, what is the matter? Do you need me to do anything for you?’’

‘’You could’ve never come here in the first place,’’ you grin in fake cheer, rubbing our stomach, ‘’That would’ve helped.’’

‘’Is that any way for you to talk to the mother of his child,’’ she sneers at you.

‘’I’m the mother of his children, too. Or have you forgotten about that’’ you raise an eyebrow, and T’Challa has to place a hand on your shoulder to calm you.

Amazing how that works after more than a decade together.

‘’Ladies, please. Nisa, do not talk to your future queen like that. My love, don’t engage with her. Don’t stress.’’

She scowls at his hand on your shoulder but drops it, fussing over Nyala and her hair and clothes instead.

The baby is giggling, and you feel sorry that she’s been dragged into this whole mess. You can only imagine that Nisa feels the same, but you don’t have time to ponder that right now.

You’re just glad that this whole nightmare is soon to be over.

The doors to the throne room open, and in comes Shuri, her paternity test in her hands.

‘’What is this?’’

‘’You claim that this is my child, Nisa. Did you really think that I would not want proof?’’

‘’My word is not proof enough for you,’’ she questions, like she didn't have the gall to break his heart before.

T’Challa is trusting, but he’s not dumb.

‘’I don’t want her to do this paternity test. She is your sister. She may lie about the results.’’

‘’Are you questioning my integrity or m technology,’’ Shuri snaps, and you know she’d be far more offended about someone questioning her intelligence and technology, ‘’Either you agree to this, or you have to go somewhere else. Then, the news will break to all of Wakanda, and you’ll have to deal with that. Your choice. I could go back to my lab and then go spoil my nephews and niece.’’

You’ve never been more grateful for Shuri.

‘’Well, get ready to spoil another niece,’’ Nisa hisses, let’s do this.

The paternity test will take 24 hours. That’s what Shuri says at least.

So it is another grueling and agonizing twenty-four hours where you must keep this news from the children, pretend that it’s okay, and be nice with T’Challa although all you want to do is force Nisa out of your palace.

But here it is. The elders, you, Ramonda, T’Challa, M’Baku, and Nisa are all gathered here, waiting Shuri.

The doors open up and it seems like the longest wait of your life as Shuri begins to read the results.

‘’I have here the results to the paternity test,’’ she gives Nisa a look then shoots you a glance.

She opens the envelope, and you prepare for the answer.

And whatever it is, you know you’ll have to deal with it.

Because there is no way that things are going back to normal.

‘’The paternity results state, T’Challa, that-’’

There’s no turning back now.

DISCLAIMER- I OWN NOTHING BUT THE PLOT, NISA, NYALA, ADANYA, ADO AND ABIOYE AND THE NEW BABY. ALL MARVEL CHARACTERS AND THEIR FICTIONAL WORLDS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS.

@soulmates8 @airis-paris14 @greenswishbish @chaneajoyyy

@afraiddreamingandloving @halfrican-heat @sisterwifeudaku @greenswishbish @airis-paris14 @90sinspiredgirl @shesakillerkween @myboyfriendgiriboy @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @afraiddreamingandloving @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @niecey4cocaine @chaneajoyyy @halfrican-heat @bezzywazhere @melaninmarvelgirl62 @hutchj @chaneajoyyy @ashanti-notthesinger @niecey4cocaine @melaninmarvelgirl62 @skysynclair19

#t'challa x reader #reader #tchalla x reader #reader insert #black panther x you #t'challa x you #shuri black panther #shuri udaku #black panther imagine #imagine #imagines #t'challa #t'challa udaku #ramonda udaku #ramonda

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weirdponytail · 6 years

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“The Lucas Problem” pt 1 (Huntik Fanfiction, SnT drabble)

(A/N: Part one of that Lucas drabble I’ve been bashing out. Everyone is a little OoC, Lucas is a rude and grumpy jerk, and Zhalia sets him straight about toying with the Fears brothers abandonment issues. Dante is just as protective of the brothers as his girlfriend is, and Lok and Sophie take their roles as ‘big happy family don’t mess with us’ quite seriously. Feel free to critique the parts with the Casterwill team, I’m still very shaky on how to write them. :3 cheers!)

THE LUCAS PROBLEM

It was a rather crowded week at the Venice Casterwill Townhouse.

See, there had been a bit of emergency remodeling at Dante’s house. The various attempts by Blood Spirals to break his home defenses had, in a final cosmic act of petty vengeances after their defeat, managed to collapse the shields two weeks after the defeat of the Betrayer.

And it also collapsed part of the plumbing. So until further notice, Dante and Lok were crashing at Sophie’s place.

To make it even more crowded, not to mention slightly awkward for Harrison, Zhalia had appeared with the Fears boys. She had an order from Foundation HQ to move out of her apartment because of multiple threats on her and Harrison’s lives. Due to a few being anonymously sent from what appeared to be low tier Casterwills and even a few Foundation foot soldiers, not to mention the remaining Blood Spirals, the former spy thought it best to take refuge with the actual Casterwill leader.

With Sophie’s influence and protection, Zhalia would actually sleep a little better than in a hotel, knowing that any carried out threats from Casterwills would be met with something they feared worse than death: Excommunication. Harrison would be safe with the team and Zhalia watching him until they found a suitable apartment that would quickly be rendered safely invisible via ‘Does Not Exist’ Foundation blacklisting.

Then Lucas showed up, Dellix and Lane at his heels. “Family time,” he had said. Though honestly, it looked as if one of the other Casterwill elders had pinched his ear and told him to get to know his sister a little better now that they weren’t in danger of being shot at every few minutes. Seeing as Sophie hadn’t heard a word from her brother since the final conflict, it came as quite the surprise.

The team had all groaned a bit when they heard that Lucas was going to be around. Sure, he was a little more tolerable than when they first met, and everyone was quite fine with Dellix and Lane hanging out, but Lucas was still just a tick below insufferable in his high and mighty attitude. Even Sophie was nearly fed up with him by the third day of his visit, biting back some rather unladylike language she had learned from Zhalia whenever her brother sneered or commented on how LeBlanche’s way of cooking wasn’t exactly how a ‘proper Casterwill’ would have done it.

Poor Harrison and Den caught the brunt of the young man’s rudeness. Just bordering the edge of statements that the original Huntik team could justifiably call him out for, Lucas took nearly every opportunity he saw when around the boys to make snide comments about traitors and his team’s successes in hunting down the remaining Blood Spirals. Once he learned that they had grown up in an orphanage, instead of eliciting empathy as someone who had also lost both parents, Lucas seemed to view them with even more disgust than before.

Dellix and Lane, on the other hand, were near perfect houseguests. They helped with meals, joined in on any group activities the Huntik team happened to have going on, and were all around funny and enjoyable to have in the Townhouse.

‘The Lucas Problem,’ as LeBlanche had stiffly called it in a private conversation with Sophie one evening, reached a head by day four.

It was nearly lunchtime, and LeBlanche and Cherit had offered to make a refreshing summer meal for the group. Everyone else was gathered in one of the Townhouse’s split reading and media rooms. Dante and Zhalia were at one of the tables, scrolling through various activity reports and mission offers on their Holotome and Technomicon respectively. The younger two-thirds of the Huntik team was playing low volume video games on the massive TV that graced the wall above the fireplace. Dellix and Lane had taken the last remaining seats at opposite ends of the couch, cheering on whoever struck their fancy as they waited for a chance to swap in.

Lucas had decided to grace everyone with his presence half an hour ago, taking up one of the armchairs that tilted away from the television to read one of the Casterwill manuscripts he had dug up from the library shelves. Lok, ever good natured even to wet towels like Sophie’s brother, had invited Lucas to join them for a round but had been shot down more harshly than even Zhalia had managed before her betrayal. Dellix and Lane had quietly apologized, and soon it was all forgotten as the next match got underway.

Forgotten, that is, until it was time to pick a new game.

After three hours of Left 4 Dead co-op and verses, the play style was getting a little stale. Sophie opened up the cabinet filled to bursting with games for various consoles– all bought after much pestering from Lok and then Den later on– for them to peruse and was immediately mobbed by the Fears brothers.

“Smash Bros Brawl!” Den crowed, snatching the case from the shelf. “This’ll be great!”

Harrison shoulder checked his elder twin to the side, an impressive feat for such a boney boy. “No way! You know all the exploits!” He picked up the battered Game Cube case for the earlier version of the classic game. “Smash Bros Melee!”

Den’s eyes narrowed as he straightened from where Harrison had shoved him. “Brawl.”

Harrison bristled right back. “Melee!”

“Oh dear.” Sophie sighed. Lok grinned widely and patted the empty space on the couch beside him. “Here they go again.” The Casterwill heiress sat beside her boyfriend and leaned against his side. “You’d think they would have let go of this sort of thing after nearly killing each other.”

“Sophie, I gotta tell you.” The mirth was evident in Lok’s voice as the growled stand off between the twins grew to shouting. “When you actually grow up with a sibling…sometimes you don’t ever grow out of this kind of thing.”

“Hey.” Zhalia didn’t even look up from her Technomicon. It was nearly three weeks after the final battle with the Betrayer now, and she had learned to let Den and Harrison settle their differences in whatever way they saw fit. Taking sides or shutting their arguments down just led to miniature replays of the night the two had been separated, and brought up feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Letting the boys duke it out to vent their emotions over the trauma of the previous months ended up being the healthiest option she and Dante had found so far. “Keep it to an unpowered level, guys. I’m not cleaning up another busted window with you two.”

The twins grunted in acknowledgement and had the respect to place their argued game cases in the moderate safety of the cupboard…before launching at each other and ending up in a scrabbling knot of limbs and teeth and nails as they viciously wrestled on the rug in front of the fireplace.

Dellix and Lane had become used to the occasional spat between the two brothers during their visit. They sat back with Lok and Sophie on the couch, watching with amusement as the boys used every dirty trick available to them in attempts to gain the upper hand. The noise level increased exponentially, echoing down the halls and filling the room with mangled hybrid sentences of English and Dutch swearing.

All of a sudden, Lucas’s voice cut through the din.

“If you two don’t be quiet and act like civilized human beings, that woman is going to take you back to where she found you and bloody leave you there! I’m trying to concentrate!”

Lucas looked rather smugly satisfied at the abrupt silence his words had brought.

If he had taken the time to glance up from his musty old book he would have seen what a massive mistake he just made.

Den and Harrison had both frozen in place, wide eyes locked together in a look of shock and deeply ingrained fear of losing their home again. Sophie and Lok were both on their feet, and despite Lok holding Sophie back with a hand on her shoulder as she shook with tight lipped rage, the Lambert boy had blue sparks flicking off his clenched fist.

Dante’s glare was literally as powerful as fire. No one had noticed, but a tiny flame had burst to life on the table, which he had quickly smothered with his palm before turning his smoldering gaze to the elder Casterwill.

Even Dellix and Lane knew that their commander had crossed a line. The dark skinned swordsman subconsciously moved his hand to the sheath that rested against his knee, feeling the tension in the air thicken to a nearly unbearable level. Lane shifted uneasily as her fingers drifted to the amulet at her neck, ready to call Wildwood Druid at a moment’s notice if things seemed out of hand for her larger counterpart.

Zhalia had stopped at the sound of Lucas’s words, finger hovering over the final keycode rune to unlock the database entry she needed. If Dante seemed angry, then the woman across from him was at a level well beyond rage. She was at a point that surpassed any outward betrayal of the emotion, face deadpan as she slowly closed the lid of her Technomicon and stood.

Her voice, low and just barely containing the pure feral wrath that only Dante could feel rolling off her in heart crushing pulses, cut through the heavy silence like a razor bladed knife.

“Lucas. Sparing match. Outside. Now.”

Lucas waved her off, still engrossed in his book. The very idea of fighting Zhalia seemed to bore him. “I’m in the middle of a manuscript. Maybe later.”

The Casterwill elder let out a yell of surprise when an unknown assailant grabbed a fistful of his shirt on each shoulder and roughly yanked him over the back of the armchair, manuscript flipping from his hands and sliding across a nearby table. Dante wrenched the younger man around to bring him eye to eye, moving his grip to clench bunches of fabric so tight under his throat that it forced the Casterwill to lift his chin so he could keep breathing normally.

In an icy wave of realization, Lucas had the distinct feeling that he was looking a very angry, very protective, and very deadly lion in the eye.

And all that anger was focused on him.

“It’s rude to turn down a dance from a lady.” Dante growled. “But at any rate, she wasn’t asking, Lucas.”

A white steel sword suddenly appeared at Dante’s throat. In a flash Zhalia was at her partner’s side, and put herself between the bristling Dellix and seething Dante. Unafraid, she pushed the back of her hand against the flat of the blade, ready to deflect any ill-advised movement against her boyfriend’s neck.

“You had better put this away before I make you eat it, Dellix.” Zhalia’s soft voice held the fine edge of what was very much not an idle threat. “I’ve got nothing against you or Lane. I just want a chance to give your little leader a lesson in manners on the sparring field.”

“Oh, he’ll fight you alright.” The locked together foursome looked over when Sophie cut in. “Lucas, you went too far. This match isn’t a suggestion, it’s an order. From me.” Her green eyes flashed. “Dellix, Lane. Stand down. Zhalia and Lucas, you both have ten minutes to prepare. Meet in the courtyard and we’ll discuss the rules of the match. Dante’s referee.”

At the Casterwill leader’s command, Dellix stepped back and sheathed his blade, though a little reluctantly. Dante kept his gaze on Lucas for a long, tense second before shoving the young man back and letting go of his shirt.

As the Huntik team gathered itself up to head downstairs, Zhalia took a moment to slip past Lucas, getting very much in his personal space.

“I’m going to mop the floor with you, kid.”

Lucas was sure the woman had hissed those words in his ear as she passed, but hadn’t even glimpsed her lips moving. Despite the disturbing finality the statement had, he straightened his shirt and marched off to retrieve his amulets.

He was a Casterwill, after all. And no one would defeat him on his own ground.

(posting this on ff.net tomorrow morning because my eyeball is trying to explode. Friggin migraines, man...)

#huntik #huntik: secrets and seekers #huntik fanfiction #fanfiction #show not tell #lucas casterwill #zhalia moon #dante vale #den fears #harrison fears #lok lambert #dellix and lane #everyone has issues!#Zhalia just wants to beat lucas up tho #because reasons #mostly because he made den and harrison think they were gonna be dumped again #dont even joke like that man

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kikumerio · 6 years

Text

[fic] what you have tamed (kuraryou exchange 2018)

to: @swwyz from: @kikumerio notes: dear tsu, i'm sorry i couldn't get my fingers to run with any of your wonderful au prompts, but you did mention futurefic -- so i hope you enjoy this glimpse at kuraryou post-high school ;;; happy kuraryou day!

(read on ao3)

* * *

He can't count the number of times they've found themselves here, the last few weeks as winter comes to a close, lolling on the embankment, shivering in the crisp air. This'll be one of the last, he guesses. There's a faint sting to that, even though he knows it's not really the end. That something like what they've got doesn't just fade away.

"Really?" he's asking Ryou-san. "Nothing at all?"

"I've had other things on my mind." Ryou-san sounds totally disinterested. "For someone to keep my attention... that person would have to be exceptional."

Not the reveal he's – not pushing for, exactly, but half-prepared for. One of these days. But – that person. When Ryou-san says something, it's never an accident. There's a warm feeling in the pit of Youichi's stomach.

"I suppose you've put quite a lot of... thought into it." Bone dry.

Youichi shrugs. Ignores the innuendo. "Eh, you know. There's plenty of time, right? After graduation. College. After that. What's the rush?"

Silence, and then a cool hand covers his forehead. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Peachy," Youichi says. Bats at Ryousuke's hand, as his heartbeat gallops in his ears.

"A fever? Possession? Body swap?"

"This isn't a horror story, Ryou-san."

"Hmm."

Youichi settles back into the grass. "I just think, you know. The right thing is worth waiting for."

"How romantic." Sharp, needling. Ryou-san's way of showing fondness.

Youichi smiles at the sky. "Sure," he says. "If you want to put it that way."

* * *

Youichi didn’t even notice at first, was the thing. At first, right after the third years had graduated – and he’d think of them as "the third years" for a long time, long after he himself moved up to 3-B – he and Ryou-san kept up a pretty steady stream of messages, trading news from the high school baseball circuit and reports on Kominato junior for stories about college life. Sometimes they'd text back and forth about the same big game on TV, kind of like they were watching together, almost.

Around the end of Ryousuke's second term at university, just as Seidou bowed out of the fall tournament and Youichi started to come to grips with the fact that his last high school baseball game had been three months ago, enough of the old team came home for the holidays that they had a meet-up, the first since Spring Koushien. Tetsu-san came by Seidou every so often to keep an eye on Little Yuuki, but Jun-san was back from Osaka, and Fumiya from Hiroshima, and even Chris-senpai was home, patient as ever as he was pelted with questions about California. And then suddenly between one breath and the next there was Ryou-san, smiling tranquilly next to Haruichi, and Youichi thought his face was going to burst from grinning so hard.

It must have begun after that. Youichi went home for New Year’s and squirmed as his mother ruffled his hair extra hard every other minute, her way of saying I can't believe you’re graduating. Haruichi sent him a picture of the Kominato family lined up at their local temple, Ryousuke’s hair short and windblown. Looking at them next to each other it was impossible not to see that Haruichi was a good four centimeters taller. Youichi remembered thinking it was funny that he didn’t hear anything from Ryousuke, but that was Ryou-san for you. He texted him anyway.

hppy new years partner

And after a minute: Happy New Year, Kuramochi.

Then there was the final push for exams, even though they didn’t really matter with a recommendation from Coach and his college offer in hand, then the scramble to do the rounds of goodbye parties and pack up and move into the baseball dorm at Hosei, the grueling first-year hazing-we-mean-training-camp, attending obligatory Spring League games to cheer for his new senpai, dragging himself to lecture whenever he could manage between three-hour sessions of morning and evening practice. And Ryousuke—did he have exams? He must have; it was the end of the term, and he wasn't texting Youichi at all.

In the middle of the summer heat, Seidou made it to Koushien for Sawamura and Furuya and Haruichi's last hurrah. Youichi couldn’t make it all the way to Kobe during game weeks, but he knew hell and high water combined wouldn’t keep Ryousuke away. tell the kids hi for me, he texted.

He never got an answer, which he didn’t realize for a while, because then the Fall League was on them and Youichi woke, slept and dreamed Big Six games for eight brutal weeks. They beat Meiji but lost to Waseda, and then to Rikkyo – embarrassing – coming a respectable second overall. He was so exhausted by the end of the league he barely had the energy to read the congratulatory messages he did receive, much less notice the ones he didn’t. Then a lackluster nod at studying with his freshman teammates, who were all in the same classes, and then it was the holiday break, again, and Youichi went straight from the end-of-season drinking party to his dorm room and slept for eleven hours.

He truly rejoined the world of the living sometime around the day after that. The sun was out, so Youichi wandered outside to bask on the steps outside the dorm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just... not done anything. He had a date with his PS3, just as soon as he could get himself to move again. He scrolled through his neglected messages instead, squinting against the glare. 31 new notifications. His mother, Haruichi (what a dutiful kid), Shirasu (huh), a text chain started by Sawamura entitled holidays?? that looked like a roll call of who’d be around for New Year's and included a pointed are you reading this Miyuki kazuya???

Youichi snorted. No answer from either Kominato, though presumably the younger would be there. Actually, there was no reason the elder wouldn’t either, even though he hadn't been around lately, not since – And all of a sudden Youichi realized the last time he’d seen Ryou-san face-to-face had been over a year ago.

It threw him, for a minute. But no time like the present. He opened a new message.

hey ryou-san!! long time no see. got some free time? wanna meet up?

It had been almost two weeks since the last time they'd texted, desultory complaints about the snowstorm rolling through Tokyo. Ryousuke would be an upperclassman soon; he’d said something about choosing seminars. Sure enough, when Youichi finally got an answer, late that night, it read, Ah, I’m a bit busy right now. Rain check, please.

np gimme a shout when your free!! hows school?

Ryousuke kept read receipts on. It gave Youichi two days to wonder before he got an answer.

Going. Stay warm out there.

Youichi couldn't put a finger on what exactly made him feely itchy and uncomfortable. So he ignored it. He'd cracked the starting lineup midway through the league and he couldn't let his practice schedule slip if he wanted to stay there, even for a couple days. Plus he had plenty of other shit to catch up on – violent manga to read, games to play. He wasn't going to let this get to him.

thanks ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ btw made the starting string. when are you gonna come to one of our games?

This time, four days went by before he got a single, completely unrelated message: I suppose you've heard about Fumiya's latest.

Even then, it took a couple hours before Youichi got it, until Sawamura—fucking Sawamura—texted him a picture of himself and Furuya and Haruichi and Ryou-san at—they were at Seidou, on the practice grounds, with Yui and Little Yuuki and some vaguely familiar faces that must be their underclassman. oniisan came to visit!!!!!!! the text said, and that was when Youichi realized Ryousuke was doing it on purpose.

* * *

He didn't expect it so he didn't have any defense. Just hurt – dumb, animal hurt, the kind where his body didn't know whether it wanted to lash out or curl into a ball whimpering to protect himself.

He was—supposed to know. Ryou-san wanted him to know. Wanted to hurt him.

Ryou-san hurt people on purpose, sometimes. But he'd never wanted to hurt Youichi.

That was the thing. Ryou-san hurt people, if they did something that made him think they deserved it, but not his people, not Haruichi or Youichi or Jun-senpai or even dumb, lovable Sawamura – not unless something made it unavoidable. Youichi didn't think he'd done anything to deserve it. He hadn't had a chance. So it was unavoidable. For whatever Ryou-san wanted.

Youichi didn't have the right kind of brain for these kind of games, always guessing one step ahead of one step ahead. But he knew Ryou-san. He knew how Ryou-san expected this to go down. Youichi would be hurt, confused (check); he'd pull back, bury himself in baseball. Like he always had before. The distance would grow, the noncommittal texts – We should get dinner soon or Let’s hang out when you’re not so busy – slowing to a trickle, lip service, greetings on birthdays and Haruichi going pro, until the reason for the distance was forgotten and Youichi was left with a mild wistfulness and some fond memories. And in a few years they'd finally meet up for a Seidou reunion and Ryou-san would show up with some boring guy and introduce him as his date and smile, like Youichi was supposed to be surprised, like he didn't know –

He swiped a hand across his face, blinking back furious tears. Fuck that. Fuck Ryousuke. Youichi got to his feet.

"You-san?" Haruichi's voice was fuzzy, like he had a hand over the receiver; there was laughter in the background. "What's wrong?"

Youichi said, "Give me your brother's address."

* * *

He was lingering by the bicycle bay, the sun down and twilight shading the rusty light into grey, when Ryousuke came back to his apartment building.

Turned out it wasn’t that far away; twenty minutes on the Toei Line. For the last year, or more, they'd been twenty minutes apart. Thinking about it made the pressure in Youichi's head increase, something tight squeezing around his temples.

He knew it was Ryousuke the moment he turned on to the street. He hadn't changed in the ways that mattered. Perfectly self-contained, not a movement out of place. Smaller than Youichi remembered. It made his face heat and his throat prickle, anger and confusion warring with dumb canine instinct, Ryou-san, it's Ryou-san.

Ryousuke was working on his thesis proposal – Youichi knew that much, from the little he had been allowed. Something something economics. He was probably coming back from the library; he had a laptop bag over one shoulder and carried a paper bag bulging oddly with book corners. When he reached the bank of mailboxes, Youichi moved out of the shadows.

Ryousuke glanced at him. Then did a real, actual double-take, which would have been satisfying enough to defuse the entire conversation if Youichi weren't still so angry he couldn't see straight. Ryousuke didn't move, arrested two steps from the door, and Youichi could almost see him weighing it—walk right past, go inside, deliver the killing blow right then, or—

"Hello, Kuramochi," said Ryou-san.

No one else said his name like that. Like Ryou-san was rolling it around on his tongue, tasting it before he let it go. Like it was special.

Youichi said, "I guess you think I’m real stupid or something, huh."

Ryousuke's face gave nothing away. "And, I mean, maybe I am. I didn't even get what you were doing until yesterday. How long've you been working on this?"

Ryousuke didn't answer him. He turned away and moved toward the front door. Youichi thought with a sick sort of anger that now Ryousuke was going to try to ignore him, now that he knew Youichi was going to push him for answers and not just whimper for mercy. Then he saw Ryousuke was holding the door open.

Ryousuke said, "If you want to do this outside, by all means."

It was the cool voice that meant if Youichi wanted to drag him into such a mess he’d put a short and bloody end to it. Fine. Fine. He was Kuramochi Youichi and Ryou-san could fucking bring it. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stomped inside.

Ryousuke's apartment was on the second floor. Even in the middle of anger, Youichi couldn't help casing the place, trying to drink in as much as possible, as he always did with the rare insights he was allowed into Ryou-san's privacy. It was a simple studio, five by ten maybe. It couldn't have been much different from Youichi's suite, but it looked bigger, somehow. It was definitely cleaner. The desk was neat, the bed made up and tucked in a corner. A single mug was drying on a rack across the sink. No plastic bags bulging with empty cans leaning against the cupboard, no drying laundry strewn over the fold-out table and chairs.

Ryou-san took a position by the window, one hand resting lightly on the back of a chair. Kuramochi leaned against the tiny fridge and folded his arms.

He knew Ryou-san could wait him out, so of course then Ryou-san had to throw him by breaking the silence. "Congratulations."

"On what."

"Making the first string."

Youichi bit the inside of his mouth in an effort not to say I knew you read them, playing into Ryousuke's hand, again. Because of course he already knew that, that was the whole point, and Ryou-san knew he knew, and he knew Ryou-san knew, and – he hated this. He hated it.

With that eerie Ryou-san trick of reading his mind, Ryousuke said, "I don't think you're stupid. You understand perfectly well, don't you?"

And there it was again, the rage flaring behind his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I understand what you're telling me fine. You made sure of that."

"I've always thought it's best to be straightforward."

Youichi snorted, loudly. Sure, Ryou-san was straightforward, sucker punching you in the front to distract you from the knife in the back. But it wasn't worth arguing. Ryousuke didn't look the least bit affected by Youichi's scorn; he still emanated perfect composure, that hint of the smile you knew was there even when you couldn't see it. Youichi said, "You still think I'm – you think I don't know why."

"Why I don't feel like talking to you any more?"

"Why you want me to think that!" Youichi's voice shook just a little, god damn it.

"We're not in high school any more, Kuramochi." How childish, Youichi heard.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ryousuke's voice sharpened. "This is what happens. People grow apart."

"So, what, you should just give them an extra shove?"

"Why waste time?" He knew Ryousuke was doing it on purpose, he knew Ryousuke knew all his weaknesses, and it still hurt. "Things change. Friendships die."

The blaze of anger flashed through Youichi like lightning. "Who said anything about friendship?"

You wouldn't see it, probably, if you hadn't spent years learning Ryou-san's tells, how to communicate when words would have been too slow, attuned to every slight movement that might get the ball in your glove a hundredth of a second faster. Ryousuke's hand was still where it rested on the chair. His whole body was still. The stillness of a predator, or prey.

Ryousuke would deserve it if he weaseled out and went for some bullshit about partnership or brotherhood. But that wouldn't get them anywhere, and Youichi wasn’t here to score points. He didn't know what he was here for, exactly, only that he’d been waiting for it for a long time.

He'd been waiting, and now the pitch was coming. He couldn't fuck up now.

"I don't—you know I'm not good at, at subtle stuff. But I'm not stupid. I always thought—after a while we'd figure it out, you know? Whatever it is. Maybe—maybe not for a few years, maybe not for—I don’t know—but I always thought... I knew, okay? You made sure.” He took a deep, shaky breath. "So don't try and tell me this is, we're, that it's just friends. I know it's not. It never was."

Ryou-san just – looked at him, a look Youichi hadn't seen in a long, long time; like Ryou-san was reassessing everything he'd known about him. That hurt in its own way too.

“What did you think I was going to do, anyway, just—let it happen?” Ryou-san didn't say anything. Youichi's voice dropped, and to his own mortification he heard a helpless, plaintive note in his own voice. "I thought you knew me better than that."

That was the thing—the worst thing. That he’d thought—he’d known Ryou-san didn't see him the way other people did. Ryou-san didn't treat him the way other people did. Ryou-san got what made him tick and what lit him up and exactly how to take him apart. But despite all that, he still didn't get this, this most important piece. He still thought Youichi would let him down.

Ryousuke finally spoke. "I guess neither of us know each other as well as we thought."

The blood pulsed in Youichi's face. "Speak for yourself. I know you just fine."

"Do you?" And there it was, the first flash of the smolder that Youichi knew was there, always, like a forest fire in winter.

Youichi held his ground. "You bet I do."

"People change, Kuramochi."

"Not that much."

"We've barely spoken in months."

"And whose fault is that, huh?" He pushed himself off the fridge and crossed the room, just six steps, fists balled at his sides. Close enough to see Ryou-san's chest rise and fall, perfectly controlled. Close enough to touch. Whether to slug him or—

"Ryou-san," he said, as quietly as he could. "Don't do this to me, come on."

Ryousuke spoke to some point past his ear. "You seem awfully sure this is about you."

"I don't know what you thought I might do but—I wouldn't. I won't. I swear."

Ryousuke finally looked him in the eye. "Is something wrong with your hearing, Kuramochi? I said it has nothing to do with you."

"Bullshit," Youichi started to snarl, then pulled himself up short. Think, Youichi. What had he just told himself? Punch in the front, knife in the back. Right.

"Fine," he said. "'S not about me.' He saw it flash across Ryou-san's face, disappointment that he'd been right all along – like now he got what he'd been pushing for, he'd secretly been wishing he wouldn't.

"What do you think you're gonna do?" Youichi said.

Ryousuke's face froze.

"Cause whatever it is. You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, Ryou-san."

Ryou-san wasn't moving. This was it—his chance, now or never. He took took two more steps. In arm's reach now.

"You can have anything you want. As much as you want. You know that, right? You’ve gotta have known it."

The good thing about Ryou-san was also the bad thing about Ryou-san, which was that once he got the bit between his teeth he would run with it until he dropped. He was a fighter; it was one of the things Youichi liked so much about him. Only this time Youichi was pretty sure he was fighting something that didn't exist.

"Any time since second year. All you had to do was say the word."

Two more steps.

Ryou-san smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile.

"What makes you think I want you," he said, cool as glacial runoff, the cool of a frosted drink on a hot day, a chill that made Youichi want to submerge his head and never come out.

How did he know? He didn't, he supposed. Other than that Ryou-san wouldn't be doing this if he didn't have something to be scared of.

That was when he saw that Ryousuke's hand, nearly imperceptible, was trembling.

It hit, a current of vindication and rapport and desire and tenderness all together, like something physical, pulling him in ten directions at once. He didn't know if he wanted to punch Ryou-san, or wrap him up or and never let go, or maybe fall to his knees, or maybe all of the above. It was even odds that Ryousuke would physically step on him, though, which he didn’t want–or maybe he kind of did? it was confusing—so he settled for taking the hand in his own, as gently as he knew how.

He knew that hand well. Smaller than his own, finely shaped. The most capable hand he knew. The baseball calluses had faded; a long angry paper cut ran down the index finger. He curled the strong, flexible fingers around his own. Lifted it to his lips and kissed the knuckles, once. Then he waited for Ryou-san to cut him off at the knees with a single word.

It never came. When Youichi looked up, Ryou-san's smile was gone and his jaw was clenched so hard the skin was white. His eyes were open, and looking at Youichi.

"Come on, Ryou-san," Youichi said again. Hoarse. "Give me a chance."

Ryou-san's voice was barely a whisper. "You don't know what you're asking for."

He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled over. Because—hadn't they just been over this? He knew Ryou-san. He knew exactly what he was asking for.

"Ryou-san. I'm here, aren’t I?"

It must have shown in his grin, because Ryou-san's face flashed irritation, before, unwilling, softening at the edges.

He knew that look too. That was the one that meant Even I didn’t know if you'd make that catch. You’ve managed to surpass my expectations this time. It meant, If I were a different person I'd say 'Well done, Kuramochi.' It was his special look.

He was still holding Ryou-san’s hand in his own. He squeezed it, gently. "Come on, partner. What do you say?"

Ryou-san said, "I suppose there are worse ideas."

Ryou-san's head tipped back. Youichi wasn't an idiot.

Ryou-san's lips were dry. One arm wrapped around his neck, one around his shoulders. Tighter, tighter. His arm slid right around Ryou-san’s waist. Perfectly sized to fit together. He'd known that, too, somehow. Ryou-san felt just right. Of course he did.

Ryousuke's mouth was soft—softer than Youichi had thought. And he had thought, deep down. There was a reason he’d never taken the girls in his class up on their hints, a reason he'd never taken anyone home from a group date. Waiting, all this time, for the time to be right. Until all of a sudden waiting wasn't enough.

He didn't know how far he could push, here. Funny, when he'd just pushed as hard as he could. Ryou-san made a dissatisfied noise. One hand clenched on Youichi's shoulder; body poised, held just centimeters from Youichi's, just far enough for tension to crackle in the space between.

Then – it was like an electric current, a shudder passing through Ryou-san's body, and then Ryou-san had one hand digging into the meat of his shoulder and the other wound in his hair and was molding himself to Youichi, going for his mouth like he was starving, like he'd been thinking about this for a long, long time.

Youichi caught him with both hands and hung on. No room to breathe, to think, just to take as much of Ryou-san as he could. To feel the sharp pain of a hand tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck, the fingernails digging into his shoulder, the hungry, urgent mouth.

Again, and again. He didn’t know how long it went on. He was struggling for breath, gasping – "Ryou-san," into his jaw, the side of his neck, the magic words, "Ryou-san—"

He felt Ryou-san's smile against his cheek. "No need for honorifics, Kuramochi."

"Look who's talking," Youichi managed, between deep, panting breaths. "That the best you can do?"

"What was that, Youichi?" Ryou-san murmured in his ear and Youichi thought he was going to melt down right there in the middle of Ryou-san's apartment. Ryou-san knew it, too, he had the most insufferable knowing smile on his face – Youichi was grinning, grinning so hard it hurt, in relief, in sheer happiness.

Youichi kissed him one more time, long and hard. Ryou-san might look unruffled to outside eyes, but Youichi knew better – the heightened color, the deep breaths, the disordered hair where Youichi had run a hand through it, gathering Ryousuke up toward him. Not that he had anything on Youichi himself. He knew he had to look like he'd just gotten run over, and it gave him a deep, satisfied glow. Bring it. He was ready.

Ryou-san was giving him a long, lingering once-over. Reading his mind again. "You’d better be prepared," he said.

"Hell yeah I am," Youichi said, maybe more fervently than necessary, because something in Ryou-san's eyes kindled, assessing. Youichi's cheeks were warm, but he refused to back down. Ryou-san wanted to go there, Ryou-san could take what he got.

"Hm." Ryou-san eased back down onto his feet – Youichi hadn't realized he'd been on his tiptoes – and smoothed his hands over Youichi's shoulders, patting them once, absent and proprietary. It lit up some sort of nerve center down deep in Youichi’s brain. He was ready, all right, eight days a week.

"Hm," Ryousuke repeated, pensive this time. "I suppose there's no way to avoid mentioning this to Haruichi."

Youichi's train of thought, which had been progressing in a decidedly non-little-brotherly-direction, pulled up short. "Huh?"

Ryousuke's lips made a slight twist of distate. "Haruichi had some words. About... Well."

Youichi laughed—cackled, fine. "I bet."

One eyebrow went up sharply. In anyone else that would be a pout. "Don't think you're getting off so easy, You-san. He wasn't terribly impressed with you, either."

Youichi couldn't help it. He ducked his head to steal another kiss, reveling in the way Ryou-san leaned up into it, leaned into him, didn’t hurry to let go. "I can handle junior," Youichi murmured when it was over, blithely ignoring years of evidence to the contrary

Ryousuke's shoulders quivered – with laughter. "Is that so."

Youichi was carried away on a tide of satisfaction, blissfully invincible. Nothing could touch him. "Sure. The Kominato whisperer. That’s what they call me."

"Do they," Ryou-san said, which, oops, maybe that one had been a mistake – no, that invisible smile was there, and –

"He can wait until I'm done with you," said Ryousuke.

"Sure," Youichi said, husky. "All yours, Ryou-san."

And you better not forget it again, he wanted to add, but from the tiny, tiny smile on Ryousuke's face, he kind of thought he didn't have to.

* * *

"About time," Haruichi sniffed, next time he met Youichi for fast food. "Honestly."

"A lot of help you were," Youichi groused, stealing a handful of his fries as punishment.

"If you can't solve your own problems, why should I be expected to fix them for you?" Haruichi pointed out, which was pretty reasonable, actually, except—

"I didn't know there was one! Which was what it was!"

He stopped to review his pronouns. Haruichi blinked at him. "You-san, are you skipping class again?"

"Shut up, junior," Youichi grumbled, and stole another fry.

#kurayouexchange #swwyz #kuraryou #daiya no ace #my fic

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wizardsnwookies · 6 years

Text

POTA080818 - Debates

“Well now, looks like you managed to get one of them at least.” Constable Murray motioned towards his deputy who eagerly took custody of the shackled man thrust towards him. “I’m assuming the rest didn’t come so quietly?”

“They put up a bit of a fight, but we managed.” Drenaris watched as the man was led inside the single holding cell inside the office. “Not much of a jail you have here.”

“Well, we’re not really the jailing type here.” Murray walked behind his desk and pulled out a small strongbox that rattled with the heavy weight of coin. “The people of Redlarch prefer a swifter more efficient justice. Usually that means either working the quarries or being fitted for a hempen necktie.”

Drenaris frowned at the small offering dropped into her hands. For four bandits it was almost laughable, had it not been for their collection of loot it almost would not have been worth the effort.

“That’s for three of them being dead mind you.” The constable noticed the slight frown, snapping the strongbox closed, just in case this stranger decided to get handsy. “I was pretty clear about getting them back alive if at all possible.”

Drenaris shot an icy stare towards Poh. If he noticed her it he didn’t seem to care what she thought of his actions, he was far too busy polishing his twin blades. “He mentioned a large group of them taking over Riverguard Keep. Know anything about that?”

“That’s news to me, ‘course there’s been a lot of stories flying around lately. Ghosts, plagues, masked strangers...then there’s all the excitement around the next caravan coming in. Everyone’s getting themselves ready, a lot of coin to be made.”

“It might be a good idea to have them taken care of then, I’d say.” Aviate’s didn’t bother insulting the constable with feigned coyness. He had seen quite a few lawmen in his day, and had developed a talent for sniffing out those few he would be wise not to trifle with. Constable Murray was one of those men.

“You go on right ahead, no one’s stopping you. I’m not giving you a copper in advance, and no more writs.” Murray nodded to the wagon, laden with ill gotten goods. “Looks like you made out well enough for yourselves. Bring me back some more to put to justice and you’ll be paid in kind.”

---

Aviate sat alone for a change. Poh had managed to slip out of the Tavern sometime between drinks, something that was becoming a bit of a regular occurrence. It would appear the creature was not one for company much. Meanwhile, Drenaris was up at the bar, questioning the innswoman about the rumors and whispers flying around town. After all, she was in the perfect position to overhear many a secret whispered a bit too loudly over a tankard...or several.

This left the pirate withe the perfect opportunity to inspect his custom order from the bakery. He almost felt sorry for having fooled the amazon. She was amusing in her own way, and certainly better company than the bird. However for now, he would let her go on believing that the two loaves of bread he acquired where nothing more than that.

Carefully he plunged a finger through the crust on one side, feeling for the waxed piece of paper carefully rolled and inserted before baking. Once the second had been retrieved he tossed the discarded bread into a soiled bowl on the table next to him that had yet to be bused and began reading.

Old maiden Mythera Madiver’s talking of seeing ghosts is a bunch of horseshit. An elaborate spook setup by goblins, nevertheless it must be dealt with.

Aviate snorted. He could have guessed that. He had seen a lot of things in his days, but an honest to goodness ghost was not one of them. He ignited the scroll on the candle in the center of the table while reading the second note.

Something’s going on in town. Can’t put my finger on what or who. All I know for sure is that someone or several someones are pulling strings from behind the scenes of recent events. Be watchful.

Interesting. Not quite the information he was hoping for but, it still warranted investigation. Unfortunately this was still his best, and only, source at the moment. He didn’t exactly have the luxury to pick and choose the leads he followed up on. But even as leads go, it was more vague than he would like. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, Drenaris was breaking with the innswoman and heading back to the table. Calmly, he burned the second note and wore a smile he wasn’t exactly feeling.

“Well?”

“Nothing we haven’t already heard from the constable, unless of course you want to go rescue a few whelps who got themselves lost hunting for a mythical treasure trove.” Drenaris slumped into a chair and took a large gulp of ale. She noted the absence of the bird and shrugged indifference.

“That might be profitable, if said treasure exists.”

“Mmm. I’m still of a mind to check out Riverguard. She we bother consulting with the bird?”

“I think we can guess his answer to be honest.”

“Blood first.” Drenaris nodded. “Either way, I think we should use some of what we earned today to buy a horse. We already got the wagon.”

“Agreed. A sound investment.”

“So is ale. Another round then?”

---

Three days had seen them on their way to Riverguard. Three days of relative quiet, broken only by the intrusion of an Ankheg into their camp one evening. Though eventually fleeing, it was enough to put all three off their nerves enough to pickup and resettle in the middle of the night, making the following morning quite difficult indeed. Though Aviate tried to hid his weariness with song, he felt as though he might sleep upright in the wagon with its gentle swaying.

“ -passion, and intensity. It is the very symbol of power and spirit that you only claim, yet have no right to.”

A muffled voice risen in anger sounded from around the bend in the road, waking Aviate from a light doze. Looking around he saw the sun was still high in the sky, barely hourse since they had left camp, they were nowhere near their destination.

“There is no physicality to the power you claim. Anyone who has swam in the bluest of waters can tell you the strength they feel pressing around them. The feeling of insignificance, of powerlessness in comparison to depths in which they are merely interlopers. And do we need to remind you that it takes but a bucket to extinguish your flame, yet no matter how hard it might try, water will never burn?”

The second voice was bolster with the cheers of others. There had to be at least half a dozen, perhaps more including the two arguing. By this point. Drenaris had stopped the horse to listen.

“What is that?”

“A debate, by the sounds of it.”

“Here?” Drenaris dropped the reins and leaped to the dirt road. Mindful of the loot stashed in the back, she was not about to bring the wagon any closer until this was investigated.

“You dare?! To extinguish the giver of life is liken to heresey. I should not be surprised your lot would be so ignorant and savage.”

Mounting the hill on the corner two groups lined the road ahead of them, two men standing dead center nearly close enough for an embrace, with nought but hatred in their eyes. Each was strangely garbed in thematic dressings. The elder of the two men whose voice roared like a campfire was dressed in heavy red robes embellished with embroidered flames of yellow and white. Behind him, his entourage was far more armored in glittering copper pieces over red tunics and trousers. The longswords in their hands continued with the dramatic themeing as magical flame danced over the steel which was somehow still a cool blue.

“Us, savages?! You people worship as liken to a noble’s wife, whatever glitters in your eyes, no matter how shallow and empty it may be.” The taller man opposite had a strange blue tint to his skin and was far less armored than their opponents. Instead he and his people chose simple netting with chest pieces and shields made of some kind of shell. Each one of them held a gleaming sword with a serrated blade constructed of sharkteeth. Water, being their obvious inspiration.

“Hey, can you guys argue somewhere else? You’re blocking the road.” It wasn’t meant to be a question as Drenaris’ stance not so subtly hinted. She was sure to thrust her chest forward, flexing the exposed muscles in her abdomen, arms akimbo to show off their thickness. No doubt, any reasonable man or woman would have let them pass. However, these men were not reasonable.

“Who are you to make demands of us? This path belongs to us, and now, so do you.” The sneer the blue man flashed revealed teeth that had been filed down to sharp points. Between the teeth, his tinted skin, and the dark, almost black irises of his eyes gave him the appearance of a shark walking upon two legs. He made to give an order before his arm was seized by the robed one.

“You? Have you forgotten why we are here in the first place? It is you who have staked a claim on our land. These three shall go with us and be taught the glory of the eternal flame, more allies against your mongrel band.”

Thus the argument began anew, insults and half formed philosophies being tossed back and forth with vigor and venom leaving the three otherwise ignored.

“FOOLS.” Poh mimicked.

“Perhaps that can be used to our advantage.” A wicked smile formed on Drenaris lips and she skidded her way down the slope with arms raised. “Gods, what nonsense is this? Clearly Flame is better, we’re going with them!”

“What??!” The shark man growled and all six heads of his followers shot in Drenaris’ direction. Their antithesis on the other hand, cheered in support.

“See?! Even one so common as this one can see the truth of the matter!” The flame priest took a step towards his opponent, emboldened by the sudden appearance of an ally to his cause. The tension between them had grown to an intensity that weighed heavily upon the travelers between them. Just one more push and the two sides would be at each other’s throats.

“Personally, I’ve always thought water was better.” Aviate shrugged, following the amazon’s lead. The result however, was not what was anticipated. The tension, while indeed had reached a breaking point, would explode unfocused dragging them all into one chaotic brawl.

“BLASPHEMY!!! KILL THEM ALL!!” The clash that followed was a whirlwind of fire and death. Steel struck out in every direction cutting both fire and water devotee with equal measure. In the end, the all bled the same color.

Poh was taken with a flaming bolt from a crossbow, as he fell to the ground he uttered a vicious curse to the one who had invented such a contraption that had taken him off guard twice yet. Aviate craned his head over the crowd, he had lost sight of Drenaris in the outbreak. Yet he could hear her. Grunting and bellowing as she swung her hammer, sending red men flying to the ground. Pulling out his pipes he played an upbeat tune to lift her spirits and inspire the battle fury within her.

Men and women fell to the ground with each passing moment, bolts of fire streaking through the air, serrated blades opening wide gashes and spilling intestine into the dirt. Back on his feet, Poh was carefully picking off stragglers from the edges of the scuffle. Aviate watched him with begrudging respect of his talents. He was agile on his feet, his blades knowing exactly where to bite to cause the most pain, both swords wielded with equal skill. Looking back over the battle, the pirate could see that fate had come to favor flame on this day, more and more netted and shelled corpses littered the land than red robes and burnt steel. Both leaders lie dead, one slaying the other and collapsing together in a heap. Aviate smiled, the whole thing reminded him of a good day’s boarding of a selected vessel. All that was missing was the sea air in his lungs.

A cry snapped him back to attention as Drenaris took a flaming sword to the back and fell to her knees. She had fought fiercely, and he could tell by the looks of the men who had been previously engaged with her, she had inspired a sort of terrible awe in them. Who was this woman who fought like one possessed? If they lived past today, there would be a myth whispered about her, this Aviate had no doubt.

With their companion slumped unconcious, Poh reassessed the situation. Aviate could see the gears turning in that little bird brain of his. His grip on his swords shifted, weighing his options, not quite ready to make a decision one way or another. Eventually, he must not have considered it worth trying to fight any further. He dropped his stance, relaxing his arms to his sides.

“HAIL FIRE!” He mimicked.

“Indeed, how foolish we were to ever doubt it. Please, if you but spare us we would sooner call you brothers than enemies.” Always quick with the charm and a flourish, Aviate dropped to a deep bow.

“Hmmph, and don’t your forget it.” A tanned looking woman sheathed her steel and callously stepped over Drenaris fallen body. “Very well, we have lost many today, worth it though it was.” She spit on the blue skinned man where he lay, crumpled on top of her commanding officer.

“Your companion, she will do well to follow your example when she wakes. Lest we have another body to burn on the funeral pire.” The woman eyed Aviate, he was stunned to see she stood a full inch taller than he. As such, her cold eyes cast downward at him. “Is that understood?”

“I shall slay her myself if need be.” His eyes snuck a glance towards Drenaris unconcious form. Self preservation was of utmost importance at the moment. Let them busy themselves burning their dead. In the meantime, the three of them would wait. Night was coming on, and terrible things tended to happen in the dark.

Buy Me a Coffee

#Dungeons and Dragons #role playing games #princes of the apocalypse #campaign diary

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mazurah · 7 years

Text

Lost in Time Ch. 1: Madhouse - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Story Summary: Fayrl Indoril, a Dunmer assassin from the second era, and Ma’zurah, a Khajiiti mage from the third era make an unlikely team, but when they find themselves thrown together in fourth era Skyrim, it’s all they can do to survive and figure out what in Oblivion is going on.

This is a fanfic adaptation of a roleplay between myself and @talldarkandroguesome. It is an attempt to expand upon the physical world of The Elder Scrolls, portray NPCs with three dimensional personalities, provide alternative and common-sense solutions to the problems of Skyrim, depict real-life consequences to trivial bits of Elder Scrolls lore, and create an emotionally authentic, character driven narrative all at once.

Will eventually contain mature content, including graphic depictions of sexual and violent acts–sometimes at the same time. Sorry, the Mephala worshipper insisted.

Chapter Summary: Fayrl Indoril is just taking care of business as usual when he finds a fork that changes his life and sends him on a journey he’s not sure he’s prepared for.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: G for general audiences.

Next Chapter

Lost in Time Chapter 1: Madhouse

Fayrl Indoril, scion of House Indoril, and unfortunate disappointment to most of his family, wiped his brow. It was unseasonably hot in Stonefalls, despite the usual Midyear weather, and Fayrl was eager to get his task over with. He heaved the burden he carried higher, and headed down the short path to the decrepit Daedric shrine.

Not quite six feet tall, the mer’s fine, but relatively unassuming clothing was compensated for by his elaborate makeup and overly complex hairstyle. Bard, devotee of Mephala, kinsmer of House Indoril, father, lover, husband twice over, spy and assassin, and sometimes working-mer-of-the-night; Fayrl was a complicated mer of many qualities, as many faults, and few scruples. He was currently in the process of disposing of the inevitable results of his own devotion to the Daedric Prince of Sex and Murder. He opened the door of the Daedric shrine, and heaved the body he carried within, closing the door afterwards and dusting off his hands.

He turned back to the road where his guar waited for him. He paused as something caught his eye. Why there would be a fork lying on the ground just outside a ruined Daedric shrine Fayrl did not know, but he was intrigued. The midday sunlight glinted off the iron metal. On a whim, Fayrl bent to pick the thing up.

Fayrl suddenly felt as though the ground had dropped out from under him. He flailed as he found himself hurtled through a seemingly bottomless abyss devoid of stars.

Just as quickly as the sensation began, it stopped again. Fayrl gasped as though he had just surfaced from a sudden dunk in a pool of freezing water. He glanced around himself, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. He was no longer in Stonefalls.

He was, apparently, atop a small stone platform with a flight of stairs leading down to a path lined with brightly colored mushrooms. Fayrl stood very still, watching and listening to discover if he was in any immediate danger. He relaxed slightly as the moments ticked by and no danger made itself known.

He glanced down at the fork in his hand. He was not sure what had brought him to this place, but the fork seemed to be the catalyst. He tucked it into the satchel at his hip, and took a more thorough stock of his surroundings.

The place seemed peaceful enough. The sides of the path were overgrown with enormous yellow mushrooms that reminded him of the Emperor Parasol mushrooms of Morrowind. The mushroom thicket was interspersed with huge vines and smaller mushrooms of bright purple and teal in every shape and size imaginable. He glanced at the sky and his eyes widened. The midday sun filtered through a fantastic array of yellow clouds that might have been at home in a whimsical painting by the more famous of the impressionistic artists of Tamriel. He had never seen the like before. The clouds seemed to sparkle at him crazily. He shook his head in bewilderment and cautiously started down the stone steps.

The path wound down, around, over, and under, according to the whims of nothing that Fayrl could discern. The brightly colored mushrooms towered over the path like trees. The air made the walk oddly pleasant, but Fayrl remained tense and watchful. He followed the path up a steep hill where the vegetation thinned, and paused to get his bearings. In the distance to his right, buried in the midst of the mushroom thicket, Fayrl could see a crumbling ruin overgrown with vines and moss. Ahead, down the path, he thought he could see wood and stone structures in somewhat better repair. He faded into the shadows and made his way towards them.

Approaching the structures, he saw that they were actually part of a small village comprised of about four or five buildings. There were people moving between the buildings, but they didn’t seem to be moving quickly. Fayrl made his way towards the nearest wall, keeping himself out of the line of sight of anyone observing. He wanted to see if he could overhear any information before he made himself known. He wasn’t even sure if these people spoke any of the languages he knew.

A Redguard with an affable face and a massive head of frizzy hair strolled between the buildings near Fayrl. He was dressed in bright purple finery that seems to be made of leather, and was studded all over with flat, round metal buttons. It looked, well, frankly, ridiculous.

Fayrl cloaked himself in shadow and followed the Redguard. He didn’t know enough about his new location to want to speak to anyone just yet. He had to learn more.

A door in the wall of the building closest to Fayrl opened, and a dour looking Dunmer emerged, dressed in what appeared to be an exact replica of the Redguard’s outfit, except in a hideous brownish-green color that did not complement the Dunmer’s skintone at all. Upon spotting the Dunmer, the Redguard sprinted to catch up to him and put an arm around his shoulders. The Dunmer recoiled.

“Felas! My friend!” the Redguard boomed in a loud, friendly voice. “I have an excellent idea for improvements to Passwall! What do you think of the idea of putting up a grand welcoming sign for new visitors!” The Redguard swept an arm out in front of him as though to illustrate his new idea. The Dunmer’s face became impossibly more sour than before.

That answered at least one of Fayrl’s questions. Cyrodiilic common was a language he was fluent in, so that much was good. He slipped around the building, to gather more information.

Around the corner Fayrl heard the unamused tones of the dour Dunmer arguing with the obliviously cheerful voice of the Redguard. Suddenly, another door opened, this time a doorway on the second floor of the building across the street from Fayrl with a wooden set of stairs winding around the building. A human woman with bright orange hair poked her head out and calls “Somebody stop that awful racket! Doesn’t that noise bother anybody else?”

Glancing around, Fayrl couldn’t see what she could possibly be referring to. It was sunny and calm, and other than the two conversing around the corner it was otherwise quiet. The door slammed closed, and the red haired woman came stomping down the creaky wooden stairs in a purple dress with absolutely ridiculous bustled skirts, apparently made of the same leather material as the Redguard’s outfit.

Something was definitely wrong about this place, although Fayrl couldn’t quite put his finger on what it might be.

The woman stopped at the foot of the stairs, and, before Fayrl could completely duck out of the way, she pinned him with an inquisitive stare. “What was that? Did you hear that?” Fayrl couldn’t quite tell if she was addressing him, invisible as he was.

Suddenly the Dunmer from before came barreling around the building in a tremendous hurry, shouting. “No! No! Absolutely not! Nobody move! I need a bath immediately!” The Dunmer tripped over Fayrl’s retreating form and landed in the dirt.

Fayrl froze, still invisible, watching the scene as it unfolded around him.

Yes, something was truly wrong with these people and this place. It made his skin prickle and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The people had a strange aura about them that made him question their sanity. He needed to get himself out of here as quickly as possible.

The red-haired woman rushed forward to help the Dunmer to his feet making noises of sympathy. The Dunmer appeared completely horrified to find himself on the ground and started flailing in a frantic attempt to get up. He knocked the woman backwards into Fayrl. Fayrl steadied her out of reflex, then slowly began to back away from the pair. Things were escalating quickly and he had a bad feeling about it.

Suddenly finding herself next to a strange mer, the woman turned to Fayrl with a broad smile. “Oh! Hello! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there! Are you new? I’m Nanette Don!” She paused and cocked her head. “Do you hear that sound? It’s like a horse dying…” The Dunmer finally succeeded in scrambling to his feet.

Fayrl nodded to the woman. He grappled with the urge to bolt. His nerves, which he usually had under strict control, were fraying. He took a deep breath and decided to be cordial.

He gave the woman a polite smile.

The Dunmer caught his breath and began shrieking and trying to brush off his outfit, then ran into the house across the street and slammed the door. The Redguard man, upon hearing the racket began strolling around the corner, and, catching sight of Fayrl, he sprinted toward him and shook his hand heartily. “Hello! Hello! Greetings! Goodness it has been awhile since we had our last newcomer! I’m Shelden! I’ve been here the longest, that’s why I’m the Mayor!”

Fayrl cleared his throat nervously. “Hello,” he said politely. “Nice to meet you, Mayor.”

The woman leaned forward and looked Fayrl in the face. “My, are you feeling okay? Would you like a drink?”

The self-proclaimed Mayor immediately seized upon this idea and looped his arm through Fayrl’s, happily exclaiming “That’s a wonderful idea! You simply must! Come I’ll show you to the Wastrel’s Purse! They have the most wonderful local brew there! I’ll buy you one! I insist!”

Fayrl nodded again, and swallowed. “That would be very kind of you, thank you.”

Every part of him was screaming that something was wrong. He needed to find a way out of here. Now. This was clearly some sort of prison. He had to get out soon, or he might end up like them!

He didn’t know how they would react if he tried to make a break for it though.

The two strolled on either side of Fayrl, chatting amiably about the lovely weather they’d been having lately, and how that was definitely a good sign, until they reached a tall stone structure on the other side of the small village. A sign over the door read “The Wastrel’s Purse” in Cyrodiilic lettering. The woman smiled and opened the door for Fayrl, and the Mayor tugged him forward.

Fayrl looked inside. He could see a bar across from the door and a couple of tables. A depressed looking Altmer lady stood hunched behind the bar, wearing a lovely pale blue and white dress with lace on it.

Fayrl stepped into the room, looking for exit points, and counting the number of people present. Already, he was trying to formulate the best plan of escape. Just where was he, and what was wrong with these people? It set his teeth on edge.

The Mayor released Fayrl and ambled up to the bar. The woman, Nanette, sat down at a table and looked at Fayrl, smiling expectantly. Fayrl sat down next to her automatically. In his survey of the room, Fayrl noticed that the windows all seemed to be too small for him to squeeze through. The only exits were the front door behind him, and a set of stairs leading upward from the corner. Movement from another corner of the room previously not visible caught Fayrl’s attention. A black and white tiger-striped Khajiit sat in the corner sipping a drink with her feet propped up on the table. She waved at him.

Fayrl examined the Khajiit. Her mer-like ears, still softly covered in striped fur, protruded from the sides of her head of wavy, silver hair. Thick though it was, her hair reminded him far more of the hair of other mer than it did most Khajiit he had met. Certainly, it was far finer than that of his own Khajiiti husband.

Her face was less feline than he had ever seen on a Khajiit that was not Ohmes before as well; it contained a mix of the features he associated with her kin and those of his own, though the stripes and short fur marked her as distinctively Khajiit. The pink of the tip of her nose and the blue of her eyes stood out from the white and black of her face vibrantly. She had a certain striking beauty to her.

She wore a set of pale earth-toned trousers and a vested shirt, with a scarf and an open robe over the top. Her feet–paws actually–were wrapped in thick canvas. Her clothing reminded him far more of that of the Ashlander tribes he had visited many times with his mother than it did of the usual budi garments of the Khajiit he had observed in the past, whether merchant, servant, or visitor. It was all a most unusual puzzle. Was she a Khajiit raised by mer? Or was it simply that she was some other type of Khajiit he had never encountered before, with traditions different from those he was used to seeing? The possibilities were too numerous to spend any longer contemplating. He would have to learn more by speaking to her. At the very least, she was in a more defensible position, and she did not seem to have the same bizarre aura about her that the others did.

Fayrl smiled at Nanette and politely rose. “Excuse me a moment, I need to speak with my friend.” Nanette waved him away distractedly, apparently listening to some sound Fayrl could not hear.

Fayrl shook his head and approached the Khajiit cautiously. He gave her a polite nod of greeting. “Hello. Might I sit with you?”

“Certainly!” she chirped in a pleasant, but heavily accented voice. “This one is named Ma'zurah.” She flashed him a cheerful grin, and removed her feet from the table to pull out a chair for him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the seat beside her. “I’m Fayrl.”

He leaned closer to her, his voice hardly above a whisper. “What is this place? You don’t seem like the others here. They are… off.”

The Khajiit gave Fayrl a sharp look and leaned back in her chair, studying him. “You do not know? This is the Fringe of the Shivering Isles. How did Fayrl come to be here?”

Fayrl stiffened in his seat. He had heard rumors of this place and knowing where he was only made him more uncomfortable.

“I was in Stonefalls, I had just broken camp when I saw… this piece of cutlery.” He fished the fork out of his satchel and held it lightly out before him.

Clearly it had something to do with his predicament, but he had no idea of how it might have caused it. Not that he was well versed in the inner-workings of most magical items. He had watched his brother Avon enchant items, but that was not the same as understanding the mechanics behind it.

The Khajiit did a double take upon seeing the fork, and then rested her forehead in one hand. “Oh sweet Mother Mara, Ma'zurah thought she had returned that to Big Head… She has no idea how it could have ended up in Stonefalls…”

“I am willing to let you have it if you can help me to return back to Nirn. I have little else of value on me right now, but my guar has many treasures in the saddle bags with which I can easily pay you for guiding me back,” pleaded Fayrl, looking earnestly into her eyes.

Of course, that was an exaggeration. But he was willing to do whatever it took to get himself out of this particular pocket of Oblivion

The Khajiit’s whiskers twitched. “Ma'zurah might consider it. Then again, she might consider it anyway. Ma'zurah can get you to Tel Fyr, but the method requires Ma'zurah to trust Fayrl first.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why should Ma'zurah trust Fayrl?”

Just then Shelden the Mayor sauntered over. “I see you’ve met our esteemed visitor! I personally showed her around the Fringe when she first arrived!” The Khajiit gave Fayrl a wry nod, confirming that she had, in fact, had this dubious honor. Shelden plunked down a bottle of an unlabeled brew in front of Fayrl, and proceeded to drink from a bottle of his own.

“Yes, thank you, Mayor,” Fayrl told him. “And thank you for the drink. I actually came here to meet my friend, Ma'zurah. She has told me of your lovely town. I was just thanking her for her recommendation.”

Fayrl turned away from the Mayor as though to take a sip of his drink, though he did not let any of the liquid touch his lips. Instead, he smeared a bit of his lipstick onto his hand and let a drop of the liquid fall onto it. If the smear changed from blue to purple, it was poisoned.

He set the bottle back onto the table and slid a hand under it to find the Khajiit’s hand. He drew with his finger upon her palm the question, “Is it safe to eat and drink here?” She clearly knew far more than he did about this place.

Ma'zurah raised her eyebrow at the unexpected touch, and nearly pulled away, but stopped and allowed Fayrl to finish his question. “Shelden, if you would not mind…”

“Oh! Certainly!” Shelden looked startled, but regained his composure quickly. “I’ll just be out of your way then!” He flashed them a huge grin, and escorted Nanette out of the tavern. The Altmer barkeep hung listlessly behind the bar, not even looking at them.

“Alright.” Ma'zurah turned to Fayrl, her manner businesslike. “That’s probably safe to drink, since they drink it too. Ma'zurah will take a sip if you do not believe her.”

Fayrl glanced down at the smudge on his hand. It hadn’t changed color. But he had nothing to test against magical effects right now; all that stuff was back at his camp in Stonefalls.

"Thank you,” Fayrl said, relieved. He eyed the bottle.

He still didn’t trust it. It would be rude to ask her to drink when he was already asking so much from her. And even if she did show no ill effects, there was always the chance she was immune to whatever it was. Or perhaps she was the reason behind everyone’s strange behavior, they were being deferential towards her, after all.

No no, he couldn’t be paranoid forever, even here, and she seemed like the best chance he had of escape. “I would certainly breathe a little easier if you had the first sip,” he admitted with a small, self deprecating smile. He didn’t want to give a bad impression so soon.

The Khajiit laughed and grabbed the bottle. “Whatever you like, sera.” She took a drink and handed the bottle back. Fayrl took it and eyed her for signs of poison. The drink was very tempting. After the day he’d been having, he could use a good, stiff drink.

“Now,” the Khajiit continued, “you obviously do not belong here. Ma'zurah wonders why…” Fayrl laughed softly to himself. She wasn’t wrong. He took a deep breath and took a long drink from the bottle. It wasn’t a great beverage, but the alcohol burned on its way down his throat, and that was enough to calm his anxiety a bit.

He looked up, and caught the Khajiit looking at him. Her eyes glowed briefly and he held his breath, waiting to see if she was casting a spell on him. He let his fingers lightly brush the hilt of his blades.

“Ah. Mafala.” The Khajiit appeared perplexed. “Well that is not precisely helpful, and it is certainly nothing to connect Fayrl to Sheggorath…”

Hearing the name of his patron god did not help to relax Fayrl. Worship of the True Tribunal was still technically illegal. “I don’t like to meddle with the House of Troubles,” he told her testily. “I can get myself into enough trouble without their help.”

The Khajiit gave an easy laugh and offered him a seated bow. “Ma'zurah understands. This one does not trouble the House of Troubles either if she can help it. But Fayrl can relax. Ma'zurah is sworn to Azurah, if the name was not clear.”

Fayrl gave a relieved smile, suddenly drawing the connection between Ma’zurah’s name and the goddess. “My mother and brother are sworn the same,” he told her. “It is nice to meet someone else enlightened, though I do wish it were under slightly better circumstances, of course. Please forgive me for my hesitation thus far. It was rather a shock to go from finishing my day’s work to being thrown into another plane of existence. Please forgive me if I’ve offered any offence. Such a beautiful lady as yourself should hardly have to put up with such behavior.” He gave a seated approximation of a Dunmeri formal bow.

Ma'zurah snorted and waved a hand in Fayrl’s direction. “Hardly. Ma'zurah has had to put up with too much simpering behavior recently.”

“In that case, it is my pleasure to be of service.” Fayrl paused in thought. “I am not sure what I can do to earn your trust in so short a time, but I will do my best to assure you that I will do you no harm, nor will I try to take advantage of one so kind as to help me. Besides, I should not wish to suffer Azura’s wrath for doing anything harmful to one of her precious children.”

Ma’zurah smiled. “Very well. Ma'zurah has a ring that should return the wearer to Tel Fyr. It is a valuable ring to Ma'zurah, and she hesitates to part with it, even for a moment. How would Fayrl suggest we solve this conundrum?”

“Is there no other way? Can I not return to where I left?” He couldn’t say he felt great about ending up so far from where he had been. His poor guar would probably be panicking as it was. Hopefully it wouldn’t get attacked or stolen before he could make his way back there.

He was also not pleased at the prospect of being sent somewhere else without the company of the one sending him. He had no idea what to expect. And he didn’t expect that he, an Indoril, would get the most favorable reaction upon suddenly appearing in a Telvanni tower.

“Ma'zurah knows of no other way unless Fayrl has a recall spell close to the point of entry. Ma'zurah’s closest recall is set to Balmora, which is hardly close to Tel Fyr either.”

“I must admit,” said Fayrl reluctantly, “despite my heritage, I am disappointingly lacking in magical abilities.”

He tried to think of anything he could do that might be of use to their current predicament.

“Could we not travel together somehow? There must be a way.”

“Of course. If Fayrl wishes to take the gamble, Ma'zurah should be able to transport him with the ring. She has never tried it before. Fayrl will have to hold tight.”

Fayrl flashed her a wicked grin. “What’s life without a risk or two? Everything in our dangerous world is a gamble, if you think about it, wouldn’t you say?”

He let his eyes go to her hands then her waist. “Where exactly shall I be holding on tightly? I don’t want to make my generous host uncomfortable.”

She grinned back, flashing sharp teeth. “Ma'zurah expects a Dunmer such as yourself would hardly be the type to make this one uncomfortable. Come.” She stood, grabbed up a pack behind her chair, and held out an arm to him.

Fayrl laughed. “Twas mostly a joke,” he replied. He took the offered arm in his own, firmly, but not so much as to hurt her. “Is there anything else I should do or be prepared for?”

“Probably not.” Ma'zurah wrapped her arm around Fayrl’s waist and fished a thick chain from under her collar. The chain held several rings and amulets. She slipped her finger through one of the rings, and the world became a whirling abyss.

End Notes:

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

This story already has forty chapters and almost 200k words written that just need to be edited as of this first chapter’s posting. It’s not going to stop updating anytime soon, and roleplay is still ongoing. It will be long. You’ve been warned.

The Ring of Tel Fyr is taken from an amazing Morrowind mod that allows the player to visit every single realm of Oblivion. You can find it here.

For the sake of clarity, it should be specified that Fayrl is not a vestige in this story. He gets teleported away just before the events of Elder Scrolls Online begin. You can read his ongoing travel journal (from an alternate timeline in which he does not get lost in time) at @talldarkandroguesome. Send him asks. He loves it.

Lore and characterization for Ma'zurah significantly inspired by the White Senches race mod.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.

#TES #Elder Scrolls Lore #shivering isles #ESO #Morrowind #My Writing #fanfic #Lost in Time TES Fanfic #Fayrl Indoril #Ma'zurah the Khajiit #Oblivion #Rated G

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leecherish · 7 years

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got tagged

tagged by @frolikin, thank you so much o/ Rules: Answer all questions, add one question of your own and tag as many people as there are questions (no) 1. Coke or Pepsi: i don’t have a preference tbh? 2. Disney or Dreamworks: no preference again 3. Coffee or Tea: i like both but tea i guess 4. Books or Movies: books 5. Windows or Mac: windows 6. DC or Marvel: not into them 7. Xbox or Playstation: pc but if i had to choose then playstation 8. Dragon Age or Mass Effect: dragon age i guess i’ve seen some good gay ships 9. Night Owl or Early Rise: both and it destroys me lol 10. Cards or Chess: i hate both 11. Chocolate or Vanilla: both 12. Vans or Converse: no 13. Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash or Adaar: ok 14. Fluff or Angst: angst fight me 15. Beach or Forest: forest forest forest aaa 16. Dogs or Cats?: dogs 17. Clear Skies or Rain: rain 18. Cooking or Eating Out: that sounds gay 19. Spicy Food or Mild Food: bring on all the spices im ready to burn 20. Halloween/Samhain or Solstice/Yule/Christmas: i fucking hate both of them 21. Would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: a little too cold wich i always am 22. If you could have a superpower, what would it be: invisibility bc i wanna dissapear and do stuff w/o ppl judging me 23. Animation or Live Action: animation 24. Paragon or Renegade: ok 25. Baths or Showers: i love baths but we don’t have a bathtub in our flat 26. Team Cap or Team Iron Man? no 27. Fantasy or Sci-Fi: fantasy 28. Do you have three or four favourite quotes?: uuu hold on does music lyrics count bc i wanna quote music lyrics “You’re only young once, but you can’t be immature forever” “And her lips are like the galaxy’s edge, and her kiss the color of a constellation falling into place” “I’d say I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t mean shit” “Tell me now, about what I left unsaid; where did those words I swallowed go?” 29. YouTube or Netflix: netflix looks better but also money so no 30. Harry Potter or Percy Jackson: Harry Potter *throws sparkles everywhere* 31. When You Feel Accomplished: when my writing makes people feel stuff 32. Star Wars or Star Trek: no 33. Paperback Books or Hardback Books: paperback because they feel better to hold 34. Handwriting or Typing: typing! 35. Velvet or Satin: velvet 36. Video Games or Movies: video games 37. Would you rather be the dragon or own the dragon?: own the dragon 38. Sunrise or sunset: sunset 39. What’s your favourite song?: currently Glass Animals - Pork Soda lmao but it changes weeky i guess 40. Horror Movies yes or no: no 41. Long hair or short hair: i prefer long hair on others but i like having short hair 42. Opera or Theatre: theatre! 43: Assuming the multiverse theory is true and every story ever told has really happened somewhere, which one of the movie/book/tv show/game/etc worlds would you pick to travel to first?: *bangs fists on the table* The Elder Scrolls series!! The Elder Scrolls series!! The Elder Scrolls sERIES 44: Are you scared of thunderstorms? Why?: sudden thunders can scare me but mostly i’m just fascinated and i also have a good memory connecting me to them so i love them 45: Sleeping in or getting up early?: i do bo t h my sleeping schedule is fucked up 46: Favorite Food?: mmmmhmhmhmhm anything spicy 47: Traditional or Digital art?: mm both 48: What do YOU think is your most redeemable quality?: i do my best to help my friends 48: If you could meet any celebrity, who would you meet?: sp4zie aah i wanna tell him mow much he cheered me up w/ his videos and.... yea i just love him 49. Favorite band?: currently goreshit lol ok he’s a musician but... do i care? no 50. Favorite pet?: mmm i love them all 51. Truth or Dare?: who plays that anymore anyway lol 52. Sticky notes or journal: journal 53. Do you keep a diary?: I used to but lately i’ve been keeping an online diary i guess

I tag @hikarifulz, @duneyr, @d007ization, @haku-buntaicho, @dreamingofketchup and basically anyone who wants to do it o/

#about me

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vrheadsets · 6 years

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Something For The Festive Weekend: Steam & PlayStation VR Discounts

And so it came to be that the last edition of Something for the Weekend before Christmas falls appropriately enough on Christmas Eve. So if you’re still unsure as to what to get yourself, are looking to get something new for the family to enjoy as they try out virtual reality (VR) over the holidays or you’ve suddenly realised that you’ve forgotten someone and you need to get them a present sharpish a purchase on Steam might just be the ideal present buying get out of jail free (Christmas) card.

Also, before we look at some of the VR titles available a reminder that you can set the date for when people receive your gift as well so it doesn’t have to show up immediately. Look in to the options when you purchase.

Anime Girls VR

Compatibility: HTC Vive & Oculus Rift

There’s not exactly any way to sugar coat this one. Yes, Anime Girls VR is a videogame. Yes, it features anime girls. Yes, the content is… exactly what you think a game called Anime Girls VR would end up being about. It possesses the nudity tag on the Steam listing. Say no more, eh? Get to know middle school teacher Yoko, maid Mizuka and sport loving Kaori all of which love to dance. According to the publishers you’ll need to go some to keep up with them.

If you’d like to take a waifu home this Christmas, Anime Girls VR is currently at 20% off until December 30th 2017, and you can get it now at £7.43 (GBP) as opposed the usual £9.29.

TrainerVR

Compatibility: HTC Vive and Oculus Rift

The first thing to say about this one is that no, despite the name this is nothing to do with physical fitness.

When I was very young the toy I wanted most of all was a BRIO train set. If you’re not familiar with the name BRIO are the makers of the wooden train set with the grooves in the wooden track pieces (sort of an inverted track). Nowadays there are all kinds of knockoffs of it around the place but BRIO are the originals. TrainerVR give you your own virtual train set in that BRIO-style. Not only that but the whole thing is physics based, so if you want to create a steep incline your train will struggle. Also if you lose your temper the entire thing can be flung to the four winds.

An Early Access title from developers sumalab, until December 30th 2017, TrainerVR is available at a30% discount. Bringing the total to £7.97 (GBP) from £11.39.

Little Einar

Compatibility: HTC Vive

Released onto Early Access only yesterday by developers MADBones Games, Little Einar is currently available for £8.09 (GBP) from £8.99 and will in the future be coming to Oculus Rift also.

“This release comes with seven levels with the last three of the chapter to fast follow. The intention is to incorporate feedback into the last few levels and go through an optimization pass before moving into chapter 2, chapter 3 and eventually full release.” Explain MADBones Games. “While developing Little Einar, we wanted to rekindle the old school feeling of retro video games without creating a retro game. The classic experience of a side-scrolling platformer is revitalized in VR. We hope you enjoy it and we look forward to your feedback to make Little Einar better.”

Light Strike Array

Compatibility: HTC Vive

Our last Early Access title for a while, Light Strike Array is a room-scale action strategy videogame by developers Unwieldly Systems.

In Light Strike Array two teams (Bands) battle over a mysterious resource called “salt” – we’re pretty sure it isn’t actually just salt – you’ll need to mine it and gather your strength up if you’re going to take on your opponents. The end of the game is to take your crystalline ‘Shards’ and destroy the enemy’s Heart. You’ll need to first wear down the protective shield that surrounds it, however, and the shield referred to as a ‘cornoa’ is more than capable of obliterating the light that makes up your crystal soldiers.

You can get Light Strike Array at 12% off on Steam until December 29th 2017. With a price of £16.71 (GBP) from £18.99.

Nevrosa: Escape

Compatibility: HTC Vive and Oculus Rift

What would Christmas be like without a little blood and gore, eh? Um… well, actually just peachy, thanks. But GexagonVR’s puzzler Nevrosa: Escape isn’t exactly about bringing cheer to the world.

GexagonVR describe it as “an escape room game with horror and action elements, where you are trying to find your way out of laboratory through solving puzzles while being locked with a strange creature. Mystical machines, old family curse and various endings depending on your ways of play.”

Nevrosa: Escape is available at a rather generous 40% off – £8.99 (GBP) from £14.99 – until December 29th.

Tactera

Compatibility: HTC Vive and Windows Mixed Reality

If there’s one developer we have remained consistently impressed by on VRFocus it would be E McNeill. Other VR titles Darknet and Skylight have both performed well in reviews with the latter already featuring once on the site this week as part of our Best Gear VR Titles Of 2017 list.

In our Gear VR review of Tactera from last year we explained how the videogame felt like to play: “Tactera actually plays out in two phases: grand battle strategy and real-time combat. The player is first greeted by a grid-based map which plots their advance on enemy territory, taking it in turns to deploy troops and move across the map until combat is initiated. Once enemy units meet yours, the player may choose one of the combat instances (if more than one occurs simultaneously) to play in direct command of, whilst others will be simulated. While still learning the ropes this may seem like an unfair advantage on behalf of the AI enemy, however once some knowledge has been attained planning and forethought will avoid any unnecessary weakness in your strategy.”

Presently available at £7.51 (GBP) from £11.39, Tactera is currently discounted on Steam by 34% until December 29th 2017.

Boxed In

Compatibility: HTC Vive and Oculus Rift

Developed for VR, but playable out of it if you like, in Red Chain Games’ Boxed In you need to clear the various rooms of multicoloured blocks which can appear from above, the left or the right. There’s 36 variations of play and it’s a good title for those of you looking for a casual gameplay experience this Christmas.

Boxed In is available on Steam for £3.83 (GBP), a 20% discount.

Quantized

Compatibility: HTC Vive and Oculus Rift

“Quantized is an audio reactive, procedurally-generated sensory experience. Play your own local songs to generate a fun, exhilarating musical journey.”

A videogame by developers Chris Mahoney and Kenny Bier and published by Abstractron, Quantized has a 15% discount on its regular price of £10.29 until December 28th. Meaning you can pick it up for only £8.74.

And finally, whilst it is a Steam week here on Something For The Weekend, here’s a bonus couple of entries for our PlayStation VR owning readers.

Virry VR: Feel the Wild

Bafta award nominated experience Virry VR: Feel The Wild is currently on promotion on the US PlayStation Store for $3.99 or $1.99 for PS Plus users – a 60% and 80% saving respectively on the regular price.

Filmed on location in 4K, get up close with lions, elephant and a zebra, you can even wallow in a mud bath with a rhino. That or take in some of the more tranquil sights as you take a virtual safari down an African river.

The discount is part of a PS Store Flash Sale. Whilst there’s not many PSVR titles in there is another PlayStation VR entry which will definitely be of interest to people…

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim VR

What can we say about this title that we haven’t already at this point? We gave The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim VR a five star review.

“PlayStation Move arguably increases immersion in the world of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim VR ten-fold. The realism of interaction and combat is a huge part of VR, and this is no different here; reaching out to grab an item, swing your sword, draw an arrow to your bow, or cast your spells. It all simply makes much more sense when it’s your hands doing the work.”

It might be an older title given a fresh lick of paint but it remains one of the most in demand PlayStation VR titles this holiday season.

Up until January 2nd 2018 you can journey back to Tamriel for 33% off. Based on the US store, with the price at $40.19 (USD) from $59.99.

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from VRFocus http://ift.tt/2D6Mm67

#VRFocus #vr #virtual reality #canada

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